BPOV

My arms. My legs. My stomach. My feet, even. Covered with my secret. Some puckered pink, others still crimson lines. It had all started when I tripped foolishly on the threshold of my bedroom. I had stumbled and snagged my hand on the corner of my desk, leaving a jagged line. It beaded red, and I became completely fascinated with the small wound. The blood slowly crawled down my hand, my forearm, and slowly gathered in the crease of my elbow.

I walked slowly to the bathroom, watching with enraptured eyes as my lifeforce dripped cautiously onto the hardwood floor. It was rather late, so Charlie was long asleep. I creaked the bathroom door open, and closed it again. I sat in the tub, and the blood slowly rained onto my sleep clothes. I thought of something, and smirked devilishly, almost sadistically. I rand two fingers from my elbow to my wrist, gathering the crimson fluid. Then, I turned toward the wall and sat on my knees. The blood dripping from my appendages, I wrote deliberately onto the wall, the words, Help Me.

I laughed quietly but maniacally, and gathered more precious liquid, fingerpainting like a giddy child. When my...ahem...masterpiece, per say, was complete, it depicted handprints, the aforementioned phrase, and a crude drawing of a stick-figure encased in a straitjacket. It was quite disturbing, and I eventually grabbed the showerhead, and turned the water on. Of course, in the process of washing off the bloody mess on the wall, I was utterly soaked to the bone. I redressed in clean clothes, then tip-toed down the steps, avoiding the creaking stairs.

I inertly made my way into the kitchen, and searched throughout the drawers until I found what I wanted: a very sharp paring knife. I giggled humourlessly, and took the steps quickly, again avoiding rickety stairs. I cleaned the splattered blood off the wooden floors, and crept back into my room. I laid upon my comforter on my stomach, and admired the utensil in my hands. Afterwards, I scrutinized my paled forearms. My veins and arteries were pronounced through the thin veil protecting them from the cruel outside world. I carefully slid the flat sides of the short blade along the skin right below my wrist.

I smiled poignantly to myself, and, without warning, dug the object's point into my skin, and raked it across the width of my forearm. I groaned at the feeling, but laughed mercilessly on the inside. I loved being able to feel something in the darkness, even if it was only pain.

This happened on a nightly basis within the next few, long, pitieous months. I wore long-sleeves all the time now, and either Charlie hadn't noticed, or didn't think it meant anything. I had easily ran out of room on my arms, from my shoulders to my wrists, and immediately began work on my legs. I had a few on my feet, also.

When Edward came back a few choice months afterwards, I tried to keep as calm as possible. I didn't self-inflict anymore, and I've learned not to flinch away from him when he touched my arms or legs. I only wore long-sleeves now, and if I couldn't, I'd wear a jacket the entire time. I wouldn't let Alice or Rosalie dress me anymore. I was extremely cautious at every waking moment so that no one found out my shameful secret.

But, time passed, and the cuts were merely pink scars. But, I didn't take amy chances. Then, Alice won me over. She forced me to put on a red crop-top-tube-top crossover, blue and black horizontally striped short-shorts -- which were only about four inches in length -- with black garters and black thigh high socks, and three-inch black stillettos.

"C'mon, it'll be fun," the little demon pixie had said. Sure. And we also should have decided to force Bella jump into a lake full of man-eating fish, too! I started thinking about the many months in the past -- against my will -- and started to cry. I locked the door to the closet I was pushed into, though I knew it would do no good against seven vampires, and crawled to the back corner of the closet, tears splashing down my pale cheeks. I grappled through the drawer in the back and found the object of my fears; the same paring knife.

I was breathing hard, and I gripped the handle in my hand, and made a long slit from my mid-forearm to my wrist, and I did the same with the other. They weren't of equal length, but they'd have to do. The blade was smothered with my gore, and rythmically dripped onto their white carpet, a striking contrast of colours. I knew someone would come in very soon, so I shakily stood. I held the knife like a pencil in my left hand, and proceeded to put my arms behind my back, as if I was being handcuffed. My hands were cupped slightly, and the blood slithered into my palms.

BOOM.

The earth-shattering crash of the oak door made me shut my eyes, but I didn't flinch in the slightest. I heard heavy breathing, and gasps. I slowly opened my eyes to the scene before me. Jasper was being held back by Emmett and Esme, Alice was staring speculatively, her head cocked to one side. Rosalie was glaring daggers, for whatever reason. Edward was the one who had broken the door down, it seems, from the sawdust in his hair and the fact he was the only one in the closet with me. His eyes were wide with fear and thirst and amazement. Carlisle was standing, astonished, beside Esme. Jasper was growling and yelling and screaming, and a wave of bloodthirstiness washed over the scene.
Carlisle ran in at vampire speed, and pushed Edward back. I was ashamed, and hung my head, dropping the knife to the ground.

