Summary : Bella realizes there is a very big chance that saving Edward Cullen was the worst mistake of her life. There's also a very big chance that it was the best.

Warnings : Language, slight Sexual situations, Themes, Possible Abuse/Molestation

Inspirations : AngstGoddess003's Wide Awake, Segolily's Daylight, Cuppycakes's Emotions Unaccounted For.

Ownage : Only my own plot. Everything else is Stephenie Meyer's. Pity.

Pairings : Mainly EdwardBella, AU, AH

A/N: So I'm not one of those author's who freak about how many reviews they get, but I really do appreciate getting some, at least. And please, for my sanity, say something other than 'this is great keep going' or something like. I'm not being picky, I just want people to give this story a chance. Thank you :)

My dreams, ironically, were covered in green, just like life outside. I usually didn't dream - though tonight, after I finally and painfully felt in a light and tense sleep, I dreamt. I was in the woods behind my house, the canopy of trees making it immediately dark and dense. I felt my body shiver, an unexplainable fear in my stomach as I looked around the vastness of the never ending green forest. I looked around, my eyes for some reason unknown to me unable to focus on anything. It was all just green, everywhere - some light green, some dark.

My stomach flipped as my breath became ragged, my feet rooted to the spot of the forest floor. There was no wind, it was still, very still, like there was no wind or air, for that matter. But that was impossible…then, my body tensed, the forest becoming dark - to almost pitch black, as I looked around, my breath ragged, my heart beating. That's when I heard it. Large, agony filled screams - ones of torture, of fear. I looked around into the darkness, hearing the screams but not being able to see them. Then, another scream, filled with unbelievable pain sounded, a --

The blue colour of my walls filled my sight, a photograph of Arizona hanging on my wall, along with various posters and other pictures. A cold sweat was covered me, and I felt immediately gross, my breathing hard and labored. It was just a dream - or a nightmare, more like. The feeling of fear did not leave me.

I almost fell out of my bed when I heard a large, agonized scream, just like the one in my dream. Then I realize it wasn't me who dreamt of those screams, they were interrupting my dreaming of the forest. I pounced in sudden fear, the cold floors prickling my hot feet as I sprinted down the stairs, almost fall flat on my face. I ran to the living room, another scream soundly, so shrill and horrific that I cringed.

My eye sight fell on Edward, who, was not on the couch anymore. No, instead, he was lying on his face on the floor, most of the blankets uncovering his body, which was scarily skinny and pale. I moved closer to him, as droplets of sweat covered his forehead, his eyes clenched shut, his beautiful face twisted in horror. I was almost scared to approach him. He opened his mouth, like he was going to scream again, but instead, he just whimpered, like a small, sick, puppy.

The uneasiness was replaced with an instinct. I had to protect Edward from whatever was going on in his head. I kneeled by his shivering, sweaty body, his legs curling into the fetal position. I placed my cool hands on his cheeks, cupping them, as he shook his shoulders in what seemed like terror. I bit my lip, patting his cheek as softly as I could.

However, he didn't stir. He seemed trapped in his nightmare, no, not even that. He seemed trapped in his own personal hell. I bit my lip, and hit his cheek harder, trying to revive him.

"Please, Edward. Wake up. Please!" I said, holding his pained face in his hands. My stomach flipped when his eyes opened to lock with mine. It was like he was dying - maybe already dead. His eyes were glassed over, with a blank, but terrifyingly so, tense look in them, the golden colour glowing in the dark living room.

In the back of my head, I was glad Charlie was out of town at the moment.

The blankness left his eyes, replaced by throbbing torment, almost as intense as the screams emitting from his mouth. Big, large, warm tears started to leak out of his eye as I held his face in my hands, the tears hitting my skin. He shuddered, more tears escaping his eyes. He looked utterly desolate; I don't think he was strong enough to hold in the salt sea of tears emitting from him. I felt like I was going to cry myself, as I felt my brow furrow. I scooped his feeble and starved body into my arms, cradling him and pushing him to my chest as tightly as I could. He wept, silently, his shoulders shaking as he buried his face in my stomach. I looked at the living room wall, my head blank, my lips pursed in tension.

I was in pain.

Because of his pain.

