Disclaimer: Twilight and all its characters belong Stephenie Meyer. I just wanted to see how they might deal with real life.

Author's Note: This is the first story that's been able to make its way out of my head onto paper. Please let me know what you think.

Big thanks to Cougar and Celeste for their help, support and unending encouragement! Luv you ladies!

The Prologue takes place in the present. Upcoming chapters will go back in time to build the story and, eventually, we'll end up here again so we can move forward.

Bella will tell this story in her own words but, on occasion, others might feel the need to share and when they do, I'll let you know.


Prologue

"Bella? Bella, you can't let this happen, you've got to do something!" Alice's voice snapped me out of my reverie and immediately my eyes focused on the yellow envelope on the table next to her. How long had it been there? My mind was cloudy and I tried to sort through the fog, desperate to remember how long it had been since my life had ended.

I clearly remembered the doorbell ringing and the handsome man in the brown jacket who had been standing on my front porch. He was young with curly blond hair and bright blue eyes that crinkled at the corners when he smiled. "Isabella Cullen?" he'd asked with a grin. I nodded. And then, with a few harmless words, he had broken my heart. "I have a package for you. Please sign here."

In truth, it wasn't his words that changed everything. It was the fact that my eyes were already glued to the large envelope he was holding and the return address I could clearly read. Of course, I knew what it was. I had been expecting it to arrive. But in true Bella fashion, I had convinced myself that I still had time, that things would somehow work themselves out.

In that moment, I wanted to slam the door in his face, to run back into the house and pretend I hadn't seen it. But I am a practical person and, even as the panic began to overtake me, I realized he was only doing his job. It was not his fault that things had gone so horribly wrong. So I signed on the line with a trembling hand and took the envelope as he handed it to me. Almost immediately, it felt like my fingers were burning and I thought my heart would beat a hole in my chest.

I closed the door quickly, but without slamming it, even then wanting to be polite to this young man who had darkened my day. But as soon as it was closed, I sank to the floor, letting the envelope fall as I pulled my knees tightly to my chest. And I sobbed. Loud, guttural sounds that I didn't think could possibly come from me, escaped my lips and tears flowed so quickly and thickly from my eyes that I couldn't see. My body quaked involuntarily with every sob as I sat there limply. I stayed in that position for an eternity. Time meant nothing and passed slowly. At some point, although I have no recollection of doing so, I must have moved from my position at the front door to my current position on the sofa, where I lay in a tight ball willing all of this to be a bad dream.

I don't recall if I brought the envelope in and put it on the table or whether Alice had done that, my brain was refusing to cooperate in that regard. I do have some vague memories of the phone ringing and hearing the silky voice I loved so much on the answering machine. "You have reached the Cullen residence. We can't take your call at the moment. Please leave us a message and we'll get back to you as soon as possible" the voice promised. And I sobbed harder.

It was Charlie, my dad, who called first. "Bella, how are you? I haven't talked to you in a couple of days. Give me a call." I loved Charlie beyond reason, but I couldn't make myself get up even though the phone was only a few feet away. After that, I remember there were more calls, although I can't say whether they came one right after the other or with large spans of time between them. I recall that one was from Alice – "Hey girl, call me back!" Then Charlie again "Bells, is everything alright? Please call me". Still I could not make myself get up. Things were quiet for a while after that. I realize now that Charlie must have called Alice because somehow she was here. She didn't even bother to call me a second time, she just came over. That was so typically Alice!

Obviously she used her key to get in because all of a sudden there she was, standing by the table, looking down at that awful yellow envelope and trying to talk to me. It brought back a fleeting memory of Alice insisting we give her a key to the house. "I'm always over here anyway, it'll just make all our lives easier" she'd said and, right now, that seemed so long ago.

I struggled to focus, to remember how many times I had seen the sun and how many dark, dreary nights had passed since that blond-haired boy had been at my door. Because I had not slept, I was exhausted and this made everything more confusing. Near as I could tell, it must be Sunday although whether it was morning or afternoon was still a mystery.

I clearly remember that the letter had arrived on Friday morning. It was still unopened.

