Song Link: http:/www(dot)youtube(dot)com/watch?v=ci2z10xVm1k&feature=related

Song Name: "Potions"

Band Name: Puscifer

Theme: Musical Cues

Story Title: Concrete Bed

Rating: M

Beta: None

Word Count: 7,764

User Name: Corinne 22

Disclaimer: SM owns all Twilight and Maynard owns the ability to have perfect bands such as Tool and this...

***Warning: Contains dark themes and drug use***

Someone sang your name today
and a stranger saw me crumble
Hold my broken heart and shell away
begging "bury me beside you"

The devil popped around today
selling promises and potions
that could take our memory away
help forget I'd ever met you

Tell me... can you please, kindly take away the misery?
Give me a baker's dozen please,
wrap me up to go away

But I want to
I need to
forget you
Don't want to, but I need to let you go

The devil bent my ear today
about his magical elixir
That would make the sorrow go away,
help me forget I'd ever met you

Give me
a baker's dozen please,
wrap me up to go away

I want to
I need to
forget you
Don't want to, but I need to let you go

*Concrete Bed*

CharliePOV

Walking down the bare streets of Forks on a morning just starting to dawn, I was trying to find comfort in the silence and calm. My day was going to be busy, in work and in my head. The day was going to be exhausting, as usual, while I ran from my thoughts. An occasional bird flew off in the sky as my footsteps on the pavement would scare it away. The sun was beginning to make the sky an almost crimson color, laced with a few wispy clouds hovering over the mountains in the distance. I shushed my mind, for the moment that I could manage, and closed my eyes as I breathed in the nearing spring air. I tried to make the new day bring a renovation to myself and just as I was beginning to feel the edge of it, I ran into something hard.

My eyes flew open, immediately declaring apologies as I took in the person I ran into. It was Carlisle Cullen, the doctor that Renee had. He was her psychologist for two years and with him my attempt at clearing my head all came crashing down.

"Hey, Charlie!" he belted out, smacking my shoulder slightly as if we were long lost friends. He wasn't to me. In his name and face he held everything that went wrong with my life. Whether or not it was justified, I blamed this man.

"Oh, hey, Carlisle," I muttered, trying to skirt around him as quickly as I could. Any conversation I could avoid with him would be wonderful.

"I saw Bella the other day."

That stopped my retreat fast. I turned slowly back around to him, cursing him for any thought of anyone in my family. Bella also had a "thing" for his son, Edward. I hated being the strict Dad to hate, but I refused to let Bella have anything to do with Carlisle's family. It may be selfish, but I didn't want to always have a constant reminder. I had enough on my own.

"I was over at the school to pick up my son, since his car broke down, and saw her talking to her friends outside. God, she really has grown up, hasn't she? I can't believe that she's almost eighteen now. Time sure does fly by fast, doesn't it?"

I nodded, unable to speak as he carelessly spoke about time to me. He didn't know. His time was nothing compared to my time. He had a complete family and happiness. He took away mine.

"Can't believe it's been so long since we've spoken to each other. How have you been? Have you started dating anyone, yet? I've heard through Billy that his sister, Sue, has developed a crush on you." He chuckled at the end. Actually chuckled like everything in the past meant nothing and it's something so easy to get over.

"Um, no. No dating," I mumbled. My hands were starting to shake and I was beginning to lose control of my breathing. I couldn't let him see me start to have a panic attack. I quickly tried to think of something to say so I could leave but my brain was becoming too fuzzy to think.

"Well, better get a move on it, Charlie," he chuckled again, making rage join in with panic. "Time's not moving any slower, you know."

I tried to smile at his bad taste of a joke, but all that came out was a cough to try to hide the beginning of tears lumping up in my throat, hurting and making it harder to breathe.

"I'll let you get off to work. Give me a call sometime and we'll go grab a beer at the lodge."

He smacked my shoulder again, almost making me lose my balance. I didn't attempt at a goodbye or being polite. I practically ran away, my feet taking me around the left corner instead of on the way to work. My eyes were becoming too cloudy to see from tears, but I didn't have to think of where I was going. My body and mind knew this way well.

