AN: A good amount of cursing in this chapter. Sorry. I was angsty today. If you are squeamish to blood. Don't read this chapter.

First, she glanced at Esme, who had been gone at breakfast. When she had come to group, her arms were bandaged and a guilty look was splattered across her face. The nurse had given Esme a glare before leaving, and Esme breathed a sigh of relief as soon as she was gone.

Jessica was with her councilors again. She had uttered her first word yesterday. She'd never talked here before.

Bella looked straight at me, then looked at the floor.

"I'm Bella. Bella Swan." She started, before being cut off by Marc.

"We don't usually use last names here." Marc glared at all of us. We always used our full given names. It was our right, and he couldn't stop us.

"Oh. I'm sorry." She said, blushing a deep red, and didn't carry on.

"Bella?" Marc prompted.

"Yeah, sorry. Anyway, I'm Bella. Today I feel terrible. It's my first day here, and I hate it already, but I'm excited to be getting better." She gave a fake smile. Naughty girl! They always see past fake intentions and lies. The smirk on Marc's face proved it. "I've been here for only about twelve hours. I'm here for…" she cut off before starting in a slower voice that was full of shame. "I'm here for cutting and burning, suicidal thoughts, depression, and the fact that my parents are concerned that I will commit suicide, especially when I'm pregnant with my ex boyfriend, Emmett's, baby. I'm two months pregnant. I told them my dad could keep it. He really wants the baby. I really want him to have it. They're divorced."

All of our mouths, except for Marc's, dropped. Pregnant?

She pulled her white long sleeved shirt over her hands and balled them into fists of nerves.

"I go to Saint John's academy for girls. Ironic, huh? A guy saint, for a girl's catholic academy, and five percent of the girl's there get pregnant. I'm a sophomore."

Wow. The irony did strike me. Even my public high school didn't have more than two percent of our girls getting pregnant. Even though I was an "emo" outcast, I still knew the information. I always wore black and red, but that's not what defined me. It was the scars I never attempted to hide that splattered and tore across my arms.

"Anything else Bella?" Marc prompted again, eyes slightly slit, meaning that he knew she was holding something back.

"Nothing. That's it." She said quickly. A little too quickly, if you asked me.

"I'll wait for you to tell them. Please do it soon, because that's the only way we can heal. You understand that, don't you?"

She looked shocked, and angry, but begrudgingly shook her head.

I gave her a pitiful and sympathetic look when I saw her eyes come up to meet mine. Her eyes were dead. No emotion filled them, and they were flat brown for the first time. She had given up the fight to get out of here, and had given up. I was wrong before. This was rock bottom, when the shame is the only thing that fills you, and every emotion you feel is changed into guilt and shame. When you realize, there isn't anything you can hide, and there's no way you can leave here without their permission. You were helpless, and under the mercy of the people who lord over you. You can't get out without them.

Marc didn't even notice. Bastard, who did this to people, didn't even notice anymore.

"So Esme, we heard you had an incident. Tell us about that."

Bella's look was of relief. The pressure and attention was off of her.
Esme was not so lucky. She looked like a deer in the headlights. She stuttered to a start.

"It wasn't that bad! I swear, I just fucking hate this place. You all piss me the fuck off, and I just needed some relief, okay?"

"You will tell us what happened, and after group you will have focus time, instead of free time, for your inability to refrain from cursing." Marc responded, coldly.

"Fuck you. I hope you die, bitch. Mother fucker." Esme spat.

"You will tell us now, or you will remain in solitary until dinner."

"Asshole. So anyway, I just needed some relief."

"So what did you do?"

"I fucking took something and raked it across my arms in the middle of the night until I saw the tiny pinpoints of blood rush to my skin to greet me, okay? And don't you fucking DARE tell me to tell you what I used because I might use it later. If you guys are going to keep me here until hell freezes over, until insurance runs out, or until the maximum limit of six months, then I will fucking have a little fun. This place isn't a "stress centre" to get people better, and keep them from stress; it's a fucking loony bin, okay?"

