Title: When the World is Dark

Chapter Rating: T

Pairing: Alice/Bella

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Stephenie Meyer.

A/N: Please excuse any flaws in this story. Because I began writing this when I was fifteen, there may be quite a few, and so you should know that this story will be undergoing severe editing.


I was engulfed by pitch darkness, kind of like what you would see at night, only lacking any source of luminosity that brought about your surroundings. It was as if I was in an endless pit, struggling against the need for air and some form of protection.

Because for some reason, it was the night that scared me. Terrified me, really, as I listened to my heart thud violently against my chest, like the beating of a drum.

And then there was me, myself, which I couldn't see nor hear, like I never existed. But I could see through my own eyes where I could be standing, and where I could be breathing.

Was I even alive?

I must have been. Wouldn't my heart have stopped beating if I weren't?

The thought immediately caused my stomach to flip, and I bent over once again to crawl into a corner. Any corner. There was just nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide. Nowhere to cover my wounded corpse and let the tears fall.

I let out a short gasp, one that instantly turned into a weeping scream. The shriek echoed into the night and into the vivid colors of the sky, where there was a glow, a radiance that illuminated the darkness.

Light.

My body, numb and frozen at that point, fell to the floor, and I stayed there for what seemed like an eternity, because forever just didn't seem like much anymore.

"Bella," a voice uttered, and a smile spread across my chapped lips. It sounded so familiar. "Bella, sweetheart. Please wake up. Please."

Wasn't I already awake? Wasn't I already lying here, awaiting death, or whatever it is you do here?

And then, suddenly, the agony began, a painful tug tearing at my chest and practically burning me alive. Bit by bit. Piece by piece. Flesh by flesh.

"She's losing a lot of blood," a voice said. It was different. Nowhere near familiar. "Her heart beat's slowing down. Someone hand me the defibrillator. She needs more oxygen."

It was a sharp pain, stabbing every part of my body as it spread throughout my chest and down my leg. I couldn't move it. It hurt. It hurt and I couldn't even find the will to scream.

I couldn't breathe now, nor could I feel my heart beating.

"Bella! Wake up! You can do it!"

"We're losing her!"

"She's going to lose consciousness." Cold hands then gripped tightly to my shoulders, easing the pain. "Clear!"

It was like electric current coursing through my veins, causing my skin to tingle and my heart to race at an impossible rate. I knew I was slipping into unconsciousness again.

I didn't want to go back, though. No. This was far worse than anything I had to endure alive. I was too scared to face the darkness, too scared that this would be the last time I would ever feel anything again.

It didn't take long until I realized I was screaming, an ear piercing screech that nearly shattered reality. It was too much to bear. Too… too…

"Bella."

I opened my eyes in an instant, and blinked rapidly as the light was exposed, blinding me. My entire body was wet, the moisture building up on my face and down my aching neck. Seconds passed before I realized I was in a different room, unknown to my senses, while my hands were firmly tied around something warm and soft.

My breathing came out in gasps, loud and harsh, then slow and steady as I allowed my eyes to roam around what appeared to be a white room. Tubes hung out in every direction, and I panicked the moment I realized they were going through my body.

Where was I?

"Bella," the voice said once again, and I instantly found the owner of it.

My eyes met up with the gaze of a middle aged man. Handsome, in a way, and it would've been more obvious within his features if his face hadn't been scrunched up in concern.

I watched as he lifted his hand, and, as it was pure reflex to flinch away from his touch, his expression then melted to one of despair.

It wasn't as if I was trying to be rude. But really, how many people just wake up and greet a stranger by your side.

I stared at him, admiring the small features on his expression that led to curiosity and interest. His brown eyes matched his hair, which was short and a bit messy. Hair had grown on his upper lip as well as his jaw, and it appeared as if he hadn't slept in days.

I had stopped breathing by then, listening to both our heartbeats as mine increased within seconds, my hand trembling as it neared his face. He just seemed so familiar…

"Dad," I whispered without the slightest thought. "Dad," I repeated. "Is… I… oh my God."

He pulled me into his arms then, holding onto to me like I would slip away from his grasp at any moment and cradled me in his chest as I cried on his shoulder.

It hurt to touch him. Physically, I should say, as the tubes began peeling off the surface of my skin, causing an annoying sting that added to the agony everywhere else.

But I didn't care. Just the feeling of having warm arms wrapped around my waist was enough to fill the hole. I belonged there, in my dad's arms.

"Bells, it's okay. Everything's going to be alright," he murmured into my ear, stroking my hair. "Just calm down. I- Oh God. You have no idea how happy I am. I thought I lost you."

"You didn't lose me, Dad," I muttered. "I just… can't think right now. I'm so sorry."

"Don't you dare apologize," he said. "This isn't your fault. Nothing is."

