Edward lying on the bed, curled up in a ball, under the duvet, sobbing and screaming past the doors, nothing holds him together, no more, the glue has been removed and now there are only shambles left of him. Bella gone, he is still here, why, why can't it be all gone, just her here with him, Cullens sitting around the bed, grimacing at the sight of that face, as it's so tortured and shouting pain. She should be here, this is not right, it's ruining him and his unbeating heart, no, there's no Edward to be saved, when he is already lost. He is here, just his pained body, eyes are hollow, but so sad, no, it's not sorrow anymore, we're far over that, we've come to the absolute point of nothingness and deserted depression there there is no way escaping. But he cannot die, he can't move, he suffers silently now, he doesn't want to hurt the others like that, but they see it still and the way he is, hurts too much and they have to leave. Him left behind like he already is. He finds strange satisfaction from it, not happiness, now he knows they won't hurt for much long, and how much he has mourn over Bella will make some honor to her once existence. But he will never do enough, or so he thoughts, and so he will die with no help, because there is no need, no deed, he is already dead. There is nothing from him no more. Faded to no knows. As there is no Bella, and there is no Edward, and there it is: It's all gone. Like ash in the air. As it should have been, long ago, when they never met.