It was the most completely abnormal feeling I have ever felt, but I felt it, and strongly. It seemed like an eternity before I started to pull away. However, Edward, realizing what he was doing, tugged on my waist tighter.

"No," he choked. "Don't leave me."

It was a beg, a fearful plead, followed by his own shuddering breath, the shiver of his shoulders in my cold house. I soothed him quietly, clutching the sweat shirt I had lent him as he held me tighter, like I was all he had. Thinking about it, it could very well be that I was all he had. I realized I knew not one thing about Edward Cullen.

"I won't leave you. I won't." I promised before pulling away slightly. "Come upstairs, okay?" I asked, but as soon as the words left me, I regretted it. Again, I didn't know Edward Cullen, and I had just invited him to sleep in my bed with me. I sighed as he mumbled quietly, but my discontentedness was overthrown by the need to protect him. I stood up and he stumbled, his body obviously weakened greatly from the small hypothermia he had.

He bit his lip as he stumbled. I could tell he hated being so pathetic, but I took each step with him as he stumbled up the stairs. I pushed open the door to my room, and he look hesitantly at my bed, but I gave him a small, tiny push towards it. He crawled towards the far side of the bed, before curling into a ball, his chin resting on his knees. I looked at the clock and inwardly groaned; it was unlikely I'd get much sleep at all. My bed was still warm as I slid in, giving Edward as much distance I could muster in the twin bed that I had. I felt him watching me with his bloodshot eyes. I turned on my side to face his, as I searched his face.

The curve of his straight, perfect nose, the pout of his pink, plush lips. The slant of his naturally thick eyebrows, the frown in his skin, the salty tracks down his high and defined cheek bones, the almond shape of his big, yellow eyes. He was incredibly gorgeous, though I spent most of my sophomore year disliking him for his ill-judged arrogance. I still felt shaken by everything tonight: I never expect to Edward Cullen in this light.

Something in his life had turned wrong, I knew. Something had gone terribly, terribly, wrong. He stared into my eyes longingly, his fingers twitching to me, and it was then I knew he wanted to touch me, feel me. I was shocked, to say the least, first by his curiosity, and second, because I had read him so well. I scooted closer to him, so that I was almost touching him, and my backside didn't hang off the edge. Hesitantly, I lifted my hand, raising it to put it on his cheek. He watched in cautiously, his eyes curious and scared, like I was going to strike him, or worse. Lightly, and as delicately as I could, I set in on his smooth cold cheek, rubbing my thumb along his cheek bone. He stared into my eyes, though they were red and desolate, almost a hollow look. He bit his lip, and I cursed myself for thinking it was adorable, because he was doing out of inevitable insecurity. His fingers drifted towards me, almost gracefully so, to my wrist, which he held tenderly. I scooted closer to him - he almost pulled me, my body flush against his, his back pressed against the wall of my bedroom.

Our noses were almost touching. I could feel his breath on my upper lip, his questionable, broken eyes boring into mine, like he was trying to read my mind. His eye lids closed half way, as he stared at me through his thick lashes. My stomach flipped. This couldn't be happening. He pulled on my wrist, squeezing it a little bit under the pillow we were now sharing. My heart beat faster, the pulse in my neck throbbing, my breath halting.

His lips were on my mine as he focused my bottom lip. I could feel his timidity, and it was a little unsettling how completely and entirely vulnerable he was. It was only a second until I started to kiss back, my breath becoming labored with intensity. My hand moved from my cheek to his hair, as I raked my fingers through it and grabbed it, as his tongue darting into my mouth with sensible expertise. My eyes closed, my heart in the moment - for once, I didn't think about what I was doing, what was going on, what was happening. For once, all I thought about was how his hip bones felt against me, the way he clutched my wrist for reassurance, rather than power.

As soon as the kiss started, though, it ended. I stared at him, breathless, completely flabbergasted as to why he did that. Until tonight, I had been completely and utterly invisible to him. Until tonight, I hadn't spared him any thought but resentment and bitterness.

Until tonight.

"Bella," he breathed.

He didn't say anything else, just stared into my eyes, the silence of my house filling up the rooms, until, Edward's eyes fluttered to a close, leaving me to think about what the hell just happened.

How dramatic :) Hmm, give this a chance? Pretty, pretty please? Review!