Shifting my head against his shoulder, I pretended I didn't hear him. Of course it was my fault. It usually was.

I stirred against his warm chest, tears blurring my already awful vision as I took in the sight before me. Cringing in pain, I settled myself against the bunk, my eyes drowning in the cast wrapped around my throbbing leg, chest, and soon I realized I had one around my head.

"Ow," I murmured as quietly as I could as to not worry Charlie. Psh. Like that would work.

"You okay, sport?"

A smiled formed at his old nickname for me, and I forced myself to nod despite the fact that the room was spinning.

"Dad…" I paused and took a deep breath. "What happened?"

He stared at me with an odd look in his eyes, his expression fierce and serious. It frightened me a bit to think he was angry.

"You… you don't remember, do you?"

I closed my eyes to control the dizziness and shook my head again. "Am I supposed to?"

"Bella." He paused for a moment, making my heart beat rapidly in time with his hesitation. The way he spoke made it perfectly clear that what he was about to say was to be taken by heart. "Did… did you have trouble recognizing me when you woke up?"

My eyes snapped open. A feeling of panic washed over me, which was then followed by a churning in my stomach that made me think of butterflies.

"Yes," was all I could say.

He sighed, clenching the bridge of his nose with his fingertips. "I thought so."

"Dad, what's going on?" I sat up from my uncomfortable position. It hurt to do so. "Why am I here?"

"Shh... You'll hurt yourself if you move too much."

"I'm already hurting like hell," I groaned. "What do I have? A broken leg?"

"That," and he hesitated again. "And a few other things."

I nodded understandingly, having no desire whatsoever to know what those other things were.

"You didn't answer my question," I added.

"Bells, I don't know how to say this."

"Then just say it," I urged him. "Don't worry about scaring me. I know I did something stupid, but I can handle it."

"Stupid is one word to describe it," he muttered softly. Licking his lips, he continued. "Others could be extreme, dangerous, absolutely brainless…"

"Dad."

He sighed, loosening his grip on my arm to run a hand through his greasy hair. "You jumped off a cliff, Bells."

My breath hitched as he said this. It was so quick and to the point and… his eyes smoldered in so many emotions, sorrow the most evident one. It was… unbelievable. Just the thought of tripping over the stairs was terrifying enough. With my luck, I could easily fall into a coma.

But a cliff?

Hundreds of feet in the air with nothing but violent waters, or worse, hard, cold ground? This had to have been a nightmare. Why the hell wasn't I dead?

"W-why?" I stuttered nervously, growing increasingly terrified. I knew this wasn't the bad news. "I'm in the hospital, then? Why am I still alive?"

"It's a miracle. I know," he replied, disbelievingly. "Just… when I heard what happened, I ran straight to the hospital. You have no idea-" he paused, his voice cracked. "I don't know what I would've done if Jake hadn't saved you."

"Jake?" I stood up straighter at the mention of his name, my mind creating images, blurry representations of a tall boy, lean and muscular. My heart swelled, though I couldn't exactly make out his face.

"Do you know who Jake is?"

I nodded, still smiling. "Of course. He's-" And then I abruptly stopped, realization finally sinking in. I could tell him who he was. I could tell him how we met. What I couldn't tell him was what he looked like, or how he spoke, or how he acted, smelled, walked, practically everything.

He was just a figment of my imagination now, shoved into the very back of my confused mind, left over for me to fill in the most important details of someone who meant everything to me.

So what did this mean? Obviously there had to be some consequences of doing something absolutely stupid and deadly and live to tell the tale. I couldn't even remember jumping off a cliff, for Christ's sakes!

"There's something wrong with me," I whispered, more to myself than to Charlie. "There's more to this than just a broken leg and a headache, isn't there?" I looked at him, my father, Charlie, who I've known my entire life and I couldn't even recognize immediately. "…Dad?"

He nodded weakly, and grabbed something from the desk beside me. It looked like a photo, perfectly cut to fit in the heart-shaped frame. He held it out to me, and I could clearly make out the image of a young woman holding a child near some rose bushes.

"Do you remember this? That's you, and the woman there is your mother."

I held it in my hands, which began to tremble uncontrollably. Yes. I remembered, but barely. I could see myself as a young girl, helping my mother pick out flowers in her garden, reading to me and holding onto her as I cried in the night.

She was beautiful, stunningly so, and I felt a hint of pride to know I was related to her. I placed my fingers upon her face, trailing the tips down her bright dress and back up to the smile she held on her face.

"What's her name?"

"Renee."

Tears began shedding the moment I put the photo down, allowing Charlie to take it from me. She, like Jake, was a distant memory, and it hurt so much more.

My own mother.

