I left for work after Mike had already left. I risked being late for work just to be alone for a few minutes.

I worked at a law firm as a secretary. It was a boring, generic job, but it didn't really matter. I hadn't gone to college with a specific job in mind, so I didn't have a good degree.

My stomach rumbled uncomfortably, and I realized that I had only eaten one bite of my breakfast. Six years of missing meals and losing track of time. It didn't matter, really, except in theory. I tried to act like a normal person, to protect the other people in my life. That was really the only reason I was still breathing.

I suddenly realized that there were no other people in my life. Of course, people I knew surrounded me, but I was completely and utterly alone. Alone with my pain, alone with my life. No one could help me.

Besides, help was not what I needed. I needed a reason to live. I needed to get a life. I was a walking, talking corpse. I had absolutely no life, none at all. On the outside, I would look like a normal human being. But on the inside, where no one could see the real me, I was a zombie. I had no reason to live. Without a reason to live, I had no incentive to keep myself alive.

I realized that the reason I missed meals so much was that my subconscious was trying to kill my body, just to get away from the pain. I couldn't let that happen. I would hurt the people around me, my family and friends, if I were to die. Even though I knew I wasn't supposed to be alive, I had to keep going. They couldn't be hurt. But I knew I would hurt them, eventually.

I couldn't keep living like this. There had to be relief. There must be some way to ease my pain. Somehow, I knew that the only way to ease my pain would be to hurt the people I loved. I wasn't sure what would happen in the process, but I would eventually hurt them. There was nothing I could do about it.

I arrived at work just as I came to my painful conclusion. The day passed slowly, but I was in a daze. I was too afraid of myself to pay much attention to the things going on around me. I did answer a few phone calls, and I concentrated enough to answer a few questions, but otherwise, I was completely out of it.

I was thinking, more about what I had brought on Mike and my family. There had to be some way to get away from them, to protect them from my deadliness. I had to cut myself off from my life. I had to get away. A clean break. I could leave, just disappear off the face of the earth, but I would still be tied to Mike through marriage. An option came into my mind, but I warded it off. I didn't want to do the obvious. It seemed like a crime.

Divorce. I had never really loved him, but I did want him to be happy. I knew that divorcing Mike would do just the opposite. It would hurt him and make him unhappy. But which was worse? Divorcing Mike, letting him be hurt for a short time? Or staying with him, and letting him be permanently damaged when my life expired unnaturally? Because I knew I would die an untimely death. People weren't meant to survive such agony.

I decided, reluctantly, that option two would be worse. It was obvious, and I couldn't ignore the unassailable facts. I would have to divorce Mike. It would hurt me, to see him hurt, but that pain couldn't be any worse than the pain I had to endure every day.

And how convenient. I worked at a law firm. Too convenient. It was like fate had guided me to this place, knowing what would happen in the future.

My decision was made, and suddenly I felt so much better. It had always been like that for me, though. I had trouble making decisions, but once they were made, I stuck by them. Besides, common sense would keep me bound in this agreement with myself. I couldn't bow out of this obligation. It was unthinkable and cruel to do anything else. No matter how backward it sounded, I knew it was true.

I drove home after work with a lighter heart. The familiar pain had subsided just a bit, enough for me to be confident with myself for a time. I still felt the weight of the agony I was suppressing on my shoulders, but it was bearable.

I cooked a simple dinner for Mike. I wasn't sure how to act around him, now that I knew I would be divorcing him soon. But when he got home, I found it was surprisingly easy to eat and talk and laugh with Mike, as if we were best friends rather than husband and wife.

The pain returned the minute I laid my head on my pillow, but without the usual crippling force. It was merely a throbbing in my chest, an aching in my head. I actually fell asleep a few minutes after Mike did. It was the first time I hadn't gone out to sit on the couch in about . . . well, six years. And Mike wondered why the circles under my eyes seemed permanently etched in my skin.

Under my eyelids, I met my truest of true loves again. He was every bit as beautiful as an archangel, every bit as lovely and perfect as I remembered him. I heard his sweet, velvety voice once again, and it calmed me.

I had always been grateful for my dreams. The provided a sense of temporary relief from pain, and they allowed me to relive the best days of my life. I hoped that I never dreamed of anything but Edward Cullen.