Chapter 1: Don't call me that.

Day 422.

Rose,

I'm angry; which is to be expected but it's because they said time would ease the pain but it hasn't and I don't know if I'm mad that they lied to me or because it's still painful, probably both. It's August 30th, the day before school starts, I have to do senior year without you-it's not your fault-but I feel like it's mine. I brought that point up to mom and she burst out crying; dad assured me I had no hand in it and to leave because he had to calm her down.

I try not to hate him lately but it's hard, his job has brought us to Chicago now. You know how we've always thought dad's job was stupid and selfish because all it did was drag us to different states and towns? I don't know anymore-I like moving, especially when word gets around that we're one of the seven families. I don't like this pity; I've never had real pity coated eyes stare at me before, they're all clouded with this innocent ignorance; they don't know anything about pity.

Things have turned real bad since you left, it's like your absence consumed us and they're only together for my sake. Every day at dinner all you can hear is the shrill sound of the cutlery clashing against the plates, I can get up from the table and leave while their still eating and they don't mind anymore, I find myself doing reckless things so they'll yell at me.

But mom and dad wont, no matter how many plates I smash, tests I fail, or when I cut all my hair off (not all of it, but the pixie cut happened the week after Christmas last year). My hair's grown out now but you don't care, yours probably has too.

I have to go because I can hear them fighting again and it's distracting, I don't know when I can write again, this year should be hectic but I won't give up, because if the roles were reversed, you would never stop, not that I want to anyway.

I love you,

Bella.

Day 422.

Rose,

Help me! I'm sorry; I suppose it's a bit inappropriate to ask you to help me. But I'm going to say it anyway since you are my go-to ranting buddy. Okay, so after I wrote to you earlier mom peaked her head in my door, her eyes red and puffy. You remember the think caramel hair she used to have; we used to be so jealous. But her nice hair's gone. No longer long and wavy but cut short into a bob; it's not bad but it's not mom. She can't take care of herself anymore, let alone her hair. Her eyes just seem lifeless now, they've lost their spark and seem to be sinking into her face and her cheeks are hollow, making all the bones in her face pop out. For seventeen years she was this family's rock, and when the rock crumbles, so does everything it supports, I'm not too sure that this is even a family anymore; it's three people who reluctantly have to live together, for at least another year.

I keep telling them both to call me Isabella. Bella just reminds me of you now but they don't remember my wishes. Dad's better then mom and the other day I asked her to call me Isabella, but her eyes went vacant; she was never really here anymore-and she replied, ''Right, sorry Bella.''

It is a lost cause though I'm never going to stop asking her to not call me it, the names reserved for you. I'm not sure why I'm talking to you like you're here, I know we wish you were but I know you're not.

Dinner is always quiet now, no more parents bickering about moving and our grades. No more of our eye rolls and content gestures. There's the silence of me starting school tomorrow and the silence of your empty chair at the table. Mom still set's the table for four and I tell her she shouldn't but her eyes water up and dad throws me a look.

Dad's eyes have turned grey like they do in the winter-only it's a year-round thing now. It's clear to anyone who has a brain to see how much they're hurting and in the risk of acting vein I ask, do they even realize how much it affected me? I know the lone reason they are still married is for my sake-the walls are not exactly what you would call soundproof-but they can't even look me in the eye. I get that I look like you; I mean the perks of being a twin in this situation right now, huh? We're not identical but you know how similar we are.

I suppose I can't blame them; our reflection haunts me too.

I love you,

Bella.

Day 423.

Rose,

It's the class before break and a girl called Lauren said I could sit with her so I'm not too worried about lunch. Everything reminds me of you, mostly it's the empty space and it's where you should be that drives me crazy. The vacant seat at the desk beside me, the other half of my room- that should be covered in clothes as you dig through them, nearly crying trying to find something to wear. It even hurts to style my hair; I had grown so used to you and your hopeful hairdressing hands.

You'd go mental if you saw my hair now; I left it wet last night and just put it into a quick messy side plat since half of it falls down anyway and now it's just frizzy and horrible.

Last night my stomach was doing flips and I was so nervous I felt physically sick; I sunk into bed and went into my own little world. I shut my mind off, listened to music and for a few magical moments I forgot the world around me. When I drifted to sleep I kept my mouth clamped shut, not only to bite back the nausea but to keep the screams that wanted to escape in. Just before I fell into an uneasy rest I came to the conclusion that ultimately I hated the world and everyone in it.

But I Love You,

Bella.

Day 424.

