"Edward?" A soft voice found its way to me. There was a light knocking on my bedroom door.

I rolled out of bed and trudged across the cool wooden floor. The boards creaked softly beneath my feet as I made my way to my visitor. I unlocked the bedroom door and swung it open to reveal my mother in her pink bathrobe.

"Hi mom.." I said groggily.

"Are you okay, baby? I heard you talking in your sleep again last night." She brushed my cheek with her hand as a frown crossed her face. "I heard you tossing around this morning too. Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm fine mom; you know I never sleep much."

"Yes, but it seems like you've been sleeping less and less lately. You need your rest! It's unhealthy for a boy of 17 to be sleeping so little." Her face was filled with concern. It was the only look my parents ever had when I was around. There was a large part of me that longed to be happy go lucky, that longed to be "normal," just so everyone would stop asking me what was wrong. Its not that I was miserable, it's just that I wasn't an extrovert like everyone else in the family. I was like a black sheep in a family of wolves. That's what the rest of them were, predators. They were intriguing, enticing, interesting, and the fact that they were all good looking sealed the deal. If any of my other family members walked into a room, everybody would pay attention. When I walked into a room nobody noticed. Hell, even my dad had the nurses at the hospital swooning. I wish I could make women swoon. Okay, maybe not women, but one woman in particular.

"Maybe we should take you to the doctor." She smiled weakly. She turned to go downstairs and motioned me to follow her.

"No mom, no more pills. The xanax is enough." I called quietly after her.

"But Edward.."

"No mom," I interrupted her. I knew what was going to come next. She would start with her usual rant. It would start with her talking about how concerned the whole family was about me, and would always end with her asking me why I didn't go out more, and why I didn't have any friends. The latter part wasn't even true. So maybe I didn't have a huge group of friends, but I had one friend, my best friend. Jasper and I had been inseparable since we were in diapers. Our mothers had even been friends during their pregnancies, so I guess you could say we we've been friends since the womb.

"Please, just let me be, mom. Maybe it's just over stimulation. I'll stop reading and playing video games before bed, that might help."

She frowned at me again, but sighed in defeat. She knew there was no arguing with me.

"You want coffee?" she asked.

I laughed. "You're worried because I can't sleep and now you're trying to caffeinate me?"

"Oh. Right" She shook her head and joined me in laughing.

I prowled around the kitchen until I found something to my liking. I sat down at the table and helped myself to an overly large bowl of cinnamon toast crunch.

It was just after 7 a.m., and the house was still quiet aside from the two of us in the kitchen. I stared out the windows as I ate. The trees had begun to sprout buds; spring was inching closer and closer. The sky had turned a light gray and it looked like it was going to be another lovely, overcast day in Forks.

I was lost in thought when I felt my mom nudge me.

"Where were you just then sunny boy?"

"Just daydreaming I guess." I slumped back in my chair and fiddled with my cereal.

"I'm going to the gym and then to the grocery store. Do you have any requests?"

I thought for a few moments.

"Can you get me some cranberry splash sierra mist if they still have it?" I shook the box of cereal, "Oh and some more cinnamon toast crunch."

"Of course." She kissed me lightly on the head and disappeared out of the kitchen.

I stared down at my bowl and swirled my spoon in the milk, creating and destroying patterns of cinnamon and sugar.

I had no plans for the day. But I knew that I needed to get out of the house, or else I would be crawling out of my own skin. Sundays were always like that. There was no cheerleading practice, which meant I couldn't get my fix, it made me anxious.

I hated that this was what my life had come to. I spent each day of school hoping for a glimpse of her in the hall. At the same time I would be wishing that the day would end, so I could have those few fleeting moments in the backseat. To anyone else the short ride would be an insignificant amount of time, but for those few minutes I felt like I had her all to myself.

God, what hell was wrong with me? Wasn't it usually the girl that sat around pining away for the man of her dreams? Doodling the initials of her and her beloved all over her notebooks and trapper keepers? I shouldn't be sitting here dreaming of the object of my affection, dreaming of holding her, miserable because I wasn't. I was a man, I was nearly 18. I should be out, sowing my wild oats or some shit. I'm sure if I were desperate I could find some random girl who would have me. But really, that's not what I wanted. I wasn't that type of guy.

"I'm sensitive." I sneered softly to myself. That's what my therapist had said. I was over emotional, and things effected me more than they would most people. This lead to the anxiety, which in turn lead to the xanax. I decided that I would give Jazz a call in a few hours to see what he was up to. I'm sure he would be able to figure out something to keep me occupied. Jazz actually had a car of his own, so we often would drive to random places, we would get lost in Washington.

I took a shower and got dressed quickly, hoping to avoid any interactions with Emmett and Rosalie. Emmett and I got along, but if there was anybody who made me feel like shit it was definitely Rose. She had confronted me one day, after a car ride home. She had noticed me staring at Bella in the reflection of her compact mirror. She laid into me, saying that I would never be good enough, that I was a loser, a nerd. She told me that Bella would never go for a guy like me, even if I was the last man on earth. But I knew she was wrong. Bella wasn't like Rose; she was friends with almost everyone at school. Of course I never had the guts to talk to her, or even go near her other then when we were in the car. But her eyes were kind and her voice was soft and warm. Yes she was a cheerleader, and she had even been homecoming queen, she was one of the all mighty. But I had seen a glimpse of the substance now and then; when her brown eyes caught my own green ones staring at her. They had depth, and I swore that she did too. If only I could have the chance to prove it.

I set out on the walk to Jazz's house without calling him. I was well aware that he would probably still be asleep, but I could hang in his room and watch television while he slept. It wouldn't be the first time. There were days when my own home felt alien to me. Some days it was just to clean and perfect. I felt more myself at Jazz's. His family was loud and crazy, and any time they ragged on each it was in jest, for fun. I stared at the ground as I walked, kicking pebbles along the way. I was halfway to Jazz's house when I heard a scream. It was a woman's cry, and it sounded pained. Not thinking I ran in the direction of the sound, and two blocks from my destination I found her. She was sprawled on ground, her pale skin glowing against the black pavement. The front tire on her bicycle was still spinning, and there were tears in her eyes. Her mouth hung open in disbelief as she stared at the ground. Her face and arms were scratched up, both her knees were bleeding.

"Bella?" I asked gently, "Are you okay?" In my mind I smacked myself in the forehead. Of course she wasn't okay. There was no response at first.

"Bella?" I asked again. The "l's" in her name rolled of my tongue, but the "a" got caught in my throat. I knelt down beside her and gingerly touched her shoulder. My heart skipped a beat, my insides were exploding, but I ached at the sight of her in pain. She held out her shaking hands to me, they were bloodied and covered in debris from the street.

"You look like you took a pretty bad spill." I said softly, "lets get you cleaned up." I moved her bike to the sidewalk and leaned down.

"Can I pick you up?"

She nodded.

I hesitated, my own hands now shaking, but then scooped her up into my arms and held her close. She was so small and fragile in my arms. I had the strongest urge to protect her, to keep her safe, the feeling was fierce. I hated the bicycle, the road, whatever had caused her to fall, to be in pain. I stared down at her face, despite the blood her scent was intoxicating. It took everything in me to not go weak in the knees.

She leaned her head against my chest and my heart immediately sputtered.

"I'm going to take you to my house, my dad is home, he'll take a look at you."

She clung to me gingerly, her hands obviously hurting.

"Thank you, Edward," she whispered.

And my heart melted.