"Bella?" Alice spoke my name in the form of a question. She was in front of me now, sitting on the coffee table in order to be at my level as I lay on the sofa. "Bella" she tried again and stroked my hair. And, with that touch, a fresh torrent of tears began. She held me close, hugging me to her even harder as the sobs became uncontrollable. Little Alice, so small and frail looking, the best sister-in-law and greatest friend I had ever had, held me tight enough to calm my tremors and, eventually, my tears dried up once again.

"Look at me, Bella" she said as she put her hands on either side of my face, trying to get me to focus on her. She glared intently at me but the fog clouded my eyes and the unbearable sadness had stolen my words. I could not respond because I knew that if I tried to speak to her the horrible screams that were bottled up in my chest would escape. And I could not do that to Alice. Instead I looked at her with my swollen eyes and tear streaked cheeks and tried to communicate silently to tell her that all was lost, my dreams were over, and my life was not worth living.

I had ruined everything.

My eyes searched her face – how could she still love me, how could she comfort me when she knew what I had done? I was not worthy of her love, I knew it and I didn't understand why she didn't know that. I grasped her hand tightly; willing her to realize that she should leave me all alone because, after all, it's what I deserved. I think the intensity of my stare shocked her. She removed her hand from mine and with a quick, worried look, grabbed her phone from her purse. She was obviously scared by what she saw.

I heard her call Carlisle, mumbling into the phone and asking him to please be quick. Dear, sweet Carlisle, like a second father to me. Another person I had hurt. He must have asked someone to cover for him at the hospital because shortly after Alice called him, the doorbell rang. I heard low murmurs in the hallway; it seemed as if they were miles away. I looked up to see Carlisle walking towards me. His face was grave at first but when he looked into my eyes, he tried to smile. He obviously didn't want to upset me any further, probably worried about my mental state. But even in my condition, I could see that his smile was pained.

"Bella, honey, have you slept at all? Have you eaten?" he asked with concern. The request seemed simple enough but, truthfully, I couldn't answer because I couldn't remember. I definitely had not slept, I knew that. Had I eaten? I didn't think so. I shook my head slightly, wanting to give him an answer and it was the only one I had. I looked at him pleadingly and then closed my eyes, wishing that he could put me out of my misery. I didn't deserve his help, but I needed it.

I sensed rather than saw him look at Alice. Even knowing they were having an unspoken conversation about me was not cause enough to make me to open my eyes again.

Then I heard Carlisle open his medical bag and like a rag doll, I let him take my pulse and my blood pressure, feel my forehead and look into my eyes. With a heavy sigh he said "I'm going to give you something to help you sleep for a while Bella. You need some rest. It will help you feel better." I shook my head violently from side to side and tears sprang to my eyes because I knew I would never feel better again, I was absolutely sure of it. "I know, I know" he murmured as he hugged me close to his chest.

He held me with one arm while he searched through his bag with the other and spoke to Alice, "Alice, can you please help Bella get ready for bed and give her two of these?" Then he turned to me, "Bella, these will help you sleep. I have to go back to the hospital but I'll come back to check on you later." He placed his hand gently on my cheek and kissed my forehead.

I felt Alice tugging at my hand, urging me to get up. I had no fight left in me, so I simply got up, walked around Carlisle and followed her into my bedroom. She helped me change, gave me the pills that Carlisle had prescribed and watched as I took them. Then she closed the drapes – what time was it anyway? - tucked me into bed and left the room. I could hear them speaking in low, urgent tones just beyond my door. Obviously they were worried, but I could not bring myself to care at the moment, I just prayed that sleep would come and help me forget everything.

Even with the pills I'd taken, my sleep was unsettled. I dreamed of the things that had happened and the images made me cry out. Several times I was aware of Alice sneaking into the room to comfort me and tuck me back in. She hadn't left, and in a small corner of my mind I was reminded of how very much I loved her.

When I awoke, the sun was shining. Was it Monday morning already? The medication had left me a bit groggy and for a second it was as if life had not changed. I looked around the room that Esme, my mother-in-law, had helped me decorate and smiled at the beauty of it all, the antique French furniture, the silk drapes, the luxurious bedding. In some ways I had always felt this room was perhaps a bit too feminine, the colours too soft, but Edward had never protested, insisting that if I was happy so was he.

Edward.

As his name crossed my mind, the events the past few days and months came tumbling back. I sat up in bed with a jolt, my breathing was laboured, my hands shook and a slight sheen of sweat appeared on my forehead.

What on earth had I done to my perfect life?