I didn't have to count the number of rows I passed or look at any names, my heart knew when to stop. And, as soon as my heart signaled I was in the right place, my body caved and gave in, collapsing on the hard, etched concrete. Concrete that spelled out words of love and remorse. Of family members left behind to deal with the tremor of lost loved ones. The words couldn't even come close to what I felt inside and couldn't let go of.

Feb. 3rd 2001, 9 years ago, my heart stopped. Sure, a lot of people say I could have been living on for my daughter, Bella, but what do they know? I'm not sure if what I've been doing ever since then could even be considered living, anyways. My heart was no longer held in my chest. It belonged six feet underground in the Forks cemetery, rotting away with flesh and bone.

Renee had decided I wasn't good enough, that the life I made for us wasn't good enough. Yet, despite all of that, I still wanted to follow her to the grave. Find a way to bring her back. To find the smile that made me happy graced across her face, to feel her beneath my fingertips and smell her hair as I hugged her in a tight embrace.

I only tried to survive my daughter. I couldn't leave her without both parents, have her debating feelings that I was left with that I wasn't good enough. She was more than perfect. She's innocent and looks just like her mother. I can't ruin that.

Renee followed me everywhere I went. As I woke up, while I slipped my cold pants over my legs at dawn to get ready for work, while I did my job and tried to distract myself, as I came home and enjoyed my only time with Bella over dinner. And, finally, when I would eventually lay my weary head down. But sleep never comes easily for me, it's always plagued by thoughts, memories and the what-ifs. What if I had done something different? What if I could have tried harder to make her happy? I was pretty sure, at the time, that I was doing everything I possibly could have. But now, looking back, I wasn't so sure. The God I used to believe in wouldn't have given me someone so perfect for me, only to take her away too soon. Others can call it a lesson or that the good die young. I say bullshit. I say I was robbed.

During a brief moment of lucidness between choking sobs, I was grateful for the empty cemetery. It allowed me to come in and be who I really was. To let go of everything I held behind the strong face and fake smiles. I could crumble and not have to worry about who could hear or see me. I could hide from everyones concerns and questions. Everyone saw the silent me, choosing to not talk about touchy subjects, Carlisle excluded. But they never saw this side of me. If they did, I know they wouldn't leave me alone and Bella would worry about me more than she already did. I kept it hidden from others for my safety and sanity. I kept it hidden from Bella for hers.

I continued to let the pain shed through my tears and cries, screaming at Renee for how she had killed me deep inside. That she killed me the day she choose to kill herself. The same things I always screamed at her, not much changing every time. Before I started to talk to her about Bella, I laid my heated cheek on the stone. I let the coolness of it soothe me as I started with the usual story. Closing my eyes, I began with her birth, the second happiest day of my life...

I awoke to the sound of a crow squawking and slowly opened my eyes. My body was stiff from all of the tension of crying and laying down on the ground. I watched as the crow bounced around in front of me, smiling slightly as I remembered Renee's words.

"Others see crows as the rats of birds. But I see something that is beautiful, cunning, noble and smart. I love them. I don't see why other people don't see it. They are my favorite."

It could be the sign of a weary man riddled with constant grief, but I took it as a sign that she was with me in this moment. I slowly uncurled my fingers from underneath my chin and stretched out my arm, trying to coax it closer to me. It first cocked his head to the side as I began moving closer, but the moment my arm was fully extended it flew away. I instantly berated myself for thinking such foolish thoughts. She was gone. Her only presence was in my head and through our daughter.

I kissed Renee's stone before I tried to slowly get up. My back popped under the strain and I groaned out loud. My body was becoming too old for this, but it didn't mean I would stop.

Checking my watch I realized it was close to six and Bella expected me home an hour ago. I don't know what work had told her, if anything, and I became worried that she was freaking out about me. I knew work would forgive me if I said I was too sick to call in, but Bella was going to be a bigger problem. She could read right through me sometimes.

