I sat there, not knowing what to do, scared shitless. I don't know why I often feel like that. Like a huge amount of horror is placed on my chest, making it impossible to breath. I keep shivering badly, like the temperature is -170 C instead of 27 C. I want Edward. I need Edward. Badly

Edward and I have been in love since I was fifteen, while he just reached sixteen. We have been best friends before that, since I was 7 and he was 8, but then discovered out love on our first double date. Edward was out with Jessica Stanley and I was out with Mike Newton. The moment I saw them together, I felt a pang of something I didn't know, now known as jealousy. When Edward felt the same way, we realized that we were in love.

Edward and I never passed the "making out" phase. We planned to do "It" on prom night, but Edward told me no, that prom wasn't that special. When I asked him when, he just kissed me gently, and told me when the time comes, we'll know.

After graduation, Edward and I went to different universities. My GPA wasn't as high as his, so I wasn't accepted. We communicated by phone, MSN, et cetra. That, apparently, wasn't enough for either of us. I worked hard to increase my GPA, and the next year, I was able to apply for transferring to his university.

I was late on my second year at Edward's uni for about 2 weeks, and he didn't see me in about 2 and a half months. That was a long time for both of us. So, when I arrived, it was 01:00 am. I put my stuff in my room – unlike my other uni, I didn't have a sharing room. It was private- then went to his "Private" room and knocked. I didn't care that I was past midnight; I needed to see him, badly.

The door opened, and there was Edward. In his sleep hair, wearing only a pair of dark blue boxers, he looked like every bit of Edward I had every two days in one of my wet dreams. As I stood there, gawking at him, wondering how, in two months, he got impossibly hotter, I was rewarded with a passionate kiss. I gasped, as he pulled me in his room, banged the door shut, and my back immediately was stuck to the wall as he savored my mouth, cupped my t-shirted breasts and kept massaging them in the most sensitive place. While he did that, I was busy moaning, my hands fisted in his hair, trying to pull him closer and closer.

He pulled away when I thought I was going to burst if I didn't breathe. Looking at me with his dark, lust filled eyes, "Hi," he said in a husky voice. Before I had a chance to get my shaky reply out, I was swooped from the floor and into his room, where we finally experienced feeling as one.

After we graduated, we got engaged, and after two years, we got married.

The first time I got that feeling of being very scared without an obvious reason was the second week of the first year of uni. It got to me in the middle of English Lit class, and I Quickly bolted out and hurried to my dorm room. I curled in a ball, and cried my eyes out, shivering. My roommate came and tried to get me to tell her what was wrong, but I was kind of hard, since I didn't know in the first place.

My roommate then called my mum and told her what happened. Two hours later, my mum was beside me, hugging and rocking me, trying to comfort me, but to no avail. After a couple of hours, I found Edward standing in front of me, shaking his head and telling me mum that he thought I was gone. I had no idea what they were talking about, but as soon as Edward took me in his arms, I became immediately calm. The feeling of his stubble, hard hands did the work.

An hour later, after my mum made sure I was completely okay; she proceeded to tell me about my "moments". I freaked out, thinking I was mentally ill, but Edward soothed me, telling me to relax and listen. And I did.

My dad used to be my best friend, my hero, my personal role model. I was fifteen when he was shot. We were in our car, going shopping, when two gangster cars sandwiched us and began firing on each other. My dad was the result of their hate.

I saw how the blood poured of him. How his eyes where opened in a pained expression. How I couldn't comfort him. How I couldn't tell him it's okay. How I won't feel the comfort of his hug anymore. How, How and How.

Edward's parents came and got us, my mum at the back seat, while Esme was trying to comfort her. I sat at the front seat, gazing forward, not actually seeing anything, while faintly feeling Carlise's hand on my shoulder, faintly hearing his soothing words, trying to smoother me, make my pain less. I was faintly aware of that, because all my power was somewhere else.

All my power was used by me, trying to convince myself that this didn't happen; this shouldn't happen. My dad shouldn't be dead. My dad isn't dead.

I spent the first two weeks denying the death of my father. Whenever I can't find him in the house, I would just tell myself that he's at the police station. Police men should be busy, shouldn't they?

The funeral came, I snapped out of my haze, finally accepting the truth, which was harder than death itself. Irony much?

We were in the middle of the funeral when I felt my tears declaring their presence. I felt them streaming down, thinking that it was just for show, my dad wasn't really dead, but no one else knew. I only knew, because I was special. It was a secret between me and Daddy.

While I was busy wondering when will I see dad again, living a complete lie, I felt Edward's hand take mine, squeeze them, and rub gently smooth circles on my palm. The feeling of his hand was rough, hard, he reached his puberty, I reasoned with myself, of course it would feel like dad's.

Dad's. With a realization the left my light headed, I looked at the grave just in time. They were burying it. But my dad's in there, said a frantic voice in my head. Dad is dead. Get it, DEAD, cried my rational, larger voice. As I saw the machine putting the grave down, with each inch, my heart squeezed itself, ready to burst into little pieces.

I felt Edward's hand squeezed my hand one more time. It felt too much like my dad's. I giggled, imaging Edward was my dad. My giggle turned into a chuckle, which turned into a laugh, which finally turned a pain filled sob.

My mum told me that I sat in my room 24/7, curled in a ball, crying, begging for dad to come. Begging for anyone that might hear me. Making promises I know I can't keep. Begging for a last glimpse; for my last memory of my dad to be smiling, warm eyed, instead of pained, blooded.

All that ended, when Edward came.

It was 4 am, I was in my room, crying and cured into myself, when I heard my window open. I didn't care who it was, I deeply wished it was some killer who'll take my life, and end all this grief and sorrow. But my hopes were crashed when I heard Edward's familiar voice calling me, his hands touching my shoulder. I cried harder, knowing that I'll have to live with the absence of my dad's hugs, of his warm, hard hands.

"Bella," Edwards voice was pained, like me crying caused him pain. He turned my body towards him and hugged me, rubbing my back, whispering nothings in my ear, promising me, soothing me. My crying subsided, body relaxed against his hard, warm one.

That's when I discovered the Edward wasn't just my best friends. He wasn't just my lover. He was my savior, the reason I live. The reason I endure.

So, that brings me to the present. Me, crying, shivering, needing the feeling of safety.

I heard the door open, and the sound of Edward hanging his keys, and putting his bag aside.

"Bella," he called. I cried harder, shivered faster, and found difficulty breathing.

"Bella," Edward's voice was panicked, "Bella! Baby" he continued calling, and I continued crying harder, and harder, rocking my curled self back and forth, needing him more, and more, but not able to speak.

I heard his footsteps going all around the house, until finally, the doors of our walk-in dark closet burst open. He hurried to me, hugging me hard, whispering my name over and over again, while my hands rubbed his stubble, breathed his sweet scent in, needing to take in all I can get.

He started kissing me hard, and I replied desperately, needing to feel him inside me, needing to feel safe.

He quickly picked me up, and into out room, were I finally felt him inside me. Where I finally felt safe.

Okish.

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