Full summery:Bella's parents are divorced,and she feels she's too depressed to go on.What happens when an angel comes and saves her?Contains graphic content.(Not that kind graphic.Pervs).BxE.

This is one of the ideas I thought of a long time ago, but never got around to typing. I am not making fun of people who actually are depressed or cut themselves, so please don't think that. This is my first fanfic so please be nice!

Disclaimer:I sadly do not own Twilight.

Chapter One-Savior

I looked at myself in the mirror. I should've seen Bella, Isabella, staring back at me, but it wasn't. It was someone completely different. Someone I didn't recognize.

As much as I tried to convince myself it was a trick mirror, that it wasn't really me in it, that it was special effects, I couldn't. I couldn't look away either. I wasn't me. I wasn't the Isabella Swan I thought I knew. I was someone different, a stranger.

My face looked the same; I still had my chocolate brown eyes, my heart shaped face, my translucent skin. My body hadn't changed much, either. Except my arms. They changed.

I pulled up the sleeves of my long-sleeved shirt, showing the things that no matter how much I tried to conceal, people still noticed, and asked. The cuts, the scars. They looked more ugly then the last time I looked, more brutal. Some were almost healed, some were scabbing over. But I can't hide them. No matter how much I try, I can't.

I first started this 'habit' when I was younger. Seventh grade I think. That's when Charlie and Renee' got divorced. I don't remember that year because of the divorce, even though I should, I remember it as the first time I drew that scissor across my skin. I remember the feeling of relief, the feeling that maybe, just maybe, I could get through this, survive.

People didn't ask; They just ignored the scars as if they were a mosquito. No one cared. No one cared enough to tell me that what I was doing, what I still do, was, and still is, wrong, even though I know it. No one bothered to ask what happened, if I fell down or something, being the klutz I am. I guess that's why: because people already know I'm clumsy, so they probably thought I just fell or something. Or something.

I don't want the attention. Actually, I'd rather the spotlight be off me. But I don't want to be invisible, either. I just want someone to care.

And tomorrow I'm starting school. High school. Forks high. No doubt both a commodity and a curiostity sparker. I don't dress in black or anything, but people will probably notice that I keep to myself, and that I'm a pretty quiet kid. Maybe there'll be a kid, one brave kid, that'll talk to me, no matter what I do, what I do to myself. Yeah, right. There never is. Never.

I walked to my room. No dinner, like usual. I don't cook, and niether does Charlie, so yeah. Nothing to eat. My room is the opposite of me. The walls too bright, the carpet bright, the rocking chair from my baby days still there. It's way too happy.

Everywhere I turn, there's a reminder of the past, the 'old' me. I just want to scream, 'I'm not Bella anymore!' to the whole world. Just scream it at the top of a mountain or something, where it'll echo everywhere.

I wondered idly what my first day would be like, again. The looks, the rumors, all that would be normal. Nothing really bothered me; Not the odd looks, not the rumors, not the lies, nothing. I'm pretty laid back, so I don't care. Yep. That's defienately not normal. My dad called me for dinner, again. He didn't get it. He didn't get that I was practically starving myself, that food and nutrition and a balanced diet aren't my top priority right now.

I knew I wasn't going down; I can't eat anyway, and I really don't want to see my father. Instead I jumped on my bed and closed my eyes, even though I know I'm not going to sleep anytime soon. I daydreamed about what school will be like, even though I'm pretty positive I already know. Even so, it felt better to think of myself as not and outcast, not different.

As I slowly drifted into unconiousness, someone else drifted too. A tall, white figure, with bronze hair and golden eyes, and a beautiful crooked smile on his lips. I've never seen him before.

"Bella..." He called out, in a velvet-soft voice. How did he, an imaginary god, know my name? My eyes were wide open, so he can't be imaginary. Besides, my imagination can't conjure up a creature so perfect, so beutiful. It's impossible.

The beautiful figure stepped towards me. "I've been waiting one hundred and seven years for you to finally come, Bella." He informed me matter-of-factly. How could he say he's been waiting for me for one hundred seven years, when he barely looks a day over my age, seventeen? I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. "Never forget that one person always loves you, and has wanted you for a very long time. Never forget. Never forget." The angel repeated. I responded to this. "No one loves me." My voice was so low, it was barely audible in my ears. Even so, I have a feeling he heard, loud and clear. He smiled crookedly again. "Never forget." He repeated once more, before disapearing in the shadows.

I tried to call out to him, but the words got stuck in my throat.

I awoke with a start. I looked around my room, and saw something stealtly and silently move amongst the shadows. I immediately knew I wasn't alone.

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A.A.