AN:

I have been truly touched and thrilled by the responses to this story. Each and every reviewer has my utmost love and respect for taking the time to let me know what they think. A special thank you to those with whom I've emailed, PM'ed or simply carried a dialogue. I cannot stress how important this story is to me on a personal level.

I've also been highly amused with those who've chosen to come play on Twitter with Doucheward and Bitchella. Rest assured, a LOT of material is there for future chapters. One thing I want to reassure people of: no major spoilers will be featured on the Twitter account. Follow ForkedUp to play along.

Thanks to angelicwish/Megsly, who has been my test driver for this story and is generally awesome. Are you reading her work? You ought to!

STAY TUNED FOR THE END NOTES FOR SPECIAL NEWS.

As always, Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight; I just like to make her characters curse and get kinky. I also love 'em angsty.

Special note for FF readers: Due to their URL restrictions, you may see strange looking links in 'Tweets'. This is why I recommend reading this story in particular on Twilighted if you have the option. :p on you, FF!


Bella towel-dried her long mahogany locks and sighed, running a large comb through the tangles as she stood naked before the mirror. Immediately, as was her custom, her eyes began their critical examination of her face, weighing in on how bad things were. Cheeks aren't sunken like after the accident; this is an improvement. Eyes are dark, circled; I need to sleep more. Her mind drifted immediately to how she'd felt in Edward's arms, her naked flesh curled to his, and a wave of calm flooded her. Scratch that; I need to sleep with Edward more often and, in turn, actually sleep. Hanging the towel on the back of the door, her hands drifted along her slight frame, caressing the sides of her breasts, her waist, her hips, falling away as they connected with her thighs. Bella had never had an issue with her body, besides being bitter at its utter lack of coordination embarrassing her at every stair, hill or slight crack in a tile. She heard the girls in her gym class afterwards, bemoaning every aspect of their bodies until they had torn themselves to pieces, the full-length mirrors a war zone that claimed casualties every minute; such hatred mystified her. She felt herself to be plain, average in all ways, but she didn't hate her smallish breasts, nor did she begrudge her lacking hips. Her inner self was what she hated, and it demanded all of her time and energy.

Her eyes gazed downwards at her ankles, wincing at the way lines of flesh fell in relief to the pale skin, crisscrossing patterns along the inner surfaces. She both loved and hated the lines, their presence a sign of weakness and also strength; without them, she would be dead, but with them, she was undeniably sick and twisted, a dark creature who destroyed even herself. Bella sighed, shaking her head as she looked to the mirror, her frown intensifying. Sooner or later, Edward would see them; he'd already caught her clawing at her arms, something she often did unconsciously when upset, unaware until she'd dug hard enough to draw blood. What would he think? Would he think her ugly? Insane? Her right hand reached down, grazing the single thick scar along her hip, thus far unnoticed - or perhaps not recognized for its self-inflicted nature. If he leaves... No. I'm not even going to consider it. There is no way but with him. He is my boyfriend, and has been nothing but compassionate and caring so far. Tossing her hair over her shoulder, Bella padded naked across the hall of the deserted house, shutting her door behind her.

Boyfriend. The word itself brought a grin to her face, shattering the melancholy that had fallen like the raining water of the shower pulsing overhead. Bella had never been one to date; boys usually didn't notice her, unless they were looking for someone to trip in the hall for a laugh. It was only after she'd moved from Forks that she'd drawn attention from the opposite sex, and even then, the only one she'd consented to giving the time of day was Jacob Black, and that was because he had been a friend for years. Edward was so unexpected, so not the guy who paid her attention; then again, he didn't act the role of the entitled rich asshole, either. Things were moving so fast - from bitter argument to friendly banter to intimacy - and yet, it felt too slow. She wanted more. She wanted him around every morning, wanted to know how his skin would feel in the warm beams of sunrise; hell, she almost wanted him to catch her singing, tone-deaf and hopeless, each and every sleepless night, in hopes he would sing for her and tuck her back into bed. God, his voice! He could make an album with a voice like that! Smiling now, her fears pushed back as she recalled the rich, bluesy tones that accompanied her own mezzo-soprano, Bella slipped into a pair of lacy black bikini briefs and a matching bra and began pawing through her closet for something to wear. After some debate, Bella settled on deep blue flared jeans and a black peasant blouse her mother had bought her just before her death.

