Bella stared through her window. Days like this, scheduled hunting days, were horrible for her. She missed her Edward dearly, and she felt as if the loneliness would consume her. The fear of being abandoned combined with the loneliness brought Bella to a place she did not want to ever be again.
She remembered very clearly how she felt when he was gone. It had been almost a year now, but she still felt the pull of the darkness in the back of her mind. The hungry monster, ready to feed. Her lips were in a tight line, and brows furrowed as she willed away the darkness. It felt worse every time. The darkness, that is. It seeped into her brain, dragging every emotion it came across with it, consuming them. She hated the darkness.
The way it ran through her brain, staining it and consuming the emotions. She knew if it got too far inside, it would take days with Edward to "wash out the stains." She swallowed hard. What would her excuse be this time? She craved his touch daily, but during these times she absolutely attached. Her desperate need for his comfort was rather embarrassing, therefore she turned to a vast array of excuses. Maybe she would beg Alice for a slumber party, making everyone happy. But no, that would not end well in the state she was in. Perhaps she could claim illness, or ask him to take her out to dinner. He would be glued to her in either of those situations! Would he believe her? She doubted he would. Bella would willingly admit she wasn't much of an actress. She knew that her previous lies, carefully crafted and executed, barely passed. Despite his inability to read her mind, he felt as if he could see right through her. See right through her lies and into her desperate, stained mind. This on occasion led Bella to think that she should just tell him. It would be so much easier that way, but it would make it more difficult for him to leave his side. If he never left, he could never hunt, and well… Bella just knew that keeping her mouth shut and suppressing all of her true feelings would be best for the both of them.
She was pulled from her thoughts as the taste of copper trickled into her mouth. The pain in her lips announced itself, and she quickly opened her mouth. The tight line of her lips had made its way into her mouth at some point, captured between frustrated teeth. With a half sigh/half disgusted moan she made her way to the bathroom. She flipped on the light and spit into the sink. She could still taste the copper, however, this time there was no disgust. Her mind was elsewhere. The pain. The pain. It was there, the burning sort of pain, but she was not uncomfortable. She was feeling the pain. She was feeling. Then an idea struck.
She closed the door of the bathroom and sat on the edge of the bathtub. She pulled her phone from her pocket. She briefly considered sending a quick text message to Edward, telling him she needed him now. But she decided that this would call for an explanation, and was in no way about to explain to Edward what was occurring. With a bit of courage, she managed to open a browser and set it to private mode. She entered her question, read responses quickly, and placed her cell phone on the bathroom counter. She looked up into the mirror and pulled the hair tie from her wrist. She then gathered her hair into a messy ponytail onto the top of her head. She opened the door to the bathroom and began to descend the stairs. She was halfway down the stair case when her father crossed her mind. Was he at home? Was he at work? What time is it? She glanced quickly into the living room, and after finding it empty, continued her journey.
Bella stood directly in front of the proper drawer. She paused for a moment, doubting her ability to go through with her new decision. She swallowed, and then extracted a pair of scissors from the household's designated "junk drawer." After replacing the drawer into its proper position, she headed back up the stairs. With a click of the lock, her nerves calmed ever so slightly. Anxious to begin, she set the scissors down and began removing her clothing. Bella threw the clothing lazily onto the counter, covering her phone and the scissors. She then pulled open the medicine cabinet and dug carefully. With a shaking hand, she extracted a razor from the value sized package. She removed the safety covering, and set both parts down. She slipped her hand under her clothing in search of the scissors. She was slowly filling with a sense of paranoia, and had begun glancing around the locked bathroom, in her empty home. Several deep breaths later, she picked up the scissors and the razor. The internet had said that cheaper razors were easiest to extract blades from. For once in her life, she was happy to have the low quality toiletries on hand.
A few pathetic attempts later, she had successfully clipped the plastic edges of the razor, leaving the single blade exposed. She swallowed and gently placed the blade on the edge of the bathtub. She quickly cleaned her mess, picking up every teeny bit of plastics, leaving no evidence. Or perhaps, postponing her little therapy session. After all of the unnecessary pieces of the razor were thrown out, she stepped into the bathtub. Staring at her stretched legs, doubt clouded her mind. She ignored it, allowing the darkness to sweep it away. She picked up the blade, feeling the cool metal between her fingers. Gently, she balanced the razor on her leg, allowing her to stroke the unblemished thigh. Then, staring straight ahead, with as little thought as possible, she placed the blade between her thumb and forefinger, and dragged the blade across her thigh with a slight pressure. Bella looked down and noticed a slight redness, only a hint of a scratch on her thigh. No blood, and more importantly no lasting pain.
Frustrated with her failure, she picked up the blade more swiftly this time. She stared at her thigh and pressed the blade into her leg more violently, dragging it a short distance. She lifted the blade once more, but smiled as she saw beads of blood rise from the tiny red line on her thigh. Her smile only grew as she successfully mutilated her own body over and over again, being sure to include the other thigh as well. A tiny laugh escaped her as she realized how worked up she had gotten over nothing. She had just proved to herself that feeling in his absence wasn't so hard after all. Looking triumphantly at her legs, she counted the tiny red lines. Eleven cuts of varying size and depth decorated her thighs. Even though there were more than intended, and they had traveled father down her leg that ideal, she was happy with herself. Happy.
She lazed in the bathtub for a few more minutes, deciding it was best to wait until most of the bleeding was over to begin clean-up. The blood nearly stopped flowing when she stood up. She wiped the excess blood from the razor onto her stomach, allowing her to gently toss it onto her clothes without worry. Bella then pulled the shower curtain closed, and turned on the shower. The cold water caused the cuts to sting furiously, and Bella willed herself to stay in place, feet still. The new rush of pain caused her to smile once again. She then stepped out of the shower, thighs cleaned and major pools of blood gone. Digging through the medicine cabinet for the second time that day, she retrieved band aids to place on the cut threatening to bleed again. She pulled her clothes on carefully, opting to leave the jeans on the counter.
After placing her blade into a box of tampons and double checking for stray pieces of plastic, she exited the bathroom. Only one foot out of the door before she decided upon grabbing the jeans. Thirteen steps later, she tossed her jeans onto the floor of her closet, and pulled on a loose pair of sweat pants. She then walked to her dresser and picked up her hair brush. In swift, careless motions she removed the hair tie and brushed through the slightly damp hair. She briefly wondered if the dampness was more from the minute-long shower or from her sweat. After deciding she didn't really care either way, she abandoned the hair tools and traveled back to the bathroom. She kneeled down in front of the cabinet under the sink, staying very aware of the pulling band aids as she extracted a bottle of bleach. Bleach acquired and placed on the counter, she placed the bath plug into the drain. She turned on the tap and managed to pick up the trash can and scissors in one quick movement. She trudged down the stairs, ready for this to all be over. Cleaning was really ruining the "feeling-things-thing" for her. After replacing the scissors and dumping the bathroom trash into the kitchen trash, topping it all off with spoiled leftovers, she had made it back up the stairs. Bella poured some bleach into the bathtub and placed the bottle back in its place below the sink. She then began crumpling bits of toilet paper and tossing them into the trash, cleaning her ears to throw in some used cotton buds, breaking a perfectly good hair tie to throw in the mix, and topped the bathroom trash with hair from her brush. She turned off the bathtub's tap and allowed it to sit for a moment. After the tub had soaked to her satisfaction, she pulled the plug, washed her hands, and retired to her bedroom.