Hey, welcome back :) I'm pleased you all came back for more. This chapter is longer than the first, as promised, and it lets me explore a little more freely now I've introduced it. I hope you enjoy this chapter; I found it particularly fun to write, as I always do. Thanks for those of you who have reviewed as well, even though thats not many of you ;P

On with the story:


I woke up, kind of hoping that it was all a bad dream… all of it. Even now, the desperate optimism that I clung onto, praying that I'd awake with cold arms wrapped around me was crushing, because when I woke, and my bed was warm and empty, I had to suffer all over again. I had to remember it all over again.

That was when the tears came; my time alone, when no one could watch or listen to the heavy sobs that rattled my chest and sent shooting pains down my sides. Charlie heard sometimes; I knew he did. At night, when I couldn't sleep and my mind was vulnerable to memories, tears came. In the morning, I'd wake to the reality with the insomniac symptoms taking their toll,

There was a faint tap at the door, and I wiped my eyes quickly. My chest still heaved and stuttered as an aftermath of my tears.

Charlie entered, already dressed, with a solemn look on his face. My eyes darted to his hand; a large holdall was there. He held it like you'd hold a hot coal, burning and waiting to just drop it. He looked shameful, at himself or me, I didn't know. But he came in and perched himself on the end of my bed.

"Bells, you've gotta pack. We're leaving in an hour," he informed me. He thought I'd gone mad.

Resting the bag on my bed, he stood again, walking over to the curtains, drawing them; light burst into the room quickly, and my arm automatically rushed to shade my eyes from the sudden luminescence.

"Pack some pyjama's, clothes, underwear and stuff. I'll get your toiletries," he told me, hurrying out of the room as if there was a bad smell lingering under my bed.

Pyjamas…, I thought -I knew I'd be staying, but it hit me then that I wouldn't be sleeping in my own bed anymore. The bedcovers that he touched wouldn't be there, and I wouldn't be able to watch the window that he used to climb through, expecting him to suddenly appear and erase all the blackness that had shadowed my life since his departure.

Slowly but surely, just as he promised, it'd be like he never existed. I was being pulled away from the place he knew, and it ached so badly.

Being here, however, ached so badly, sitting in this room that was tinted with the hurtful memories and knowing that he'd been here… the absence. Maybe it was better to go, to leave. Or, at least, that was what I told myself as I forced myself out of the warm bed and onto the cold floor panels. I kept repeating it to myself as I threw my favourite pyjamas into the holdall, folded some jeans up, and putting in several tops and sweats in.

I packed, and then Charlie returned. My toiletry bag was in his hand, as was my toothbrush. Taking it from him, I placed it on top of my things and zipped it up.

"You said we had an hour," I stated, looking at Charlie.

"Well, you need to change," he pointed out, indicating that the clothes I'd slept in were the ones I'd worn to school yesterday. "But then I thought we could go out for breakfast or something."

His tone was apologetic and I could tell as he looked at me, full of sympathy and worry, that he wanted to do something special for me. Breakfast out was the best Charlie could do, but I appreciated it all the same.

"Sure, dad," I said, humouring him.

Selecting some clothes off the floor that I knew hadn't been worn, I took them to the bathroom. I avoided the mirror, knowing I'd look disgusting: my pale face, my bloodshot eyes, my skinny figure. Instead, I just splashed cold water against my face, enjoying the comforting cool that felt so familiar. Once, I'd hated cold. But now, I revelled in it. I felt at home in the cold.

I changed into my clothes without really washing; Charlie had packed my toiletries, and I could shower later. Hospitals had these kinds of facilities.

As I exited the bathroom, Charlie was waiting for me on my bed, tapping his leg either awkwardly or impatiently. I noticed that he'd hung some of the clothes up, turning Mt. Everest into Mt. Olympus, and he'd made the bed. It looked a bit tidier, a little less cluttered, but not by much. It wasn't as if I'd be spending much time in there anymore. I was finally leaving the suffocating walls that held me in.