"I'll take you with me to meet them, Mom," she whispered, "I think you'd love Edward. You'd probably hit on him, actually. But you'd like him."

Her hair still damp, Bella made her way down the stairs, intent on tidying up downstairs before Charlie came home. Her cell phone lay charging on the living room table, beside the laptop, and she checked for messages, lest Charlie had called. Her voicemail announced no messages and she hit the End button, turning to her computer. Popping open iTunes, she began a new playlist for Edward's mix CD and shuffled every Matthew Good track she owned, flipping next to her browser to start her morning routine of email and the like.

Popping onto Twitter first, she logged in and clicked the ForkedUp link, surprised by the first Tweet she saw waiting.

B, a song for you: "If I would, could you?" For you, I always will... save you from granola baptisms. /~e76q0

"Ha! I KNEW I could get him hooked!" Bella crowed, pausing iTunes and clicking the link.

She recognized the song immediately from her Seattle Grunge phase a year back, her heart swelling with emotion. Darkly beautiful... Like Edward. Singing along quietly, she addressed a few other replies from her cluster of equally jaded followers and jumped to her Google account, finding her email empty and her Reader brimming with new articles. Shit, I keep forgetting to read these, Bella groaned, opting to ditch all of the posts from political blogs and pulling up Cyanide and Happiness instead. The serious stuff could wait for a while; right now, she wanted to enjoy the afterglow of another night with Edward and brace herself for Charlie's wrath.

"Into the flood again, same old trip it was back then. So I made a big mistake - try to see it once my way..."

Bella's mind drifted to last year, when there was no awkwardness surrounding La Push and her father's friendship with Billy. There were so many things she longed to undo, things she would happily change if she were able. She would give her life to remedy the damage she'd done, without any hesitation. But there was nothing she could do; her father had tried, in spite of her pleas to leave it be, to will a truce into existence. If nothing else, Charlie was loyal to her, standing by her in the face of a grave error in judgement and its fall-out. For this, she loved him dearly. It was partially to spare him being pulled back and forth that she'd attempted suicide; she'd wanted him to be free. This truth would never be spoken to him, Bella knew, but it was the one thing that the psychiatrist assessing her at the hospital had held up as proof that she wasn't a selfish person, but one who perhaps cared too much at times, and she clung to it like a talisman on bad nights.

The song ended and Bella resumed her playlist hunt, forcing herself to focus on comics and not on the screaming, anguished faces that lived in her nightmares. A clicking in the front door lock startled her half an hour later and she lowered the volume on her music, biting her lower lip as Charlie entered slowly, treading lightly.

"Hi Dad," she called out nervously, rooted to the couch.

Charlie's gaze fell on her and she winced; it was his 'worried sick' face. Crap. This could be a long, long day.

"Bells, you're home."

"I came home last night at dinner," she explained, "I got your message."

Charlie's face grew more strained with worry as he sat down his bag at the door and stepped into the room, "I didn't know. I never would have stayed out there if I knew-"

"It's fine. I'm fine."

"Bella, you haven't stayed alone since-"

"Charlie, it's fine," Bella insisted, "You have a right to a life. I survived, didn't I?"

"That's not funny, Bella," Charlie replied sharply, stepping closer to the couch.

"I'm sorry. How was the party?"

"Good. Billy asked about you. So did Seth Clearwater."

"Was Jake there?" Bella asked anxiously.

"No, he took off for the weekend with Sam, Emily and Leah," Charlie answered quietly, his eyes shifting downward, "He's fine, though, from what Billy says. We caught a lot of fish," he added, gesturing to the bag by the door.

"We'll have to cook some up tonight then," Bella murmured, "With lemon and dill?"

Charlie nodded, rocking back and forth on his feet, obviously unsure of how to broach the subject of Bella quitting group therapy. In spite of his generally detached approach to life, Bella knew how to read his slight facial movements and nervous habits. Running a hand through her damp hair, Bella decided to help him out for once. God knows I've put him through enough bullshit.