I began the trek back home, my mind thankful for the extra time to think of an excuse and my body hating the walk. If I just would have decided to drive my car to work today, instead of walk, none of this would have happened. I could have waited until the solitude of my room or the shower to let the tears go.

By the time I had made it home, I still didn't have any clue what to say. I walked through the door as quietly as I could, like a teenager coming in after curfew and trying not to get caught. But as soon as the soft click of the latch echoed behind me, Bella was running down the hallway.

"Dad? Is that you?"

I stood, frozen. I don't know why.

"Oh, Dad," she sighed, throwing her arms around my midsection for a hug. I hugged her back, briefly liking the way her hair mimicked Renee's. A living proof that she was once here.

"You had me so worried," she spoke into my chest, the chest that constricted at her concern for me. "The station left a message on our answering machine, wondering where you were. I was beginning to get scared that something happened to you."

I gave her one more squeeze before moving around her so she couldn't look at my face. Really, so I couldn't see the burden I left on hers. How could I tell her where I was? How could I explain what a wuss of a Dad, who is a cop, has become? How could I explain how I can't sleep well at night in my bed, but in a cold cemetery on top of her mom, I could sleep for hours?

"What were you doing? Where were you?"

I continued into the kitchen to sit down in the chair to unlace my boots, wincing at the pain in my back and keeping my head down.

"I had some things I had to do," I answered lamely. I couldn't lie to her. It was the best I could come up with.

"All day?" She scoffed.

"It took a little longer than expected, yes." My words came out harsher than I meant for them to and I saw her jump back a little in surprise.

"I'm sorry," I tried to backpedal, rubbing my hand over my face. Even though I slept for hours on Renee's grave, I somehow still felt exhausted. "I just...I can't talk about it right now. Okay?"

I finally looked up into her eyes, pleading with her to let it go. I instantly felt selfish because what I found in her eyes were only care and pain. Apparently, she found something desperate in mine because she sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly as she went to the oven.

"I made you lasagna," she spoke quietly, her tone of sadness stabbing me where my heart should reside. "You feel cold, you should go change and eat while it's still hot to warm you up."

I nodded at her back and silently went up the stairs. I had to carefully pull my shirt over my head while getting dressed. My shoulders were starting to stiffen up and it was getting harder to move my head around without a sharp pain searing through it. When I came back downstairs I noticed she already made a plate for me and was sitting across the table, waiting. I grabbed a couple of Tylenol out of the cabinet and swallowed them with some water before taking my seat.

"How's school going?" I attempted to strike up the typical fatherly conversation while stabbing my fork in the mound of cheese. She knew I loved extra cheese but my stomach was churning at the thought of eating anything. I had to try, though. Not eating would upset her more.

"Okay," she shrugged.

I looked at her while slowly chewing my food, trying to come up with something else. I hated how strained and apart we had become. She used to be my little girl, hanging on my every word and wanting to do things like go fishing with me. All until that day, that is.

"Grades still good?"

"Yup. They are talking about making me valedictorian," she smiled and I found my own smile spreading through my mouthful of food.

"That's great," I replied after swallowing. "I knew you could do it, Bells. Before you know it, you'll be making more money than me at some high end job."

She chuckled and then the room fell silent again.

I continued trying to eat while thinking of what to say next. Thankfully, and unfortunately, she finished eating pretty quickly and got up to rinse off her plate.

"I need to go get some studying in for a test tomorrow. Do you mind if I go study before bed?"

I shook my head, feeling the tinge of remorse again at our new found relationship, or lack thereof. She smiled a half smile and walked over to me, kissing me lightly on the forehead.

"Get some sleep, Dad. Love you."

"Love you, too," I whispered as she walked up the stairs to her room.

I sat for many minutes, staring at my plate full of food and the beer she laid out for me collecting condensation. As soon as I was sure she wouldn't be coming back down I poured the beer down the drain and threw away the food, hiding it below the trash so she wouldn't find out. I couldn't drink anymore, either. Alcohol only fueled the depression, making me more likely to wallow in my own misery. I wrapped up the left overs and put it in the fridge then turned out the lights as I headed up to my own bedroom.

