A/N - this is self indulgent drivel. It will update often (daily), and it will mostly be unbeta'd. It's angsty, but because I'm writing it, you can expect comedy as well. Join me, won't you?

Update: June 10/2015 - this story is likely not going to be completed. Just a warning if you plan on reading ahead.

Armed with courage and Cuervo, I smiled at the doorman, tightening my jacket around my admittedly whorish dress.

"I need to see Edward Cullen." It was a simple request, albeit one that was met with incredulous eyes. If his mouth moved at all, I couldn't be certain. "I think he still lives here."

After a period of interminable silence, I noticed the shudder of his mouth. "Is he expecting you, ma'am?"

Not even a little bit. I shook my head. "But could you let him know it's Bella, and it's an emergency?"

I checked my make-up in the lobby mirror while the doorman called up to Edward. My mascara bled down my face, and I couldn't remember if I'd been crying or if the skies had opened up.

Maybe it was both. Pathetic fallacy always lent me an undeserved feeling of relevance.

"Fourteenth floor," the doorman said, pressing the recall button by the elevator.

I stepped in, closing myself off in the tiny space, breathing. What the fuck was I doing? My mind raced as the elevator crept, each button illuminating slowly and then all at once. I thought about Christmas lights and broken ornaments and my marriage.

I really didn't want to think about my marriage.

The door flew open and I ran, not remembering which direction I was headed. Air filled my lungs, the rise and fall of my chest as I breathed became my focus. Inhale: panic. Exhale: sorrow.

Want.

A single, selfish word. It echoed through my skull, pumped blood through my veins, and propelled me forward. My mind polarized, lending order to my chaotic misery.

Want want want want want...

Jacob said I was selfish when I left. He was right; I didn't care.

I'd never allowed myself the chance to be selfish before. But I couldn't live like this anymore - in the shadow of all this pain. The dark, even when my eyes were open, all I could see was dark.

I wasn't foolish enough to believe Edward Cullen would be my salvation, but I had to do something.

This was my compromise between living and dying. I wouldn't swallow that bottle of pills I'd kept in the inside pocket of my coat like a cyanide injection - an easy way out when the pain became too much.

I wouldn't.

"Bella?"

Green eyes. Strong jaw. Shadows and light over pale skin. I scrambled to put together the puzzle of his face, to see him as a whole.

I failed.

"Edward." My voice sounded manic even to myself. I concentrating on his left eye while I spoke the only truth I could manage. "I've flown across the country to fuck you."