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Disclaimer: I do not, nor will I ever own Twilight :/ This story is rated M for themes such as cutting.

We can't all be hero's, we can't all save the world. We can be one thing- who we are, and sometimes that's a blessing but most often to not, it isn't.

Many times, I felt as though my feet was stuck on the earth, that I was nothing but an empty, soulless ghost. My body, my mind, every fibre of my being was trying to fight the darkness, the infinite cold that washed through my body. But it was fruitless.

In 1947, there was a misinterpretation made against scorpions- that, when faced with a smouldering ring of fire, they will frantically begin to sting itself, aching to end their own life, but they were wrong- it was their final fight to stay alive, trying to strike something that is and never will be there.

Is this what I've come down to? The darkness, the final round of my life, have those shadows finally started chasing me, attempting to bring me down by the ankles and drag me into the depths of hell where no one, not one soul would be able to hear my screams of pain or my cries of insanity? Was William Shakespeare right? Was hell really empty, are those devils living amongst us as human being's? As the thief that roams through the night, as the murderer that looms in the shadows or the fear that lives inside each and every human bound soul?

I walked through the crowded school hall like I did almost every single day of the week, eyes, stares, glares and looks were always on me, always judging me, taking me for a ride in their cruel, volatile eyes.

"Hey Bella" Angela smiled polite, her eyebrows rose as she took in my appearance, what was the point in dressing up? What was the point in coming to school with my hair in the most complicated braids, or in the way that they thought was perfect? What was the point in wearing a dress, or clothes that made me look flawless or pretty, I wasn't any of those things.

"You feeling okay?" It was always the same question, and I gave her the same answer.

"I'm fine, just tired"

That was how I had grown these past few... 6 months, 24 days and 17 hours since he had left me- soulless, and telling lies to the people that surrounded me. Maybe they were all used to it by now- but used to it or not, I didn't care.

"You always say that, you always say that you're tired."

"Maybe... Maybe it's because I always am." There wasn't much of a lie to that statement- I was always tired, lethargy took its toll as it ran through my body, leaving my helpless as I lay awake almost every night, tears streaming down my face like tiny rivulets in the spring. An ache laced my chest, squeezed it, tore at it when my brain decided to go over memories with Edward Cullen, all the times I would lie in his arms, not a care in the world, every time my lips touched his with a heated passion, every caress I felt upon my pale skin... it was all gone, and I had to live with that. I had to live with knowing that I wasn't good enough to him, I had to live with knowing that all I am is a fragile, ugly, not good enough human being. I wasn't good enough, everybody in this school knew it.

I could see it in their eyes, I could see it every time they stared at me. They didn't have to say it to my face like they did, they didn't have to bring their legs out to trip me when I walked past like I did. They didn't have to tell me to go and kill myself or rip my heart to shreds, because, in reality, I was already was ahead of them. I knew these things. I knew it, I could see it when I peered into the mirror before me, I could feel it when I pressed that knife to my skin.

I'm worthless, I'm cheap... I'm just Edward Cullen's seconds... his sloppy seconds like some of the people who walked through these gloomy hallways liked to say.

"Have you even been eating Bella, you look like you've lost weight?"

"Angela, I'm fine, okay!"

"Bella, I'm just concerned! I see you almost every single day, you look like the dead! You look like you've just entered purgatory or something, you need to snap out of it, he isn't coming back, Bells. He just isn't." Her arm grasped my shoulder lightly, a sad, sombre look gracing the features of her angelic face.

"And I'm sorry that I have to be the bitch to say that, to tell you to move on. But you need to move on, you can't see what I see every day. A beautiful, headstrong girl who's been hurt beyond compare, but a girl who can change the world, a girl who can turn this place of darkness, destruction and wrath into a place of nothing but enchantment, happiness and a utopia of some sorts. You're more than what you see, and if the people in this goddamn room can't see it, then maybe I need to tell you. Bella, it's like god gave you something, and he said to you 'Don't let anybody take it from you'. People, get everything taken off of them unless there's somebody there to help them."

"Angela-"

"You may not think much of yourself right now, but it's true and it's about time you start seeing what I see."

And then she turned around and walked through crowd, not giving me or anybody else another glance.