I cringed and groaned as I laid down on the bed, not bothering to turn on the lights. Instead, I stared at the random lines of lights on the ceiling. I was so tired but sleep wasn't going to come easily, as usual. Despite my breakdown earlier today, I felt stray tears run down my face, tickling my ears and wetting my hair. I didn't bother wiping them away. I let it continue until the blackness of sleep pulled me under, hoping for no more nightmares tonight.

I woke up to my alarm going off, glad that I could set it for every day since I forgot to last night. Without opening my eyes, I reached over to shut it off and was met with a searing pain that radiated all through my back. I yelled out in shock, now completely awake. I went to call out for Bella to help me and then remembered that she was already off to school. I tried to crawl over to the alarm to shut it off and then fell back into a fetal position. After many moments, I tried to straighten out my legs and quickly decided against it. I couldn't move at all without my back shooting pains.

"At least I didn't wake up instantly thinking of Renee," I thought. And then I realized just how sad that thought actually was. It took immense amount of pain to make me not have my first thought be her.

I inched my fingers and arm over to the phone that was next to my alarm and dialed Billy's number. His number was the only one I could remember by heart. After croaking out an explanation through hisses, he told me he was on his way with his son, Jacob. Jacob's school was out on a spring break two weeks earlier than Bella's. Billy also told me that he would call into my work for me, explaining what had happened. I only hoped that I could somehow work this into an excuse of why I was absent yesterday.

The whole feeling of being utterly alone fully hit me. Sure, I had my daughter and a best friend. But I didn't have someone to be here with me when this happened or to be around to help when I got back home. Well, I would have Bella when she wasn't in school or Billy's son. But it's not the same.

The bed suddenly felt so empty and cold right now as I stayed in a tense ball against the headboard waiting. Always waiting...Waiting for time to finally lend a kind hand and end it all for me. Or to reverse and let me fix all of the mistakes I had done, all of the things I could have done better to not end up here. Alone. Without her. Looking back, I know now that there is something I could have done to make her change her mind or maybe even not have that thought enter her head. I could have made her better. They always say love conquers all. So why did my love not help her? I was always the kind, loving husband. So where did I go wrong? The sad thing is, I know I messed up somewhere...But I still didn't even know what the hell I could have done.

Sitting in the doctor's office, I tried hard to keep my face void of any emotion. I could tell that Billy knew something was up. He somewhat knew how hard I was taking everything since her death, since I can be more of myself around him. Being childhood friends, I knew I could let some of my guard down around him. But he knew something was different, something was a little more off. Even though I could let him see the real me more than others, I still didn't want him to know the complete side, the thoughts that spun around my head daily or that I go to her grave as often as possible.

I certainly didn't need the doctor knowing any of it. He's been our family doctor for almost fifteen years, so he knew all of the details of that day. He always would ask me if I was okay and today wasn't any different. As I sat on his table for him to examine me, I did my best at acting like I was normal. Because, let's face it, even I knew I wasn't dealing with any of this normally. But I didn't want any of their damn psycho drugs to mess with me. I was comfortable dealing with it this way, as odd as that sounds. Even though I missed my bonding time with my daughter, I still wanted and preferred this being alone method.

He told me that I pulled out my back, which I basically figured out myself. He asked how I ended up doing it and, without even have to think, I came up with a lie easily. The words spilled out of my mouth before I even realized it: I was fixing up the house and lifted something too heavy with my back. I don't know if he wasn't that intuitive or if he just went along with everything I said to appease me. Either way, I was discharged back home with a list of what to do to help alleviate the tightness and pain, along with prescriptions for muscle relaxers and pain killers. He also gave me a work note, saying that I wasn't allowed to go back to work for the rest of the week.

Billy dropped me off at home while he and his son went to the pharmacy for me. I never liked being left alone with only my thoughts to occupy me. Which is ironic because I push people away, yet never want to be forced into solitude.