Rose,

I haven't written since yesterday in class; I know you can't tell but anyway. I have much to tell you-insert me bouncing around the place while I tap the tips of my fingers off one another. Alright. So I'll start with yesterday morning-first day of senior year.

I was nervous-sickly so. When I woke up I was blinded by the white clouds holding the light rain. Once I actually dragged my ass out of bed I felt uneasy until I had my headphones in; then an odd sense of comfort encased me, music was my escape. You would hardly ever see me without headphones now. Like me and music mom found baking, it's her escape from the real world; she spends hours on end cooking and when she is finished she will always have made something wonderful but most of the time my appetite betrays me, I can barely keep anything down anymore.

If you were here to see me like this you'd murder me with your bare hands. I've finally reached my weight loss target-and then some. You would both feel guilty for being the cause of my pain and kick me into shape because I'm being an idiot. Food just doesn't stay down-when I can get it down. I'm not saying it's because I don't know if you're breathing or you're eating but it makes me guilty.

Enough of the heavy. My life seems to be nothing but heavy-heavy noise and heavy silence. Heavy pauses and murmurs. The crushing weight of you.

The worst thing happened just before I left for school; I was almost out the door when mom asked me if you were there. Rose, she asked for you and I didn't know what to do, I just said that it was me, Isabella. And I swear she had this look in her eyes, like she didn't even understand. Maybe she didn't, maybe we're all just lost and in this world where nothing makes sense and no one understands.

But I don't understand, I don't know why you left us.

I miss you,

Bella.

Day 424.

Rose,

You aren't reading these letters-I know that. I'm irrational, I know, but I've been holding off on telling you something.

My hair's brown now, it's odd when people see my blond roots and question-but my roots are you, they're not even me anymore. I know you'd kill me-I wish you were here to kill me. I'm not changing it until your hair can be ours again, I swear to it. I wish I could tell you something you'd want to hear, other then the reality of my life where I do homework and shower and think of you.

Today is day 424 (or September 1st to those who don't count) or actually day 425, the 2nd, since it's past midnight. I woke up to screaming in my ear-the song on my playlist changed. I can't sleep, though this is nothing new. I'm not calling on insomnia, just stress, and pain, and tears. The 18th is approaching fast-faster then I'd like, I turned seventeen without you and I don't want to turn eighteen alone either.

I feel crazy, my eyes burn and ache, I'm writing this with the light on my phone and crying endlessly, silently. My hair's still damp from my shower-and, or tears-and I just feel stupid.

I always feel stupid, so it's nothing new.

I'm sorry for the creases, the bumps from the places where my tears will dry, I'm tired and my head's pounding, I need to sleep...but I just need you, then I'll sleep, for

.

.

.

.

Rose, I'm just skipping a few lines because I fell asleep on you there last night-but I have things to tell you. Many things.

Mom. She's first, this morning was awful. I can't-I don't want to remember the look on her face, such disbelief, bewilderment.

Mom's concerned voice reached my ears from the kitchen before I did. ''Bella, is that you honey?'' Deep down I know she cares, even if she only shows it when I'm going somewhere, they're cautious now, as you can imagine.

''Yes, I'm going now, I'll see you later.'' I called to her, about to leave, to escape into the real world; but I wasn't fast enough, Rose nothing's fast enough now, nothing's right.

''Please be safe, okay? You don't know who could be out there.'' She says it like a warning-not like because of you, but because of the world. She said it more to herself then to me. I peeked my head through the door to the kitchen. She was in the middle of icing some cupcakes, staring vacantly into the rhythm of her hand swirling.

''Mom, trust me would you? Please, I promise you I'll be alright.'' I tried to re-assure her, I look at some food, but decide against it.

''You don't know that.'' Always the supportive one. She was looking down, never looking up, and just confirming my suspicions on how she can't stand to look at me, even with my brown hair I'm you, I'm you to everyone.

I clear my throat and turn from looking at the woman who won't look at me. ''I'll see you later.'' I decided to walk, to just go when I don't get a reply-but then she mutters something and I freeze, I couldn't move for a minute until I forced myself to go, her muttered words staying on my shoulders and ringing throughout my head even through the music and rain on the walk to school.

''Don't make promises you can't keep Rose.''

I thought about it all day-my head spaced, at one point I randomly blurt out. ''Please don't call me that.'' and the next part-god Rose there's this guy and his sister-

Crap, last class is almost over-I'll tell you when I'm home.

Love you,

Bella.

Thank you for reading! Should I continue, please tell me that you think, thank you! ;)xxx

-BATTM