* All original twilight characters belong to S. Meyer. Any original characters are my own.
* Rated M for mature content – self harm, suicide attempts, possible smut later on.
I can't move, I can't open my eyes, I can't even hear the music anymore. I don't care, I'm finally sleeping.
"Bella?" I hear the soft voice calling my name and I try to pull myself out of the fog that I feel surrounding me. I must have finally fallen asleep which, when the knowledge hits causes a great sense of relief which combined with the heaviness makes me stop fighting the fog and allow it to settle down around me again.
I drift back and forth between deep heavy sleep and barely conscious several times. Sometimes the soft voice would be in the room with me, gently calling my name, trying to coax me out of sleep, sometimes it was silent aside from the incessant beeping from somewhere surrounding me.
Finally I feel the heaviness begin to actually lift off of me and I think about getting up. Charlie's probably already at work but there were still things to do around the house. After procrastinating for several minutes I decide that it's time to get up and blink my eyes rapidly, instantly confused by my surroundings.
I'm not in my room.
I struggle against the dizziness and sit up quickly, taking in my surroundings as I feel the pull in the back of my left hand. I look down and groan when I see the iv that has been inserted into my hand, my throat is aching and I know instantly where I am.
The walls of the room were probably cream colored even though I couldn't be sure because of he darkness, there was a single square window on the wall behind me, bars across the opening to prevent any 'accidents'. I looked up at the ceiling and saw the small round camera in the corner that would no doubt be recording my every move in this room. I continued to look around, a small hospital side table sat beside the bed, nothing on it, nothing in it. I looked towards the door of the private room and saw that it was closed but not locked, a white cloth hung in the latch preventing me from being contained.
My throat was aching and hoarse and the rest of my body didn't feel so great either. I tried to remember what had brought me back to the hospital's Psychiatric ward and as I did the memories seemed to flood me all at once.
"Shit. What the Hell was I thinking?" I groaned and slapped my palm to my face. I knew what they thought I had tried to do, I knew what that meant for me now.
As I sat in the bed listening to the silence of the ward I blasted myself with thoughts of self-hatred, noting the irony of what had happened. I was going to kill myself, but not like this... the pills... I just wanted to sleep.
I shifted slightly and felt the pain of my overly full bladder. Sighing I grabbed the pillow from behind me and used it to put pressure on my hand as I gently lifted the tape holding my iv in place and quickly jerked the needle out of my skin. There was a small splattering of blood and I counted to thirty before I removed the pressure and sighed in relief that the bleeding had stopped. Slowly I swung my feet over the side of the bed and stood up, steading myself against the wall before taking my first tentative step towards the door.
I opened the door and looked around, not shocked at the confirmation of where I was. I had been here once before, just after coming out of my catatonic state I had admitted myself, not sure what else to do. Now here I was again after what I'm sure will be deemed a suicide attempt. This time I was in the end room, right next to the case room where the crisis workers and Psychiatrists would come to talk to me. In front of me was the common area and I glanced down the row of tables, spotting only one other patient out of bed at this hour. She looked to be about my age and was sitting silently at a table playing a game of solitaire. I turned to the right and passed two more patient rooms with doors closed before I got to the bathroom. I turned the handle and let myself in, using the steel toilet to empty my bladder. When I was finished I tried to look at myself in the filthy mirror but couldn't see very much.
I sighed and made my way out of the washroom and across the common area to the enclosed nurses station where I waited patiently at the window until the nurse on duty looked up at me.
"What can I do for you Isabella?" she asked warmly and I smiled at her.
"I'm incredibly thirsty. Can I get some water?" I asked hoarsely and she stood up, disappearing and returning a moment later with a large Styrofoam cup filled with ice water.
"Thank you." I said as I took the cup and chugged the water down. My throat still burned but I felt much better once I had drank it all.
"If you want to go sit down at one of the tables Isabella, I'll call the crisis worker in to talk to you." she smiled at me and I walked to the table next to the girl playing Solitaire, sitting down and tapping my fingers nervously as I stared at the locked door that kept us all secure in this unit.
"I'm Keira." the girl said without looking up from her cards. The last thing that I wanted was to talk to other patients right now but I also didn't want to be rude to her.
"Bella." I replied and she paused her game to look up at me.
"I'm being transferred to Seattle in a few hours. Apparently I'm too crazy for them to fix here." she laughed and I looked at her curiously. She didn't seem crazy.
"I believe in things that they say aren't real so they tell me I have schizophrenia and a whole list of other mental problems." she shrugged and went back to her game. I didn't reply because I knew that by that definition I would also be deemed crazy.
Thankfully a woman in jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt entered the common area and came towards my table. She looked tired and her hair was pulled into a sloppy pony-tail, her face was pale and her eyes worn. Somehow I didn't think she was going to have much patience left.
"You must be Isabella. Let's go and have a talk in the case room." she smiled but it wasn't warm as I stood up and followed her back to the small room, sitting in a chair at the round table and waiting for the questioning to begin.
"Why don't you start by telling me why you are here Isabella?" she didn't really look at me as she opened up her folder and began taking notes.
"I think because I took too many sleeping pills." I answered honestly.
"And why did you take too many sleeping pills?" She asked and I shrugged before answering verbally.
"It wasn't a suicide attempt. I haven't been able to sleep for months and I was just trying to sleep... I guess a part of me knew that it was dangerous to take so many but I was just so tired." I answered as honestly as I could, knowing that lying would get me nowhere.
"Isabella, are you going to honestly sit there and tell me it wasn't a suicide attempt? The report I have here says that you took somewhere around sixty pills in one night. That doesn't exactly sound like an accident." she looked down her glasses at me and I shrank back in my chair.
"I had been thinking of suicide earlier in the night, but I was thinking of slitting my wrists not over-dosing. I changed my mind and decided to try the new pills Dr. Hatley had prescribed instead. After the first two didn't seem to make a difference I took two more and then two more, and by then my mind is fuzzy, I remember the pills spilling, I remember taking a handful, I don't know what I was thinking, but honestly at that point I just wanted to sleep." I was mumbling but she didn't ask me to speak up.
"Isabella, at this point you are being held for a mandatory seventy-two hour evaluation. I will pass this information on to Dr. Eves who will be in tomorrow morning to meet with you. Your father also wanted you to call him whenever you woke up no matter what time it is so if you want you can use the pay phone at the other end of the common area. Do you have any questions?" she asked and I got the feeling that despite her job she really didn't give a damn.
"What day is it?" I asked meekly as she stood up before giving me a chance to reply.
"It's Friday." she answered and I gasped in shock. The incident with the pills had been almost two days ago, I'd been unconscious the entire time.
I left the case room and returned to my own bed, climbing in and pulling the blankets around me tightly, allowing the first tears of the day to escape my eyes as I felt my sore body heave with the sobs.
"I hate you Edward Cullen." I choked out, squeezing my eyes shut and willing sleep to come back, to keep me safe.