A/N: I think it'll be interesting to see the feedback from this piece. As mentioned, it's a bit OOC, maybe even a AU, but only borderline so. I got the inspiration for this while reading New Moon yesterday and wishing that Bella might have responded differently to Edward when he broke up with her.

Let me state that I am not a fan of Twilight, for a lot of reasons that I won't get into now. I've always sort of held the series in disdain, but I didn't think it completely fair to do so until I had read all the books to completion. So far, nothing that has happened has changed my mind in the least bit, but I've got a ways to go. Like I said, I didn't write this with the intent of satisfying Twilight fans or Team Edward folks, so if you think you'd be offended by anything that opposes your opinion on this subject, I suggest you not read any further. However, for those of you seeking, perhaps, a different stance on this novel and its characters, then you might enjoy this. Either way, I don't mean to offend. I simply wanted to offer an alternative look at Meyer's story.

Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer's.

"Promise me you won't do anything reckless or stupid."

The numbness that had formerly overwhelmed me and prevented me from giving any straight, logical feedback, was replaced by sudden indignation.

"Excuse me?"

A part of me had been so taken back by horrified disbelief that I was unable to fully process what he had been saying until now. I was still just as shocked, but the grief that was beginning to grow on me like a malignant tumor was replaced by a just as severe personal offense. I didn't want to believe that Edward Cullen had the gall to talk to me that way, especially after informing me that any feelings I had towards him, any impression I must have had about his feelings towards me were all the delusions of an idiot.

"Promise me, Bella," he reiterated, still as impassive as ever. "Just promise me."

I struggled to push the words past my seething frustration.

"What could I possibly do now that would be any more reckless or stupid than getting involved with you in the first place?"

I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to hurt him like he was hurting me. I wanted to see some form of emotion on his glacial, unmoving stone face.

He stared at me for a moment with an expression that was difficult to read. I was just satisfied to be seeing an expression at all. He opened his mouth as if he was going to say something else, but I quickly cut him off.

"And anyway, what the hell do you care? You're leaving, remember? I'm not good enough for you, remember?"

At this point, I was fighting back a lot of urges. I wanted to cry, I wanted to scream, I wanted throw him on the ground and beat bruises into his perfect face-despite knowing too well this wasn't physically possible-, I wanted to tell him to get the hell out and quit fucking with my life. I knew sooner or later I'd have to exercise one. It was all I could do to hold them all in.

He seemed perturbed by something of his own accord. He was looking off into the distance, away from me, probably wondering, I guessed, when I would just shut up and let him leave peacefully. I was more than happy to oblige.

"Just get out," I said finally, unable to withstand his indifference, his silence.

He made eye contact with me for a moment, his face still just as illegible as before.

"Didn't you hear me?" I demanded, allowing my voice to rise. "Get Out. Just go."

He was still lingering, rubbing his fingertips against his palm with annoying, abrasive swiping sounds to accompany the gesture.

"Well, I can promise you this," he began. "You won't see me or my family ever again. We won't ever come back to haunt you."

I grit my teeth in forced passive-aggression and wiped the tears that had now spilled out over my eyelids from my cheek with the back of my mitten.

"Yeah, okay, I wasn't really worried about that, Edward."

"You'll forget me, Bella," he mentioned with an odd, further infuriating tone of encouragement and reassurance. "The human mind is like a sieve. Time can heal all wounds."

I began to rip off my now damp, and otherwise ineffective against the cold, wool mittens.

"Don't fucking patronize me," I ordered rather than requested. "I don't need your sympathy."

He nodded, exhaling audibly through his nose. He gradually rose from his lean against the tree and stood as if preparing to leave. I was trying so hard not to look him in the eye.

"Goodbye, Bella."

I didn't respond in words. I shifted my backpack on to my shoulders and pushed past him as I began my walk down the path back to my house. As soon as he was behind me I knew that he was gone. I could have looked back over my shoulder to see that he wasn't there, but I was too upset to do anything but keep a steady stride.

Inside, my heart hurt. My stomach churned. The cold, moist northwest wind was sobering, but it didn't cure my nausea from suppressing so much within, or the tears that still gushed from my ducts like broken, overflowing dams. I was sad, I was angry, I was disappointed. I had really gotten attached to Edward, to his family, to the idea that perhaps, one day, we would find a way to be together forever, cohesively.

But as I got closer to the house I began to hear the voice of reason, if only for a moment. Deep down, somewhere that I had never before cared to recognize, I knew Edward and I wouldn't have worked out in the long run. I knew that our arrangement was hopeless, but I had hoped that hopelessness would have dragged on forever.

It was very much like those tag-team basketball games in gym, where we would all line up against the walls and go five-by-five to play for five minutes each. I would always, purposely, sit at the back of the line, praying that the period would end before it was my turn to play. Being with Edward was like stalling on a basketball game in gym. Maybe, I thought, fourth period would be over before I'd have to acknowledge that Edward was a vampire, I was an aging blood-bag, and that I was still unsure about switching to an immortal life from the one I had. A large part of me wanted to go to college, to start a career, to have kids, to grow old, and then, eventually, to die. Edward wouldn't be able to do that with me. Edward would be forever seventeen, forever wanting to suck me dry.

It hurt so bad to think of matters this candidly, but I had always known the truth. There was no point lying to myself now. Edward had decided that the absolute safety of his family was more important than our relationship, and I couldn't blame him for that. It wasn't going to stop me from bawling into my pillow when I got up to my room, or from calling my mom later to cathartically vent, but I still understood him now, perhaps better than I did a few minutes ago.

The truth of it was, I would heal. I would survive. I'd mourn Edward for a month or two. I'd cry myself to sleep for a number of nights. I'd lose my appetite and probably a few pounds. I'd be even more standoffish to my father than usual. But eventually, I'd find the strength to let him go. I'd be able to forgive both him and myself for being so foolish.

And the knowledge of that was liberating.