"What about a book, or some CD's?" He suggested, glancing - as quick as lightening - at the pile of forgotten CD cases, and discarded old books - but I shook my head. Sighing heavily with the weight of so much trauma and regret on his shoulders, he stood reluctantly and lifted my bag before I had the chance. "Ready, kid?"

I nodded my head, looking around at the purple walls and bedcovers, and the old computer in the corner. It was amazing how quickly this place had become home, how I no longer craved the heat of Phoenix or the comforts of my mother. I knew, even then when his name was never mentioned, that he'd been a part of this comfortable ease, taking the focus off being homesick.

As I walked downstairs, my body posture limp with defeat, I silently said goodbye to my home; I didn't know when I'd be back.

"What do you want to eat, Bells?" Charlie asked, holding the menu in front of his face, but I could see his dark eyes flicker to me at every sound I made.

The lists of foods made me feel queasy: the greasy pancakes, or omelettes, or bacon and eggs. This was Charlie's kind of place, for sure, even though I'd never been here. It was a diner, the midpoint between Forks and Seattle. The journey had been completely silent, apart from Charlie's occasional muttering about speed limits and numerous careless drivers.

"Just toast," I said, folding my menu down. "And orange juice."

Charlie shot me a sad smile, and called the waitress over, ordering our food as I sat and stared at the swirled patterns of the curtains that tried to brighten up this dull place, the awful dated orange spirals that stood out against the lime green, a terrible mixture of colours.

"What you thinking about, Bells?" he asked.

I looked up, shocked; it had been a long time since he'd been so forward about this. I shrugged swiftly, not knowing what to say. My mind was blank, and I couldn't tell him that.

"They're gonna ask you stuff like that, you know?" he said, his voice gruff as his awkwardness shone through. It amazed me how well Charlie was doing… he wasn't usually good at coping with stuff like this, but he managed. He plodded along with me, offering his help.

"I know," I muttered.

"And what are you gonna tell 'em?"

I shrugged.

Charlie coughed nervously, discouraged by my lack of response. Then he started playing with his knife and fork like an immature child, making an annoying tap and clatter every time they hit the table.

"Can we go home?" I asked quietly, looking at the paper napkin in my lap. I felt Charlie's eyes bore into my head as I asked, and the pain radiated off him; I suddenly regretted asking.

"No, Bella," he said firmly, and I sighed.

I wanted to go home. Home would be better. Yesterday, I was deluded. I'd been manipulated by Charlie's persistence, his defeated posture and the idea that I could be left alone. But Charlie was right; they'd pry and probe, digging deeper, making me tell them things I simply couldn't.

When the toast came, I nibbled at the corner, and drank my juice. I ate half a slice before pushing the plate away with a small quick motion. Charlie continued digging into his bacon, sausage and eggs, as if things were normal.

Then he paid the bill, thanking the waitress and we returned to the car. I stared out the window as the silence encircled us once more, as awkward as ever as he drove me to the place I didn't want to be.

As the cruiser pulled into the parking lot and I saw the hospital, I felt my heart sink. Sighing, I begrudgingly got out of the car, although Charlie got my bag and directed me inside.

"Dr. Gerandy said he'd be here to help smooth things along," Charlie mumbled, looking around hoping to spot the old man who'd examined me when I'd been found.

"Chief Swan!"

Both Charlie and I turned around at the name to see the grey-haired man hurry forward, long strides until he reached us. I knew he wasn't a doctor here, but I was assuming he had some connections here at Seattle. I wished I could have stayed at Forks.

"Thanks, Doctor," Charlie said a genuine smile on his face.

Dr. Gerandy eyed me up and down for several moments before looking at me sympathetically. I didn't know what I looked like: scrawny and pathetic, maybe, but his stare made me shrink beneath him as his eyes buried me with a deep weight.

