I woke up in a daze. I stared at the ceiling, I couldn't move. I couldn't believe I was still alive, and had been for the last week. Had it been a week? So long since he had gone. So long. I turned my head to stare into the mirror that hung across the room. Who was that? It wasn't anyone I recognized, or, for that matter, cared to recognize. My eyes barely opened, my hair hadn't been washed, my clothes unchanged. Charlie was probably downstairs right then, wondering if I was still alive himself.

I couldn't feel anymore. I had only gotten up when Charlie had forced me, and then made me eat. I didn't want to, it made me want to hurl. Everything reminded me of him. Everything made me want to scream my lungs out until someone put me out of my misery. I laughed sickly at my own down turned humor. But I didn't smile. I couldn't remember what a smile felt like.

I knew he would make me go back to school soon. Charlie and his fatherly ways. He didn't quite understand the importance of what had happened. He had no idea what a pile of nothing my whole existence seemed to be. I could tell what he was thinking, how little he knew of what we had had. But I wouldn't blame him for it. Somehow, I would stand, I would walk and go to school just as before.

There would just be one missing piece.

I got up, dragging my feet across the cold floor, and walked down the stairs. My father seemed surprised to see me out of bed, though it was already well past noon.

"Hey honey," His grin just made my urge to hit something stronger, "You know uh, Bells, tomorrow's Monday…" he trailed off and I interrupted his meaningless banter.

"Yes Dad, school tomorrow I know," I tried to sound annoyed by his comments, maybe even a little angry, but I just couldn't. Emotions eluded me. I couldn't convince anyone of them. Not that there had been anyone to convince. I hadn't been outside the house at all during that long, dismal week.

Mechanically, I ate breakfast, the sight of the cereal bowl tearing at my insides. I folded my arms across my chest, but the pressure didn't ease the pain. I couldn't even hold myself together. And I couldn't figure out why my whole body was still in one piece. It didn't seem like it should be.

That night I took a shower, and after going through the motions of personal hygiene I was completely wiped out. I laid in my bed, right back to my warm comforter. I pulled the pillow up to my nose. He may have taken the pictures, and the CD, but not the smell that, though it was fading, still clung to that pillow, where he rested his head every night, right next to my own.

The tears poured out easily now, burning my already raw cheeks, soaking my clothes and hair. Soon I had cried myself to sleep, and there were no dreams. The silence was so loud now, and my sleep restless. It was going to be a long night.

When I awoke to a sunny morning, disappointment shot through me. It was without good reason though, now that the sun wouldn't cause any changes in my already miserable day ahead. It used to. I wished it would, I wished that, like before, just the sun being out would change my entire outlook on…everything. I sat up and looked out at the blue sky. The sparkling dew that still hung on the window. I sighed, a heavy, sad sigh.

Then I went through the motions, to make myself look presentable. I didn't honestly care about what people thought of my appearance. I wasn't out to impress anyone. Not now, not anymore. Finally I was ready, and I walked past Charlie who was heading off to work.

"G'morning Bells!" He said, all chipper and wide eyed.

"Hngph," I mumbled a greeting that sounded more like I was about to be sick. I walked out the door and morbidly sunk into the seat of my old Chevy. I remembered when I first got that truck, I remembered the first day I drove that truck. But I shook my head, clearing away memories that didn't need to be brought back from the dead.

I stuck the key in the ignition and headed to school. The familiar atmosphere was too much to bear. I had gotten used to not seeing that familiar face pop through my window every night, but school was another story. It was too strange, too strange to go through my day, doing school work and being mindlessly followed by Mike Newton. Several people said few words to me that first day back.

Most said "Welcome back Bella, it's nice to see you again." When Lauren said it it sounded a little on the sarcastic side, but I was too preoccupied to notice.

When I saw Angela at lunch she sat next to me. Angela was someone that didn't need talking, and as I needed a good bit of quiet, I went on eating my lunch there with her. Angela looked up several times, her face showing mostly concern, but also a little curiosity. I decided to divulge on the subject. I knew that Angela was too polite to ever ask, but I also knew that if I were to tell anyone it would be Angela.

"They're gone," I said, foreseeing my friends unspoken question.

Angela only nodded and looked at me. But then she did something unexpected. She patted my hand and gave me a timid smile. It was a small gesture, but it made my day just that much less cheerless.

For the rest of the day I avoided my usual routes to classes, and hung around Angela every chance I got. By the time I went home, I was completely exhausted.

I never thought it would take that much energy just to exist. I sighed, something I had been doing a lot as of late, and walked into the front door. Charlie was about to say something to me but decided not to after seeing the look on my face. I went up to my desk and did my homework without really thinking about it. As soon as I could, I collapsed into bed and inhaled the scent on my pillow. It was almost completely faded, but the memories wouldn't go away, as much as they hurt. My head was spinning and all the familiar feelings of emptiness filled my aching lungs and heart.

If I had ever in my life felt pain. This was it. This was the ripping at my chest and the throbbing in my stomach. I wished I could make it stop. Wished I would heal, though I knew I never would.

Four months had gone by, it's spring break, I didn't see much difference in the days that had gone by and the days I'd have off to reflect upon life. What life? What am I talking about? My life up and left me four months ago, and all I've been doing since then was trying to keep everyone else happy. Well I can't. No one has tried to make me happy, though I know it would never work, so why should I try to content them.

I couldn't anymore. So I decided on going to see a friend of mine.

Okay, so he's not really my friend, but everyone knows who he is, and even as a perpetually high idiot he has a wonderfully sound motto. Live Life Mindlessly. Though it's through drugs, I couldn't really care less how he does it, but rather WHY he does. Because honestly, if my mind and heart would just stop coinciding, I would be a much happier person.

So I went to see Aidan. As I drove along the streets of Forks I looked back on the days I spent, happily traipsing along underneath constant cloud cover. I stopped remembering before those happy memories ended, but was lost in reverie still as I drove up to Aidan's house. His parents were gone, probably on a business trip to Cancun or something, but the lights were all on and I could imagine already Aidan and his druggie friends sitting around the bong talking about singing paint samples or something of equal fascination.

I took a deep breath and rung his doorbell, half hoping he wasn't actually home. But he was, and he opened the door with a dopey (pardon the pun) smile on his face.

"Isabella Swan," He shook his head, "I was wondering when I'd be seeing you here."

I nodded solemnly to him as I entered the door and stepped into a whole other universe. One where I didn't have to think, as much or at all, about anything, or, more specifically anyone.