Chapter 4... hope you enjoy, please read and review... please... with cream... and cherries? Maddison

Anything that you recognise belongs to Stephenie Meyer.

Edward POV

The first thing I noticed was an annoying beeping sound. Then it was the exhausting sluggishness that had taken over my body. I blinked a few times, my eyes getting used to the harsh brightness of the room I was in. Once I had gained awareness of my surroundings, I realised that I must have failed. The generic white walls, the machines surrounding me as well as Esme, Carlisle and Bella sitting tiredly on plastic chairs around the bed I was in were all a pretty good indication that I was in a hospital.

The next thing that grabbed my attention was my inability to move my arms or legs, or to sit up, for that matter. I angled my head, so I could see my body properly and groaned. My legs were strapped to the bed, as if to prevent me kicking, or something. My arms were tightly wrapped in white bandages to the elbows, secured to the bed at both my elbows and wrists. There was another restraint across my chest, preventing me from sitting up.

I struggled against the restraints, hating the feeling of being out of control, trying in vain to break the restraints or something, just to get me out of them. My family noticed my struggles and smiled sadly at me. I pleaded with my eyes to them to help me, to let me out, but they just silently shook their heads at me.

I attempted to talk to them, to plead with them, if it came to that, to let me out and forget that anything ever happened, but when I tried to speak my throat was too dry and sore to form any words, except for an odd scratchy sound. I guess someone must have hit the call button, because just then a doctor walked in.

"Hello Edward. It's good to see that you are awake. You have been unconscious for four days, after your mother found you and called an ambulance. You will only be released from your restraints when it is time for your meals; they are there for your own safety as well as ours. I am guessing that your throat is probably very sore, drink water slowly to relieve that."

And with that he shot me a condescending look, before walking out of the room, shutting the door firmly behind him. Esme held a cup (plastic, of course) of water up to m lips, tilting it so a small mouthful of the water trickled into my mouth. After repeating this process a couple of times my throat finally felt normal enough to talk.

My voice came out in a soft whisper, and sounded a bit off, but it was better than not being able to talk at all.

"Why am I here?" I asked, hoping that they would be fooled, and think that I didn't have anything to do with the cuts on my arms.

"I think you know why, Edward," Carlisle started. No such luck then. "Esme came home from work early, and saw your car in the garage. When she couldn't find you in the house, and you bedroom door was locked, she assumed that you must have been in there. When she got no response she broke the lock on your door. She saw you and called an ambulance straight away. The doctors say that along with the four main cuts that you were bleeding from, they found evidence and scars from hundreds of other, smaller cuts, all over you body. Would you mind explaining this?"

The way he said that last sentence implied that even though he was asking, I didn't really have much choice; he would force me to tell him everything, one way or another. But I wasn't going to give in. I didn't have to tell them anything. It's not like they're my family or anything. So I told them just that.

"I don't have to answer to you, or tell you anything!! You're not my family!! You can't make me!!" I started thrashing round again, trying desperately to get out. When I got out of the hospital I am going to run away, go somewhere where they will never find me, kill myself, and never come back!! They couldn't stop me! I was going to kill myself no matter what!

Why should I stay on this world when there was nothing here for me? I had no family, no friends, no hopes or dreams, nothing. No-one wanted me here anyway. They would all be better off if they had never met me, and seeing as I can't go back in time and make them never meet me, I can do the next best thing and remove myself from their lives, and stop me from ruining anyone else's. If I'm not here, I can't hurt them, waste their money, time and energy with them always having to look out for me. The world would be a better place without me in it. I just hoped that I had hid my stuff well enough that they would have no chance of finding it; I think I had, but if they looked too closely they might find things that they never needed to.

They could keep living their happy, innocent lives once I was gone. Only this time they wouldn't have the horrible, damaging black stain ruining them that was me. They could keep thinking that they could make the world a better place, and that there was so much less violence and hate than what there was, but I knew better, and I was just a constant reminder that not everyone is like them. They would be better off without me tarnishing them, just like I tarnish and ruin everything that I ever touch, or come into contact with.

I deserve to die, and no-one can stop me.