"Okay, Bella," he said, his tone gruff but oddly patronising, "I've spoken to the hospital staff here, and it's all sorted for you. You and your father will need to fill out some simple questions, details and such, and then you'll be seeing a psychiatrist for your assessment." He explained, and I cowered under his authority.

"Assessment for what?" I asked quietly.

"To talk to you, about your feelings and medication and such," he began again, "Now, because I've already been monitoring you, I've filled them in on things so far." His eyes wandered to the bag in Charlie's hand and he gave a short nod that told me a lot; they'd been talking to me behind my back, this had been planned for a long time now.

"Shall we do the details?" Charlie asked after a moment's silence. He handed me my bag, and Dr. Gerandy indicated for me to take a seat as they walked over to reception.

I walked over and sat down impatiently, looking around at the people walking in and out. From a distance, I watched them chatting quietly, talking to someone behind the desk as she scribbled down details, talking about me.

Then Dr. Gerandy came back over, papers in his hand. For someone who didn't work here, he seemed particularly comfortable. He told me to stand, and I followed him through some doors, around a corridor until I came to a room with 'Dr. Geller' engraved onto a golden plaque.

Dr. Gerandy knocked on the door lightly, and I was surprised to see a red haired female open the door, her cheeks flushed but her blue eyes wide, bright and welcoming.

"Hello, you must be Isabella," she smiled kindly, opening her door wider giving me space to enter.

"Bella," I corrected out of habit.

"I'll be outside, Bells." Charlie took my bag from me and watched me enter before I heard his footsteps echo back down the corridor.

"Hello, Bella, I'm Bethany Geller, and I'm just here to talk to you about general things about your stay here. Can I get you anything? A drink or something to eat, perhaps?" She moved back to her desk, offering a chair to me.

Shaking my head, I sat awkwardly, looking around. The room was lit warmly, the lights dim but bright enough. The shades of the walls were a deep red, and the cosiness of the room wanted me to curl up on the sofa in the far corner and fall asleep.

"Okay, well, basically it's my job to try and help you. I want to make you feel better, and to do that, I need to talk to you about different kinds of treatment or medication that might help." She paused, looking at me warmly as she took a pen out. "Now, I've got to write some notes down, but please don't worry. If you want to look at them at any time, please just ask."

I nodded my head, and she wrote what looked like my name on the top of the page.

"How are you feeling today, Bella?" Dr. Geller asked, putting her hands together and resting them on the desk, her pen between her fingers still.

"Okay," I lied. "I'm tired."

She bobbed her head for a few moments.

"And why are you tired, Bella? Do you have trouble sleeping?"

"Yes. I can't get to sleep at night, and when I do, I wake up early." I sighed. If only I could sleep, I'd be able to live in a fantasy world. But even my dreams were starting to haunt me, the words of him echoing as I slept, his face always there.

"Okay, maybe that's something I could help with," She said, noting something down on paper. "Now, Dr. Gerandy informed me that you've recently broken up with your boyfriend." I flinched, something she didn't ignore. "Can you tell me any more about that?"

I shook my head violently, biting my lip hard to retain the scolding pain that rippled through me.

"That's fine. That's okay, don't worry, Bella," she soothed, her face perfectly calm. I bet she dealt with deluded people like me all the time, people who deluded themselves by thinking they could be loved. "What do you like to do, Bella? Listen to music, reading, or drawing?"

Again, I shook my head. Everything was a reminder, everything was constantly reminding me what I'd lost, what I'd never have again.

"My reason for asking, Bella, is because sometimes there are different kinds of therapy: music therapy, or art therapy where people can express their emotions through their hobbies." She scribbled something else on paper, as I mumbled how I didn't listen to music anymore.

"I think that's enough for me now, Bella. I think that a therapist would most certainly help you. Also, Bella, I'm suggesting that I give you something to help you sleep, hoping that will boost your energy."

"Okay," I mumbled, "I am really tired."