Marc's expression didn't change. He didn't even acknowledge the taunting words she had thrown at him. "So, how did it feel?"

She was ready for this. "It felt amazing. It hurt at first, then a rush of heaven came up to greet me with the blood. I loved the blood, and I loved doing it. Y'all should try it sometime, it really is great." She sneered, with a grin posted on her face.

"SOLITARY!" Marc yelled, face turning red. The worst thing to tick off Marc was to try to get others to start to do your "bad" behavior.

Esme grinned. "My pleasure. No group for me today." She sang. She bowed to Marc, then skipped out of the room, humming a happy song. We saw her skip into her room, then look back out at us. She looked at Marc, then flicked him off.

The look on his face was bloodthirsty.

He called the nurse, and told her to lock Esme in. When the nurse finally came after fifteen minutes of us watching the door, instead of locking it, she rushed in. We were puzzled. Soon, two other nurses rushed in, and Marc ran out of the room. One rushed out, her arms covered in blood. Marc ran out and saw us. Blood covered his shirt, and stained over the light blue polo. It looked like a volcano of blood had erupted over his shirt, and had saturated him. We looked behind him to see a nurse with a suture run into Esme's room.

"Your rooms. Now! Stay there until I say to come out!" He growled. We all watched as he left then took Esme away on a stretcher. Her eyes were closed, unconscious, but she was smiling.

Marc left with them, only leaving one nurse here, and she was cleaning up.

We all left the room. Esme's room was the first from the group room, so we all had to walk past it. Out of natural curiosity, we all peered in.

It looked like a horror scene.

Blood was spattered everywhere. It covered the white bedspread, and it looked saturated. It was even put across the window. She had written in her own blood on the window. "Happy now?" My mouth was gaping. She must have hit a vein. This wasn't cutting for self mutilation. This was suicidal. With how much blood that was everywhere, she may have gotten her wish.

I walked to my room, Bella following directly behind me. The nurse was so busy, that when I looked back, Jasper was hugging Rosalie, and I don't think the nurse would notice had they been making out.

When I got to my room, I opened my door, when I felt a tug on my shirt. I looked down a little. Bella was pulling me toward her room. For the third time in a very short while, my mouth dropped open.

"Just come!" She whispered, and pulled me again.
I followed her into her room, nervously looking around. She turned back to me, looking somewhat guilty, and somewhat scared at me. I just grabbed her into an embrace. "Pregnant?" I whispered. All she could do was nod. I felt nothing but compassion for her. "Are you going to keep it?" I asked, letting her go.

"I'm not having an abortion. I just… I can't do that to my child or to my dad. He wants this baby more than I do. I'm defiantly having my dad adopt her."

"Her? How do you….?"

"I can feel her. I know it's a girl. Somehow, I'm almost positive it's a girl. Don't tell anyone that though." I looked in awe at this creature before me. She stood like any average girl, but inside her was this little…bundling of cells that was turning into a new life. The prospect amazed me. All of the sudden, she broke down crying. "I don't know how I'm going to do this. My diabetes has been out of control with the pregnancy, and I'm so emotional. And birthing a child! I can't do it." She somehow ended up in my arms again; Bella was sobbing into my chest, soaking my shirt. The only thing I could do was hug her tighter.

All of the sudden she pulled away from me, then pushed me back. She slammed the door in my face. I was shocked and confused. All of the sudden, I heard the water running. I gently opened her door. The bathroom door was still open. I peered in. Bella was on her knees, throwing up into the toilet. I went over and knelt next to her, holding her hair behind her head, and rubbing her back. She looked so fragile. How could Bella be pregnant? She looked too skinny if anything, not like a girl who was to give birth in a short seven months.