"They said you were in a coma," Charlie began in a soft voice, snapping from my trance. "It… was terrifying, because the possibility of you waking up was slim to none."

I nodded, unable to think or break his words down so they'd make sense.

"How long?"

"About three days," he replied. "Which is much shorter than I expected." He then placed a gentle hand upon my cheek. "But still too long."

Without thinking, I pulled away from his touch with a glare.

"What else did the doctors say?" I asked, taking a deep breath. The pain was apparent in my tone. I already had a feeling, a clue of what he was about to say.

He shifted from his position on the chair to sit beside me, and I reluctantly made room for him, the anger never subsiding.

"That… if you ever did wake up," he began, taking his gaze toward the closed window across the room. I followed his gaze, having the sudden urge to crawl out of this hell hole and hide for the rest of eternity.

"You wouldn't remember much," he finished.

And those words instantly changed in my mind to "you would lose all your memories." I closed my eyes, tightly, and held in the desperate need to scream into the silence, to thrash and writhe until I fell asleep, permanently.

It didn't do much.

Within a split second, I held a pillow to my face and screamed, ignoring the throbs my head caused, or the burning occurring in my leg as I shook off the wire that supported it.

"Aaaaauuuuugggggggg!" I moaned through the taste of my tears.

I fought against him for control until he held me tight, pulling my arms apart and stealing my only way of comfort.

"Bella, calm down!" he yelled as I continued to struggle against his restraint. "What's the matter with you?"

I stopped kicking and screaming to seethe at him. "What's wrong with me?" I practically growled through clenched teeth. "Isn't it obvious?"

He sighed, lifting his hand to cover his eyes. "Bella, listen. I didn't mean it-"

"No," I interrupted, carefully sliding off to the edge of the bed. "No," I repeated. "You listen."

"Bells-"

"Don't you care at all? Don't you? I-I mean, I sit here after supposedly a near death experience, and right after a coma, I find out all my fucking memories are gone!"

"It isn't for long," he said, desperately trying to reposition me onto the bed. "They said you'll start remembering and recognizing faces over time."

"Does it even matter?" I settled myself against my lumpy pillow again, too weak to move, or speak for that matter. And I tried. I tried so hard to get a good grip on any image that appeared in my mind, or any event that took place in my life. But it was all too vague. Every person I have ever met, every place I've ever visited… they were nothing to me. It was as if I was a completely different person.

"I can't remember anything," I stated, my voice lower now, tiny and frail. "I don't know who my own mother is, I can't remember who my best friends are. Hell, did I even have a boyfriend?"

I sensed Charlie's immediate unease as I said this, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. I eyed him with tear stained eyes.

"Charlie," I began. "Why did I do it?"

"Bells, all of this talking is doing you harm," he declared. "You need your rest."

"No. I don't." I shook my head, pulling his hand away from the button beside my bed. "I need to know. The way you reacted when I said 'boyfriend' tells me this has something to do with him."

His muscles tensed up beneath my grip. "This has nothing to do with him," he growled.

"Then why won't you tell me?"

"Because," he spat out, pulling away. "This has everything to do with him."

"But I thought you said-"

"I know what I said!" he shouted, standing up from his seat and making his way to the window. "But don't you see, Bella? I'm trying to protect you. There's no reason for you to know about him. He's gone now. He always was."

I wanted more than anything to just follow him and push him against the wall so he would listen. But before I could, a soft knock was heard from the doorway, followed by the arrival of what appeared to be a nurse.

She was short and stubby, but had a sort of exotic beauty added to her facial features. Her blond hair that could have cascaded down her back was held in a tight bun, matching the uniform she wore in a way. Her smile was timid and sweet, though it disappeared as soon as she laid eyes on me.

"My dear," she uttered in a sweet, feminine voice. She must've been Scottish. "Y-you're awake," she said, purely out of shock, and paused to look at the clipboard she carried. "I'll call the doctor."

"Hold up," Charlie called. "Does she have any visitors?"

The nurse nodded. "Why, yes. I came to inform you that your wife called, and she isn't able to arrive yet. The storm in Phoenix has gotten worse."

I raised my head up at the word 'wife,' causing a moment of sheer happiness to overcome my anger. My mother was coming. The woman who's taken care of me since birth… I was going to see her.

"But… we have visitors?" Charlie asked, puzzled.

The woman nodded. "A family by the name of…" She flipped a page of her clipboard, eyes wandering through names, I'm sure. "Well, they aren't available during visiting hours, but we are able to make an exception. Cullen. One of the family members by the name of Cullen claims to know Miss. Swan."

Cullen.

I pulled my sheets over me as I slid back into bed, wondering, with eyes closed, whether or not I could remember that name. It was a common name, I might add, that could have been said on television or in a book. But have I known the Cullens in real life?