"Get Jasper out of here. Now," came Carlisle's voice in an authorative tone. Emmett, Esme, and Jasper were gone in the blink of an eye, and Alice left also. Rose growled something under her breath and stalked out of the room. Carlisle then carefully pushed me out into the bedroom, and sat me on the bed. I moved my arms so I could see the blood pool in my hands.
He cleaned up my mess quickly and accurately, but had no need for bandages. It was already closed up. Gratefully, he asked no questions. He told me to go to Edward's room -- my room -- and change into something comfortable and lay down. I did as he asked.

Later that night, I was lying on the bed with Edward in our room. He was looking at me apprehensibly, and I won't lie; I was scared. I was scared he would yell at me, about how stupid I was, and leave me again. I took a deep, shuddering breath, and looked into his molten eyes.

"Bella," he started, with a scared and vulnerable tone. "Wh-why did you do that to yourself? Are there...more?" He was shaking. I wanted to comfort him, but my arms were too sensitive at the moment. I was ashamed, and I was sure it showed on my face and in my eyes. I said nothing. I stood from the bed, his eyes stalking my every move. Then, I started to strip. I was unbuttoning the green button-down shirt I took from his closet, when his voice interrupted me.

"Bella. What are you doing?"

I retorted, "Do you want to see these or not?" He swallowed, and slowly nodded. I finished with the buttons of the shirt and he gasped quietly. The scars criss-crossed across my abdomen, over my shoulders, and down my arms. They were everywhere. I even made a crude drawing of a broken heart on my left breast, where my heart is slowly being pieced back together.

"Bella...oh Jesus." He mumbled, loud enough for me to hear without him realizing. My hearing had gotten even more sensitive from listening to the hallways to make sure Charlie wasn't coming around to check on me. He never did. He didn't even wake up to my screaming nightmares anymore.

"Don't get too excited," I muttered sarcastically. He almost glared. "There's more." I then pulled off the green, comfy scrubs I got from one of the ER doctors I was close to on my birthday a few years back; I'm still not sure if that's a good thing or not. Short scars, long scars, small yet deep pinpricks. They ran down my thighs, across my knees, over my calves, and stopping just after my ankles. I hung my head again, ashamed of myself.

"Oh, Bella." Strong arms gingerly wrapped around my waist, hugging me to my love's chest. "Why did you do this to yourself, love? I can't wrap my mind around this." I was desperately trying to hold back tears, but to no avail. They slowly trailed their way down my pale complexion, and my arms instinctively wrapped around his.

"I accidentally fell in my room and my hand hit the corner of my desk. It started bleeding. I messed with it, painting. I had probably gone off the deep end. I liked feeling something for once, besides the numbness and complete despair of your leave. It was something, and I reached out for it. I did it ever since. I stopped when I knew you were back for good. Today, I just...broke down, I guess. I'm sorry. For everything." He laughed. Albeit, humourlessly, but still! He laughed at me!

"Love, what do you have to be sorry about? If anything, I should be the one begging for your forgiveness! Bella, I made a huge mistake, and I never should have left you. I was foolish to thing it was going to be good for you. Bella, I am so, so sorry for leaving you and I do hope that you'll one day forgive me. I'd completely understand if you won't, though." I gasped at him and abruptly turned to face him in his arms.

"Edward! I can't believe you'd actually think I wouldn't forgive you! Good God, Edward! I love you with everything I have, and nothing will ever change that. Are you listening to me, damn it!?" He wasn't looking at me. He was staring off into space somewhere. I groaned in frustration and grabbed his perfect face in my hands.

"Edward Anthony Masen Cullen, God damn it, listen to me!! You are the world to me, my heart, soul, and love. Nothing can ever change that, not even our mistakes. It was my mistake to turn into this...psychopathic masochist and it was your mistake to leave to God-knows-where. But, they're in the past, Edward! We've made our amends, and now it's time to freaking get over it!" I yelled. His eyes were wide with surprise. I wrapped my arms around his neck, despite their blatant protests, and smashed my lips onto his.

Our kiss was slow and passionate, but it only lasted for a few long moments. He kissed down my neck lovingly, and back up my jaw. He kissed my lips softly once more before pulling back completely. My smile was on his face, and a small smile lit up my face as well.

"Never again, love. Promise me that you'll never do something even relatively close to this ever again. In return, I'll promise to never leave you again, either."

"I swear it on the River Styx." We both smiled again, and he chuckled lightly.

"I swear it upon the River Styx," he repeated. We finally let go of one another, and I blushed. I had completely forgotten I was almost naked in front of him. He chuckled again and kissed my head, before walking towards and sitting on our bed. I quickly pulled on my sleep clothes from earlier, and curled up with my Edward in the bed, slowly falling asleep to his velvet voice humming my lullaby in my ear.

FIN.

A/N: Hey. Yah. I haven't updated in FOREVER. But, I just haven't felt like it. :\ Yeah. I've been working on this ALL NIGHT LONG. I don't know why, either. (shrug) Gave me something to do, at least. Haha. Yeah. Well, Mom's gonna come in here in a minute and kill me for being on here at...12:40 AM (central standard time). So, I gotta go. D: I'll put up a link on my profile of a pic I found that basically inspired this one-shot. :D Haha.

:3
Trina