I wasn't looking forward to staring at these walls all alone while Bella was at school. Everything about these walls or tables made me think of her. The family pictures she made us get done professionally, the little figurines she would buy on our vacations sitting on the fireplace mantle, the drapes I couldn't take down that were yellowing with age and sun damage, even down to the color of the walls that she insisted would make the room look brighter.

Jacob returned with my prescriptions and heating pads about an hour later. Despite the urgings by him and his father to stay and help me, I protested, saying I was tired anyways. Even though I didn't want to be alone to think, I hated feeling like I was a burden even more. I knew that Billy wouldn't see it that way, but I would feel like a nuisance no matter what.

After Jacob grabbed some pillows and a blanket for me to lay down with on the couch, he gathered up anything else that I might need. The remote, the phone, a glass of water and my prescriptions. I gave him my thanks and told him to say the same to his father. Reluctantly, he left, leaving me to the cold silence of the living room. I turned on the TV just to try to not have it feel so empty, but that didn't help any. I knew sleep would be a great way to bypass all of the surrounding reminders of her in this house, but with the pain, I knew it wouldn't come easily. I picked up the two pill bottles from the stand next to me and tried to open them with as little strain to my back as possible. Looking closely at the typed out letters, I could read the description of them. One was Flexeril 10mg to take every eight hours and the other was Lortabs 10mg to take every four to six hours. The Lortabs said they could cause drowsiness, which was perfect for me. I opted for one of the Flexeril and two of the Lortabs, instead. The thought of being awake and coherent right now was too much for me, I wanted sleep now. After taking my medicine, I tried to get as comfortable as possible while remaining propped up.

About an hour later, I found myself numbly watching the highlights of a game from last season and realized I hadn't thought of her at all. I was just a motionless zombie staring at the TV without even remembering what I had just watched, let alone if I even thought of anything. I found myself smiling. Then, I started smiling wider because of the fact I was smiling. I rarely ever carried a grin, especially a real one. I started laughing at myself, realizing that the drugs must have really kicked in and I didn't even notice. It's like it crept up on me while my brain went to hibernation mode. And, the thing was...I kind of liked it. I didn't have my usual thoughts running around my head, tugging at my phantom heart anymore. Something about the medicine pushed it back to the point where it was barely licking at the back of my brain, freeing my soul and burdens for a miraculous moment. Any idea that came into my head would quickly get replaced by another or blend all into one, leaving me with the inability to even know what I was thinking of last.

With the new found euphoria spreading up my legs and up to my head, relaxing me in ways I never felt before, I drifted off to sleep.

Days had passed and, even though my back did start to become better, I found myself digging deeper into the abyss of the comfortably numbness of narcotics. I felt like I could do more with them. That it allowed me to place my body on some kind of co-pilot dependency. I was surprisingly more productive, more happy and less likely to shy away from interactions with other people. More importantly, it shut my brain up and made me feel more calm. Even Bella voiced her opinion on my change in demeanor. I was able to hold better conversations with her over dinner and share laughter with her. Even though I may not always remember everything that I had said. But the spark that was brought back to her eyes by seeing me this way made it well worth it.

I didn't completely stop thinking of Renee. But it allowed me to be able to think of her and not always be sucked back down. I could remember her or miss her, yet still be able to feel like I was functioning throughout my days.

I was sitting on the edge of my bed, staring at the bottle of pills that I always kept with me. I shook it slightly, frowning at the sound of only three more pills bouncing off of the plastic. I was scared of what tomorrow would bring without them. What if I woke up in the morning and felt the pull of depression trying to push me back into bed or make my feet run to her grave site? What if I would feel it more intensely because I was able to keep it at bay for almost two weeks now? What if the nightmares come back, leaving me a crying mess, softening the sounds of it into my pillow so Bella doesn't hear it?

My chest constricted at just the thought of it, making the air thick as I tried to breathe and rationalize. I was so tired of keeping my heart shelled away from the world. I was exhausted by all of the sorrow. I was afraid to try to forget about her, but the constant awareness was ruining me. In a way, I felt like I was betraying her. That I should forever drag my body around in a state of grief. But the human mind can only take so much. I wanted to shy away from the shadow that followed me at all times.

