For as long as I could remember I'd been a klutz. Nothing too serious, but enough to make sure to stay stocked up on bandaids and ice packs for cuts and bruises. On occasion I'd run down the stairs too fast and twist my ankle. Or run into a glass door and I'd have to deal with a goose egg on my forehead.

Until the day I cut my hand trying to help Bree make dad's surprise birthday dinner.

"It won't stop bleeding!" I cried out in pain as I watched the warm, red liquid slowly gushing out of the wound in my flesh.

"Put it under the cold water!" Bree shouted from across the room where she held the phone to her shoulder. "Dad's not answering the page," she muttered as she hopped back and forth anxiously.

"Do you think I need to go to the hospital?" I asked as tears slowly clouded my vision.

"I don't know! You know blood makes me sick. Is it that bad? I can't look or I might throw up!"

I bit my bottom lip as I pulled my hand out of the ice cold water and watched the blood start to seep out of my palm.

"It's still bleeding," I muttered to myself as I wiped my eyes on my sleeve.

"Oh thank god!" Bree exhaled in relief.

"What?"

"Edward's here! I forgot he was coming to drop off that movie… he can take us to the hospital."

I continued to worry my lip as I pulled my hand out of the water again and noticed it continued to bleed.

"Edward, Bella needs to go to the hospital. She cut her hand and it won't stop bleeding."

Edward strode into the kitchen and reached for my frozen, wet hand. I watched as he reached for a dish cloth and confidently wrapped it tightly around the cut.

"Just keep pressure on it, okay?"

I nodded and followed them out the door.

Twenty minutes later we were sitting in the empty waiting room of the emergency room with dirty yellow walls and worn plastic chairs.

Bree was down the hall trying to reach dad on the phone while Edward sat next to me tapping his fingers on his knee.

"Can you distract me?" I asked anxiously.

"How?"

"I don't know… It just really hurts."

"Um okay…" he stammered before clearing his throat. "Do you, um, did you finish the book you were reading?"

"Which one?"

"Romeo and Juliet?"

I nodded and winced when the bloody cloth pulled on the cut.

"I finished that a while ago. It was okay… I didn't understand some things but I liked reading it more than the movie."

Edward chuckled. "Are you sure you're twelve?"

"Why?"

"You just… you don't seem like most twelve year olds."

I wondered if I should ask him what he meant by that, but a friendly looking nurse in pink floral scrubs walked in holding a chart.

"Isabella? Dr. Cullen will see you now."

"Dr. Cullen?" I asked as I glanced between the nurse and Edward.

"My dad," he offered with a shrug. "He'll fix you right up. I promise."

"Alright…"

I'd never liked seeing doctors, but in me knew that Edward was right, and everything would be fine.