Bella looked extremely pale and yellow as she came up. Her entire body was shaking. I handed her a towel and a bottle of water. Bella looked appreciative, but ended up throwing up almost a second later. I never could take someone throwing up before. I usually ended up running out, but not with her. I couldn't explain why, but I couldn't leave her. Not here, not now.
All of the sudden, she turned away from the toilet, her head towards the shower. She refused to look at me. I handed her a towel, and she wiped her mouth free of her own throw up. I handed her a bottle of water, but she refused it. I ran and got her toothbrush and toothpaste. When I came in, she was lying on the floor, shaking. I got her toothbrush and toothpaste ready. I lifted her nearly limp body to me, and brushed her teeth for her. She looked at me with eyes of appreciation, but she refused to say anything. She had already cleaned up the bathroom.

After a few minutes of brushing her teeth, I made her spit out the toothpaste. As soon as she did, she groaned. I handed her a bottle of water, which she accepted with vigor, then she gargled it. Soon she turned to me. Her eyes were tear streaked from accidentally crying while throwing up. Her hair was a mess. For the first time in my life, I clucked and pulled at her hair, straightening it until it was normal again. She looked up at me, and just beamed into my eyes. I looked at her. What was I feeling? Did I…actually care for this girl? She was knocked up by another man, and we were in a psych ward. How did this happen?

As I was pondering that, the nurse bustled in. "What are you doing?" She turned her eyes on me. Oh shit.

( I was going to end it there but I couldn't do that to y'all)

"You are both LUCKY that I am here and Marc isn't. You know he has that stick up his butt still." Cathy started. We both just looked at her. "You know I'm right. I'm not mad, but I do want to know what you're doing in here. You know guys and girls, you know, can't."
Then I remembered why Cathy was always my favorite. I breathed a sigh of relief. "She was puking. I wanted to help her out. You know." I babbled. Cathy gave me a weird look, but came over to me anyway. Well, she actually came over to Bella, but same thing. She and I helped Bella to stand. She was still so weak. We walked her over to her bed. Bella looked fragile. She looked up at me.

"Edward? I hungry. …" she started. She was shaking and sweating all over. Her entire body seemed to be frozen. The nurse looked alarmed, then pulled a lancet out of her pockets, pricking Bella's finger. "OW!" Bella screamed, then looked angrily at the nurse. We ran her blood sugar fast. Thirty. All of the sudden, Bella started shaking out of control.

She was seizing.

(This up coming chapter is in medias res. Just so you know. =D)

Bella's Point of View:

I awoke in that fucking room, all alone. I had been afraid of the dark since, well, that thing happened. I would never get over it. I screamed. I wanted to be out of this damn place. Where were my parents? Was he lurking somewhere in the darkness? Was I totally alone? Just the thought of him made me sit up and run to the door. I kicked the door. My foot sort of hurt after that. Maybe I shouldn't be doing this in "my condition". I no longer cared. "SHIT!" I screamed at no one. "Let me out! Get me out of this thing!" I kicked harder. All of the sudden memories flooded back to me.

I remembered him. Everywhere. He was everywhere. I couldn't stand it.

Then I remembered Emmett, my savior and my protector, or so I thought. He'd left me as soon as he found out about his baby. It was our first time ever having sex. He thought I couldn't get pregnant. How wrong he was….

I remembered screaming at my father until the morning about how much he couldn't care about me. How I was going to shoot myself in the head with his police gun. That was the day he told me I needed to come here. The next day, I did. I think it was only a threat until I yelled so much. Too late now.

I remembered the look on my mother's face when I said I was pregnant. I remember her screaming about how irresponsible I was. "A high schooler should not be engaging in sexual activities. Sex is for adults, and you getting knocked up, shows how irresponsible and childish you are." Those were the most stinging words I had ever gotten from my mother. How she hated me for the child. How she hated the child that sucked its life from me.

I remembered the first throwing up. The first day late. Then the second. Then after a while, it was the tenth day missed. I knew I was in trouble.

I remembered the look on the cashier's face as I handed her the two boxes of pregnancy tests.