I began to understand why people chose drugs.

Before I knew it, my fingers were dialing the doctor's number to get an appointment as soon as possible.

I had to be aware of how I acted, just like before. Only this time, instead of faking happiness, I had to feign pain. Which was all an oxymoron to me. Before, I had to act like I wasn't in pain, that I didn't hurt so much that sometimes I wanted to crawl in beside her in that coffin and shrivel up and die. Now, I had to act like I was in physical pain to be able to continue getting the prescriptions.

In the back of my mind, I knew there was something wrong with this. But I didn't have it in me anymore to even give a shit.

The doctor wants to run more tests. He said there's no reason why I should still be hurting after a month from a pulled back, that something else might be wrong. He thinks that I might have caused damage to the vertebrae or something. I'm supposed to come back in for some x-rays and possible MRI.

I almost panicked right in front of him. What he didn't know, and I clearly did, was that nothing was going to show up on those tests.

I have three weeks to figure out how to keep fooling him.

Being a cop, I know which people sell drugs. I know where they live. I also am aware of how much of these drugs we end up confiscating each month.

I know that what I'm about to do is wrong. I tried to reason with myself that what Renee did was more fallacious than what I was planning. That if this was what I needed to do to cope with her wrongs, then that was okay. I mean, it's not like I was addicted to anything. I just liked the affect it gave me, the free-ness, for lack of better word.

Tonight was the first time, the beginning of the new lie.

I purposely patrolled neighborhoods or areas that I knew had heavy drug traffic. I looked for someone speeding or a car who's owner failed to use a turning signal. After the third car, I got lucky. While searching him and his vehicle, I found a bag with various pills shoved under the driver's seat. He was highly surprised that I told him I was only going to write up a speeding ticket and not charge him with drug possession or the intent to sell. I gave some huge bullshit speech about how drugs were bad and being a dealer was going to ruin his life or get him killed. While all of those things were true, I just wanted to be able to take his pills without anyone finding out.

He thanked me profusely, which almost made me feel bad. But the fear overran any other thought. I couldn't live my days like the sober man I once was. Even though it was against anything I believed in before, it was the only way I could come up with to survive. Renee chose death, I choose denial and blind ignorance.

I pretty much knew what every pill was after years of being a cop, but I wasn't quite familiar with their dosages. That night I went home and looked up every pill, jotting down information on what would be uppers or downers. I decided I would experiment with them, finding out what worked best.

That night I tried Xanax for the first time. I also discovered that they worked just as well, if not better than the Lortabs I was limited to before.

The next day I canceled my appointments, telling the doctor that a friend suggested doing yoga to help strengthen and stretch my back and that it seemed to be working. Again, he seemed to believe every word.

Two months later, I feel like I'm slowly going back to square one.

It seems as if I need to take more and more to be able to stop the image of her face from surfacing. The more I would take, the less I was able to normally function through my job or even holding conversations. The Lortabs no longer made me feel the false happiness. Instead, they made me moody, feeling angry for reasons unknown and shouting at people, even Bella, without being able to stop. When I upped my Xanax intake, it made me feel more sleepy, unable to keep awake at anytime that I sat down. A fire could start right in front of me and I probably wouldn't even notice. And, while I still thought sleep was a great way to run away, I couldn't preform the most simple task of paperwork. Something that should come easily after twenty-three years of being a cop. It's like pieces of my day would disappear and I couldn't figure out where I was or what had happened.

So I did the only thing that seemed resonable: Do harder drugs.

I came across someone having a small amount of Cocaine on a routine traffic violation and, despite the fact I knew just one time could kill you, I decided this was going to be the new thing to try. But it seemed to amplify every hidden feeling, bringing it roughly to the surface. I was wide awake with no sleep to sneak away to.

Every night would become my own personal experiment, trying new things, mixing some and checking them or marking them off my list. Trying, desperately, to find the key to forgetfulness.