"I know, honey. Okay, so what happens now, Bella, is that you'll have a physical examination which is basically just to have a look to see if there's anything physical that could be affecting your health. Then you'll be shown to your room in the adolescent unit, and given a nurse who will help you settle in. Do you have any questions for me?"

"No, thanks," I said, clearing my throat.

"It's been lovely talking to you, Bella," Dr. Geller said warmly, her smile touching her eyes. "I'll show you where to go to next," she said, directing me down the corridor to find Charlie, waiting.

He joined the parade and we followed her around until we found another doctor's room; this time, it was a bright clinically furnished room, with a small medical table and cabinets.

As he asked me questions about my health, I answered as best I could, although the questions didn't go in. Charlie sat outside again, on my request, as I was asked things like my eating habits, past injections, injuries, and any medical family history.

My wrists were checked subtly, as was the rest of my body for bruises, scratches, burns or other marks. Bruises were normal, and my records must have shown my amount of broken bones and hospital visits. I wondered whether he thought I'd been abused.

There was a brief question about whether I was sexually active or not, which I quickly dismissed with a firm 'no'.

And after that, I was taken to my room, private thanks to Dr. Gerandy.

My nurses name was Heather; she was tall, blonde, with a crooked nose and a pointed chin. She spoke calmly and quietly, as she showed me the room, attempts of colour splashed on the wall with blue curtains and a book shelf. They must have come to the conclusion that I was safe to myself.

"Is there anything I can get for you?" She asked her voice quiet low as she spoke. Her little white dress came to the knees, and she wore white tennis shoes, a name tag attached to her left breast.

"No, thanks," I dismissed, and she left me with a smile, leaving Charlie and I alone.

The silence rippled through, and I tried to shake off the feeling of insignificance and his eyes that bore into me.

"Are you okay?" he asked, sitting in the small chair beside the bed.

"Yeah," I said, just so he could have an answer. "You might as well go, Dad. It's gonna get boring here, and you need to work."

"I'm staying, Bells," he said firmly, and I rolled my eyes as he sighed heavily at my insistence. He lifted his feet up on my bed, tugging at the thin blankets on there. Everything was clean… but it was all too clean.

"Whatever, Dad," I said half-heartedly, as I curled up on the bed. My bag lay forgotten on the floor. Charlie held a rustling newspaper in his hand, and the midday light shone through the windows. It was going to be a very long day.

What amazed me most was the effectiveness of the sleeping tablets that I was given about an hour after my afternoon meal, giving me enough time to shower and change into my pyjamas.

And then I woke. The tablets seemed great; they'd gotten me off to sleep easily enough, no tears, no anxiety. But then I'd woken, screaming for him to come back to me, the image of the forest returning as I run to my eternal love. But he'd gone, and I'd screamed, waking both Charlie and myself up.

The nurses were inside in an instant; Heather from the night before was amongst the three that rushed to my side. But I gave them nothing more to worry about; it had happened before, this was a normal part of life for me now.

"Are you okay, Bella?" one asked, her black shoulder length hair framing her face.

"Yeah," I mumbled, "Bad dream." I forced a yawn, one they seemed to buy, and they left. But that didn't mean Charlie left. Somehow, he was still here, fully clothed in the same chair.

"Sure you're okay, kid?" he asked, a mixture of fatigue and worry dripping from his tongue.

I nodded my head, and wiped a bead of sweat from my forehead, breathing heavily as I came down from my shock. Turning over, I switched the light off, flicking the room into darkness.

I heard Charlie sigh, but I ignored it as I rolled over, covering my head with the itchy covers and trying to go back to the world where, although leaving, he was still present.


I feel sorry a bit for Bella; she was originally okay to go along with it, but she'd regretting it more now.

Sorry if any facts aren't quite right. I've never had any experience with this kind of thing and there's only so much that the internet can tell you :)

Oh, and remember, reviews are my birthday present XD