Then I took them home and took them before my father, Charlie, got home. I took one. Negative. I breathed the biggest sigh of relief. Then I took a second. Negative. When I looked at the first one again, it said positive. What? I looked at the box, and the wait time was longer than what I had thought it said. I watched in horror for the next two minutes as that second little pink strip showed up, confirming my worst fear. I was sixteen and pregnant. This couldn't be. I decided to wait till the next day.

The next day, I did the same. I sat on the floor waiting. I held my breath as the first strip turned a light blue. I waited. The second strip once again turned a blue colour. "DAMN IT!" I screamed, followed with endless sobbing, until Charlie came home. I told him immediately. He looked upset, and I watched as his hand twitched towards the gun as he asked who the father was.

I had refused to tell him until he gave me the bullets. As soon as I told him, he ran out. I got a call from Emmett later, asking if it was true I was going to have a baby. I confirmed it. He told me that I hadn't been a virgin when he had sex with me, and that I was a slut, and it couldn't be his. Emmett also told me to give my regards to my "son of a bitch rogue cop of a father". I cringed as Emmett slammed the phone down.

And then I remembered being brought in here. I remembered refusing to lay down on the bed, if you could really call it down, and the sharp pain in my arm as the nurse sedated me. It still pissed me off.

I broke from my memories, sobbing. "It's dark! I'm afraid of the dark!" I cried. No one was listening. I hated those memories. I couldn't stop crying either. I kicked at the door a couple times for good measure to get rid of the dark loom that fell upon me. It didn't work. The tears were soaking my face and body again. I heard a door creek open close by. I heard a slight sound as a person stepped onto the floor across the hall from me.

"Hello?" I mumbled quietly, knowing that no one would answer me, "Is anyone out there? Or am I all alone?"

To my surprise, I heard a reply.

"I'm Edward. I'm with you and I live here too. You're in confinement for 24 hours before they let you out. Just don't struggle or they'll keep you in there for longer." Damn, his voice was sexy. Fuck, I was stuck here for twenty four hours? How long had I been unconscious? I hoped it had been for a really long time. The feeling of someone being with me though, was invigorating. I needed him to be there. I felt an instant bond forming. The joy of being with someone was filling me.

"I'm so happy I'm not alone. I'm so scared." It was the truth. I hadn't been more afraid for a while. This place was a hell hole. My father told me I would be here a while. Possibly until the baby was born, or a little after considering how many moms had post partum depression. He didn't want me to go kill myself period, especially after having my daughter. I didn't want to be here though.

"I know. I know. Hold on." I heard Edward jiggle the lock. It was obviously locked, or I would've at least left this room. I listened as he swore under his breath. How I wanted to see my savior. I wanted to hug him. Or kiss him. Ha. How could I like a guy I had only known for a few minutes, and I had never seen him. Pathetic, Bella? I think so. The loneliness sunk in again though. I whimpered unintentionally. This place was hopeless.

He heard me whimper in the darkness. He told me to imagine him hugging me.

I giggled at the prospect. I couldn't imagine if I had never even seen him. What if he was fat? What if he was ugly? The only image in my mind of Edward, though, was one very cute guy who was super nice. I wondered what Edward was in here for. I suppose it was hard for him to imagine me. I started to describe myself honestly.

"My eyes are a dull brown, the colour of dirt and mud, and crap. My hair, it drives me crazy. It's terrible and I couldn't wish for worse hair. It's reddish brown and glows in the sunlight. It frizzes all the time. I hate it." I glared at a loose strand hanging in front of my face, before flicking it off to the side. He started to talk randomly to me. My body started to shut down. My eyes closed more and more as I listened to him, finally slumping down to the floor, and falling into the darkness.

AN: I put BPOV so I want 5 reviews. Plus it's Christmas and I want to get reviews so I can give a chapter. 5 reviews? One per person? Is that really too much. Review and I might put your name in a chapter………