I called work and requested that I could be able to use up a couple of days of my vacation pay. Seeing as I hadn't used any of them for the past nine years and telling them I had a sudden family emergency, they agreed. They told me they hoped everything was okay and to be back on Monday.

After three and a half months of being able to stay away, my feet dragged themselves to her grave. I immediately felt guilty for the way it looked unkempt and overgrown. Like it was stating to everyone who passed by that she had nobody mourning her death. The fresh flowers that I used to place on her stone every week had rotted into the soil, leaving only weeds to reach up and cover her name. I glared at them before angrily tearing at the soil to expose the engraving. She was worth more than this. Her name deserved to be written across the skies, etched on souls and hearts instead of cold, grey stone. Her soul merited undying love and admiration.

I couldn't find the happy medium between recollecting things about her throughout every day and being able to have the responsibility to behave like a normal person, to let the blame go. She was my everything. And, even though I love Bella with everything in me, my love for her mother is even greater. I never believed in soul mates, until now. Because kneeling here before her grave, shaken and a complete mess, I now know that it does exist. What other reason would my heart literally hurt so much, even after all these years. It brings a pain so deeply physical that I want to claw my way through my ribs just to be able to breathe.

I had nowhere to be and nothing that I had to do. All I wanted was to be by her side today. Nothing else even mattered anymore. I was done with running away from it. Bella was of age now, she was probably far more of an adult than I had been. I knew that she would be okay without me. Hell, she would probably be better off without me. But I know that Renee would greatly disapprove of me leaving Bella behind to face the world alone. I just didn't know if I had the strength to fight it off anymore. I was pretty sure that the answer was no and that I was quickly coming to the end of even trying to keep a straight face. I didn't know who I was anymore. I didn't feel like a man, I sucked as a cop, I failed as a husband and I lost on being a good father. The real me died so long ago that I can't remember what he was even like. She blew it all away and, in the end, I let her. Because she owned me, she held my heart and my true being. Because I willingly gave it to her the day I met her.

"I don't want to, Renee...I don't want to keep living alone in this reality without you," I whispered as I sank further down to the ground, my voice sounding so far away. "I don't want to and I don't even know if I can. But, I know that I need to let you go to become a better father to our daughter. I'm afraid that means that I'll never be one."

The images of the past flooded my mind, bringing me back to the most painful days of my life. Visions of her lifeless body on our bedroom floor with one of my guns laying next to her assaulted my brain. It took me years to be able to hold a gun after that, having to be pulled from the streets and stuck behind a desk piled with papers to file all day. I still have problems sometimes just feeling the weight of the gun by my side, like a completely fucked up version of carrying a reminder of that day. I couldn't stand the boredom of desk work anymore, though. The actions of the streets helped to distract me more, so I sucked it up and acted like it never bothered me. When, really, most of the time that I had to actually point my gun at someone, all I saw was her face staring right back at me.

When I found her, her eyes were still open. Light was no longer reflected and I was frozen as I stared right back into them, wondering how it was possible that I could find so much dullness in something that brightened my past twenty-three years. It was her eyes that I had nightmares about the most. My sub-conscious would concoct different scenarios of her eyes bleeding or her body being cold from hours of death, yet her eyes would still shed tears. Sometimes she wouldn't have any eyes at all, just a blackness, a void that mimicked what I felt every passing year.

I reached into my pocket for the last couple of Xanax pills that I had and dryly swallowed them, mentally promising Renee that I would try to find a better way of dealing with this, starting tomorrow. I just wanted this one last time to give in to the memory and pain. I convinced myself it was a way of letting it all out in order to let it go. I had already taken everything else I had today trying to make something work. I knew I was already shaky, that my tongue was feeling like sandpaper and I was starting to question everything around me, shielded in a blurry bubble of numerous drugs. The concept of time or anything held no meaning to me because I couldn't form a completely coherent thought beyond the drug-induced haze and vision of her face. If I was going to think of her despite the drugs, then I was going to be prepared for the onslaught of feelings that go along with it.

