Author's Note: I have some ideas about where this is going and I have the next couple chapters ready, but I wanted to see how you would evaluate my writing in case I need to improve on the grammar or characterization.
i.
They don't allow shoelaces on the unit. Or pencils. Or underwire. Or anything, really, anything used without supervision.
The packets that are handed out are ripped apart because staples are a hazard as well. The stupid, pointless packets offering no new information. The sharp, weak staples so easily separated.
And then there's Bella. All cold and alone and broken in a way she never thought possible. And why wouldn't they turn on the damn heat? With all the money coming from the community's taxes, you'd think a bit more of it would go to insulating the hospital. But, no. It was rainy, just like every other day. It was so proverbial.
They call it the "Adolescent Mental Health Unit" and there's a uniform. An unflattering, baggy piece of junk - a sorry excuse for a dress code. The letter's printed on the front are "BH," standing for "Behavioral Health."
It's all a bunch of groups and Bella doesn't believe they serve any real purpose, in the end. It's just to pass time...to occupy the minds of the patients..."the inmates", she mumbled dryly to herself. They sit in a circle and talk about their feelings and it's so damn typical. They share their stories and Bella doesn't believe her's is any of their business, so she's silent. She knows she'll have to start talking or she'll end up on the other side - the adult side, the permanent side, but she can't bring herself to care. A mental hospital? Really?
She vaguely reflects on how Charlie had sent her here, at the advice of an anonymous caller. But she knew who called her in. She just didn't see why Charlie should listen to him.
A certain vampire expressed concern. He figured that if he couldn't keep an eye on her, the hospital was the next best thing. And Carlisle wasn't there either, so she couldn't really think up a good escape plan.
"Isabella," a voice calls her out of her thoughts.
"It's Bella," she snaps back, rolling her eyes, her mind still far from the subject at hand.
"Bella, it's your turn."
The owner of the voice looks annoyed, as if she expects the patients to actually pay attention to each other, or just in general.
"Yeah, pass," she waves her hand nonchalantly, eager to return to the confines of her mind.
"Not this time."
"What?" Now Bella's annoyed.
"What is one achievement you've made in the time you've been here?"
Bella thinks. She thinks because nothing is coming to mind and she doesn't think she's really improved on anything in her time here. In fact, she feels she's only gotten worse. She'd never been a social butterfly, but the lack of socialization in the hospital was enough to drive anyone mad. They weren't supposed to talk outside of the preordained groups and Bella thinks "That's a stupid rule."
But she knows that, for now, she should tell the woman what she wants to hear.
"I've learned that my life is worth more than what other's put in to me."
She doesn't believe it, but she says it anyway. Without Edward, her life meant nothing.
The woman nods approvingly and Bella counts down the last ten minutes before group is over, knowing full well that another was to come.
---
Bella goes to bed tired, even though she knows she can't sleep. If she stays up, she'll have to think some more and nurses and orderlies might ask her questions that she doesn't feel like answering.
There is no rest for the wicked, and there is no rest for the hopelessly in love.
She wonders. 'Why did Edward leave me?' and 'Was I not good enough for him?" She muses and questions, but never really accepts. He's gone...and it doesn't make any sense.
How could he love her one minute and reject her the next? How could he leave after claiming to care. Was she that disgusting?
And Charlie. Why couldn't he trust her to be safe? Granted, she's given him no reason to, but that's just logic and logic has no place in insanity.
She doesn't like being locked up - confined. It's a damn tired act and it's only meant for psychos and serial killers.
She may be depressed, but she has every reason to be.
She can't escape him...even in dreams.
---
"Bella, wake up."
The words are pointless - she could never truly sleep. Not without him. She just awoke screaming and crying and the nurses were constantly checking on her, being as someone was screaming bloody murder. But it was just Bella. Alone, confined, empty.
She figures she'll have to start at least pretending to be making progress, or she'd be left here longer.
It's a game and she intends to come out on top.
"Yeah," she responds, pretending to wipe the sleep from her eyes.
Breakfast is eggs and bacon. She gets to pick, but she has no appetite. They always check the trays to make sure the food is consumed, probably because of those with eating disorders, but they probably are also making sure no one is too depressed to eat. Bella doesn't want to, but she stuffs the fork between her lips and slowly eats her breakfast, gagging inwardly. Hospital food isn't bad, per se, definitely not as bad as people claim it is, but it's food all the same and it's the last thing she wants.
She's slowly drifting in to insanity. At least that's what the psychiatrist tells the uppers. Bella wouldn't buy it for one minute, but they keep that information from their patients.
---
Bella feels claustrophobic. It's a 16x16 cell and that's not enough space. She needs high ceilings.
Some days, all she wants to do is curl up in a ball and die. She knows she's being melodramatic, but she can't bring herself to care.
---
Days go by and no matter how much she fakes it, the hospital staff isn't buying it. They're probably used to patients trying to weasel their way out. They're used to the liar and the hypocrites and Bella is a statistic, not an individual.
She wonders if they just collect patients for the money.
They're making an honest attempt to help, but she doesn't need their sympathy. She needs Edward.
---
Charlie comes to visit two weeks later. He couldn't bring himself to come earlier. He doesn't want to see her like this. He knows she'll guilt him and he's never been able to resist his little girl. He wants to give her everything, but he knows she's beyond his help. He can't save her.
"Hey, Bells. How ya holdin' up?"
She just glares at him, hurt in her eyes.
"Look, I know you're upset, but I'm doing this for you. To help you. Your mom's worried, your friends are worried, I'm worried..."
"I'd be fine if I was just out of here," she cuts in.
"That's a lie and you and I both know it," Charlie responds. It's not so difficult to speak the truth now. He had to help her, he had to make her see how ridiculous she was being.
"You don't know what it's like," Bella shoots back without thinking.
"You don't think I ever felt depressed after your mom left? You don't think it hurt? I'm not a superhero, Bells. Your dad bleeds too."
She never thought she would hear those kinds of words out of his mouth. Happy-go-lucky Charlie? Honest, sensitive Charlie? Awkward Charlie? Feeling depressed? Feeling how she felt?
She couldn't believe it, she couldn't wrap her mind around it.
"They didn't send you here."
"I wasn't making attempts to harm myself. To kill myself."
"Yeah, well," Bella's voice trails off, not really knowing what to say, and not caring either. She needed to make him see that she was hurting more by being locked up than she would taking the risks she had before...living...seeing him.
They sat silent for a while.
"I should probably go," Charlie rubs the back of his neck with his right hand. "Keep your chin up."
He reaches out for an awkward hug, but Bella rejects it.
"Okay," he says, walking out.
---
She longs for the sickeningly cute things Edward would say to her. Longs for the cliches and the romance and the obsession. Longs for the tender kisses and his soft lips.
And she thinks of Jacob. She knew he wanted more than she could give. She knew that he was the one thing keeping her human. The one thing she needed to make her life right. But that would mean letting go of Edward and she couldn't bring herself to do that. Not yet and, most likely, not ever. She knew Edward would come back. He had to.