A/N : Sorry I haven't been keeping up with any of my other fan fics, but please check them out when you finish here—reviewing as well, 'cos that's what keeps me happy . I decided to start a new one, anyways 'cos of the major writers block and the lack of reviews.

Hopefully this will be updated regularly, and I'm sorry for any future errors in geography. I'm from England, so don't really know America. All I know is from Google—which is amazing, by the way.

R&R. :)

Chapter 1-

I stared up at my ceiling, wondering how he could do that to me. He had left, he didn't love me anymore. I knew that, somewhere deep down, no matter what he said that was true. How could he love me? I was an ordinary human. He was perfect, fast, and strong. He had eternal, unchanging youth. He would never be able to love me as much as I did him. I was nothing to him, and I should be considering myself lucky to have been the object of his desires for a few months, instead of no time at all. I shouldn't be lying here, regretting meeting him, and thinking of the way I still needed him. I didn't even trust myself to stand up without him there, not knowing if I would trip and fall over the banister, down the stairs and crashing into the front door to my death, without him to catch me somewhere along the way.

I am lying here thinking of everything he ever was to me, he was my sun during the days, my moon during the nights, my friend during the hard times, and my lover during the good ones. I missed everything about him, the way that he would walk, the way he smelt, and the way half of his mouth would lift crookedly when he smiled my favourite smile.

I am lying here thinking of everything about him, except his name. I can't bring myself to think it; it would take my numbing edge off the huge waves of pain that washed over me almost constantly. If I made him seem real, by knowing his name, I wouldn't be able to stop myself from screaming. I do sometimes, scream that is. Mainly in my sleep, often waking Charlie so he'd want to come running. He soon caught on that he didn't know what I was shouting about, and decided that he couldn't help—not that he could have if he'd known what it was. He would probably think I was madder than I already am, if that's possible. I actually think it's quite strange I haven't been shoved into a straight jacket and shipped to the nearest mental hospital.

I know what people think about me. They think I'm mad. They think I'm delusional. Shouting things about vampires and that someone called Victoria is coming to find me. Mike used to visit often, probably after hearing about the separation of my heart. I like to think of it like that, instead of thinking his name. It does make me feel better. I found out the hard way that when I thought his name it took the numbing edge off the pain, the small numbness that was keeping me sane throughout this whole mess. I knew that no matter how often I thought it, it would still hurt the same amount as the first time I tried, so I stopped.

I'm now able to act as though he never existed, as though he was a nameless, faceless person I once saw through a crowd and had never cared for. Victoria, on the other hand...

She made my skin crawl. She was the one I woke up in the night sweaty, tangled and screaming about. I knew she was coming back for me. I knew she wouldn't rest until she had, or until someone had taken care of her. I knew that would be impossible now, with my only able protectors probably in some far away country by now—as far away from me as possible. This was what I worried about. I was so far away from the normal teenage angst, it could be quite funny.

Normal teenagers would be worrying about exams, homework, class work, boyfriends, backstabbers and all number of meaningless, mind-numbing things. I didn't have to worry about any of that. Not even class work, not where I was. I looked around myself and saw the white walls of PIW. That stood for The Psychiatric Institute of Washington. It was a horrible, ugly place located on Wisconsin Avenue, with huge grey walls and wire circling around the top to make sure no one can break out.

Well, that's the way I'm imagining it because I haven't actually seen it from the outside. I had been sedated at Forks General Hospital and had woken up in this cell. I didn't really see many people from outside here. I would sometimes see Renee, but never Charlie. The workers had told me that he had found it too hard to come in, but had viewed me from a distance after I'd pressed them for an answer.

I heard a sound to my left, and turned in time to see someone locking the door behind them. They started walking towards me. It was a woman I had never seen before in the institute, but I knew I recognised her from somewhere. She had a round, heart shaped face, with her caramel coloured hair in loose curls framing it.

'Bella,' she said softly, as though afraid to anger me. She shouldn't have to be like that, after all, she was nearly my mother. I looked at her nose, her mouth, anywhere but her eyes. I couldn't face seeing the disappointment I knew I would see in them.

'Esme,' I whispered. Not wanting to break the peacefulness of this amazing dream. She wasn't him, but fairly close. Maybe he would visit next...

I shook myself quickly; I had almost slipped then, almost breaking contact with the beautiful numbness.

'Bella, honey, I have some news on Victoria.' I steeled myself, looking into her eyes to see the twinkle I knew I would see if she were lying. All I could see was pity, and anger. Anger at me? I wondered.

'Why are you angry, Esme? I haven't tried to do anything wrong,' I said. The it finally sunk in, Victoria. 'What's going on? Has she killed Charlie? Renee? Esme! Tell me, please.' I had quite literally got on my hands and knees, pulling at the front of her gown to beg her.

'Bella, it's okay. She's not going to be killing anyone for a long, long time. I can promise you that. We disposed of her, Bella. She isn't after you anymore, and it kills me to say this, but we won't be here anymore either. It's too hard for—'

'NO!' I screamed at the top of my voice, trying to block out the name I longed for, and feared most. 'Please, Esme. The numbness will go, and I'll be left in the ocean. And it hurts so, so much. I wish I'd never met any of you!' I screamed the last part, but when I saw the hurt show on her face, I regretted it immediately. I knew I wouldn't say otherwise though, it would hurt too much, way too much. I knew if I admitted anything to this amazing woman, I would fall into my ocean of pain, and I knew eventually I would drown. I would drown and perhaps never resurface. All the pain killers in the world wouldn't be able to numb this sort of pain, and nothing in the world would be able to get rid of it.

I heard another sound, and saw Esme's back proceeding out of the door, away from me. I wanted, with every fibre of my body, to call her back, for her to turn around and promise she'll be back soon. I realised I was suddenly tired, and I jerked my head up slightly. In dreams you don't get tired, I thought to myself, not saying it out loud because they thought I was mad enough. I then had an idea, maybe this isn't a dream? Maybe Esme's as real as I am, as these walls that hold me captive.

A maid came in and laid out a pillow on my bed, I placed my head on top of it and started to dream.