If I really tried hard enough, I swear I could almost feel her. I could smell her, the fragrance that didn't come from a bottle or dead plants. A smell that was naturally her. And, if I closed my eyes I could hear the far away sound of her laughter, a reminder of our better times.

I heard her voice, like she was right next to me, a breath against my ear as the wind blew softly around me.

"Don't open your eyes or I'll disappear," she whispered to me. "Lie down with me and relax."

I obeyed, spreading out on my favorite bed. Although it was made of concrete, it held the most important thing to me. I heard her murmur something and I cocked my head to the side, trying to listen better.

"I said, I'm sorry, Charlie."

My smile quickly faded.

"I didn't mean to make you have to go through this. It doesn't mean that I never loved you." Her voice drifted to me again. I wasn't sure if it was her ghost or a figment of my imagination. I wasn't about to open my eyes and found out, though.

"Then why did you do it?" I asked, my words choking on oncoming tears.

Silence followed and I waited, frozen in spot for fear of missing her answer. My eyelids were feeling heavier with every second that I waited and I tried hard to fight it off.

"Answer me!" I yelled out to the open sky.

"You couldn't have done anything," she finally answered, a little louder this time, almost demanding.

"You're wrong," I shook my head back and forth. The jagged concrete dug into my scalp but the pain I knew I should have felt didn't register to my brain.

"No, I'm not." Her voice was softer now, almost sounding like she was crying, too.

"You were my greatest love. I'm supposed to be able to save you, even if it's from yourself. If I can't, what good am I? I'm nothing, Renee. I'm nothing without you and I'm nothing because I couldn't save you. I'm supposed to be there to protect you, to be the man of the house and make sure our family stays together. How can I keep on trying to live when I couldn't make sure that you could do the same? I can't do this anymore. I don't want to exist anymore. I don't have the energy to keep on faking it. You have no idea how much this has killed me. I'm tired of looking for the end of it or for hope. Because there is none. I'm done, Renee. I give up."

If she had a reply, I never heard it. My crying and screams were too loud. Besides, if she tried to give me encouragement, I wouldn't believe it anyways. Sometimes I thought I heard other sounds as I continued to kick and scream for my own ending. But it didn't matter. The only thing I wanted was to be able to follow after her in death, to end my hell on earth and be with her forever on the other side. And, if the "other side" wasn't real, I was positive that it was better than this.

I figured if I tried hard enough, if I wished or screamed hard enough, I could possibly make it happen.

I kept screaming her name, over and over, until the sleepiness won. The blackness surrounded my brain, muddled my thoughts, distorted my voice and, I swear, I thought I could hear Bella's and Carlisle's voices. It would figure that my own mind would try to fuck with me and imagine Carlisle's voice at this moment. I wasn't even safe from myself.

I couldn't help but laugh. I'm not quite sure why, maybe because there was nothing else left to do. I've cried so many times that maybe an almost maniacal laughter made sense. It felt good to do something besides crying, though. It did help me, somehow, as I willingly walked further into the darkness, hoping I never woke back up.

BellaPOV

It's been five and a half months since the day I found my Dad writhing on the ground, heavily shaking, pulling at his hair and screaming. He was so far gone into his own head that he didn't even realize I was there, instead having conversations with me like he believed I was my Mom.

Carlisle called me today and told me that he thought my Dad was having a good day and would probably be able to handle a visit from me. It had been almost two weeks since I've been able to see him. He's had his good days and his bad days. Some weeks seeming worse than others, but I feel like he's making progress.

I just wish I could have caught it sooner. I was too rapped up in being happy that I felt like I had my Dad back that I never stopped to question why the sudden change had even occurred. Or I could have even stopped it as far back as to when I noticed that he wasn't eating, hiding his food in the trash. Or when he started waking me up almost every night from screaming and crying in his sleep. I chose not to talk about them because I knew he would act as if nothing was wrong and shut me out even more.

I could have prevented this from happening. Maybe if I would have acted on it sooner he wouldn't be in a psych ward. He could have been happier. I could have saved him from himself...I could have done anything...Looking back on it now...