I thought hard, shutting my eyes even tighter to drain the light from my vision, unable to think of a single person that could fit into my description, or my mind, for that matter.

I failed to notice Charlie's frustration building up.

"No. Tell them she doesn't want to see them."

I open my eyes immediately. "I want to see them," I told the nurse, ignoring Charlie's piercing glares. "Tell them to come in."

"Bella, I'm telling you that-"

"Honestly, Charlie," I emphasized his name, regretting it the moment I watched his face fall. "It's my own decision."

"I'm trying to protect you."

"I don't need protection," I declared, tilting my head back so I could sit up straight. "And I don't want it, either."

"Sir, if this is a bad time-" The nurse began.

"No, it's not a bad time," I interrupted softly. "Please. Let them in."

"It's only one member," the nurse nervously stated. "She never stated her full name, but she claims her family is out of town. She wants to see if you're all right before contacting them."

"Of course."

The woman nodded once, eyeing both my father and I for any other specific directions before heading out the door.

And I sat there, undisturbed for merely a brief moment, feeling this sudden… longing to see the people I once knew in what seemed like a past life to me. Just the fact that it was a family, not just a friend or siblings of that friend, but a real family caused my heart to swell up in a way that not even Charlie could ruin.

Or so I thought.

"Bella, just listen to me, will you?" He grabbed my hand in his, the hurt on his face clear and certain. "Nothing good is going to come out of this… this reunion. He left you, Bells. He left you in the middle of the forest to cry, and you haven't heard of him or the rest of the Cullens since then, which was months ago."

As he said this, I instantly felt the guilt dominate my emotions. What was he implying? That they were my enemies? And who was 'he'?

"What are you talking about, Dad?"

He sighed. "I didn't want this to happen. I thought this could be a way to start over, and you could live your life like you never met him."

I remained silent, hundreds of questions roaming through my head at the same time, the most common one being who he was talking about.

"You were always a magnet for danger, Bells. Hopefully you still know that." He chuckled, though the humor never reached his eyes. "You fell in love with this boy, the youngest of the Cullens."

I gripped my sheets tighter than necessary.

"Please don't misunderstand. The Cullens were… are wonderful people. I knew his father, and I was very fond of his sister," he continued. "It was just… him I disliked, and it wasn't because he had stolen my little girl.

"I couldn't stop who you wanted to be with. What kind of Dad would I be if I didn't let you see him?" He ran a hand through his hair. "I finally knew what a true monster he was when I found you on the forest ground, and you continued to say his name, saying he left, and you never knew why.

"Ever since then, you've never been the same. You were always miserable, lifeless. I just couldn't stand it… stand the thought that this one boy did this to you."

I listened to him intently, grabbing onto as many words as I possibly could and translating them into a language I could understand. But that still proved to be more difficult than I thought. I was in… love? I had a boyfriend who loved me back, and he just left?

"What was his name?" I choked out, flinching as the pain tore through my chest.

"Edward," he murmured, watching the doorway. "Edward Cullen."

Just as he said it, the door opened, and we were greeted by a middle aged man in a doctor's outfit. He was tall, lanky, and bald, though he appeared to be kind just by smile he held on his lips when he caught my eye.

"Good evening, Mr. Swan. My name is Dr. Scott, and I'll be substituting Dr. Nicolas for the remainder of Isabella's stay here," the doctor said, shaking hands with Charlie.

"Nice to meet you," Charlie said. "Will you…"

"Yes, I'll be checking Isabella to see if she has any health issues, or if surgery is required for any reason. She should be ready to go in no time," he replied, though hesitantly. "We may have talked to you about the side effects of her recovery…"

They were whispering now, causing me to grow angry at their secrecy. I was right there and they didn't have the nerve to talk about me so I could hear?

"Yes, um…" Charlie spoke, bringing his hand up to scratch his neck, all the while glancing back toward me. "You're probably right about that, Doctor. She's…"

"She's suffering from memory loss," the doctor finished, with no difficulty whatsoever. "I understand. We may have to perform another Neuropsychological test on her to check for other brain damages. It's possible she could be suffering from other symptoms that could vary. Please. If you could excuse us…"

"Yes, yes. Of course," Charlie added, stepping aside, and he turned to me. "Bells, you'll be okay. The doctor's just going to check to see if you're alright."

I nodded in response, calling out to him before he could leave.

"Dad!"

He turned.

"Tell the nurse I don't want any visitors," I declared, almost as if it were forced out. "I don't want to see anyone until I leave this place."

He smiled at me, proudly. "Will do, sport."

And I watched as he left, turning on his heel and leaving me with the weird man that wouldn't stop smiling.

He was my father, wasn't he? And I wanted him to be happy… right?

I just couldn't understand why it felt like I had made the wrong decision.