"I had to quit group, Dad. It really wasn't helping me at all."

"Bells, you need to talk to someone about... you know-"

"About my little garage stunt? Yes, I know. I do. But that is exactly why I won't go back: I wasn't talking. I didn't feel comfortable with the other people. I didn't like Dr. Jones' style and her way of speaking to people. The woman's a granola child of rainbows, Dad. Her touchy-feely New Age approach made me sick. And it wasn't just me; Edward thought she was annoying as hell, too."

"Who's Edward?" Charlie asked, an eyebrow raising.

Shit. 'Um, you see Dad, Edward cursed at Dr. Jones, which I found strangely alluring. After a bad start, we ended up drinking for hours then sleeping together, and we did it again in my room last night. I promise we were safe! I'm 21!' I guess he'd figure it out quickly enough, anyway...

"Edward Cullen. He and I... Well, it's so new and all, but... We're kinda... sorta... dating now?"

Charlie's stony silence sent a shiver down Bella's spine. Oh. Crap. Rising to her feet, Bella approached her father slowly, her hand tentatively reaching for his arm.

"Dad? Look, I know it's sudden, but he's friends with Ronan. Ronan set us up to drink, thinking we'd make good friends in our miserable little worlds, but it just... It's more. He's really good to me, and I'm going over to spend time with his family later tonight."

Charlie nodded, ever so slightly, "Dr. Cullen's boy?"

"Yes. The younger one."

"Hmmph. He used to be a bit of an ass. Speeding tickets, mostly. Bella, I don't know if I like this - NOT because of who he is, but because you're... Bella, you're not well. And if he was there, he's not well-"

"Which is why we understand each other, why he gets me in a way that next to nobody can right now," Bella countered, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks.

"I'm just saying that he could break your heart, Bella. And the last time that happened..."

Charlie's voice trailed, off, his eyes blinking hard as he averted his gaze. Wordlessly, Bella threw herself against his chest, hugging him tightly, her own eyes moistening against her will. See what you've done to him, you wretch? You just hurt people, time and time again! His sturdy arms surrounded her, squeezing gently.

"I know I'm not around much, and I know I don't say it a lot, but I love you, Bells. I don't ever want to see you that low again, you understand me?"

"I know," Bella whispered, "This feels different."

"You need to talk to somebody other than Edward, Bella," he pressed.

"I will, I promise. Edward's dad is a doctor, so maybe he'll know someone else I can see, maybe near work?"

Charlie's hands gripped her shoulders, pressing her backwards and allowing his brown eyes to fix upon hers. He inhaled deeply, holding his breath as he sought out answers to the questions he dared not breathe aloud, the ones Bella could imagine for him: Are you suicidal? Are you drinking too much? Are you happy? With a deep breath of her own, Bella composed the best answer she could for these and other questions bound to be brewing within him.

"I want to be better for him, Dad."

Charlie nodded, "I want to meet him tonight."

"I already warned him; he's bringing the Kevlar vest," Bella joked weakly, her skin beginning to crawl with the tension in the room.

"I'm not that bad, Bella," Charlie muttered, "Did you eat yet?"

"Nope. Want some bacon and eggs?"

"Sounds good, kid," Charlie affirmed, allowing Bella to slide past him towards the kitchen, "Oh, and Bella?"

Bella paused at the foyer, glancing back over her shoulder, "Yeah?"

With a wicked grin, Charlie spoke, "That vest won't protect him where I'd shoot him if he mistreats my daughter."

Bella shook her head, laughing, "You're hopeless! I'll be a spinster if you have your way!"

"Just a virgin until thirty," Charlie quipped, settling in on the couch.

Beelining for the cupboards and selecting a frying pan, Bella smiled to herself. For your own sake Charlie, cling to that misinformation. Because I'd hate to see what you'd do to either of the men who've deflowered your baby girl.


The day passed slowly, painfully so, as Bella did her best to distract herself from the hours separating her from Edward's side. After breakfast and dishes, Bella had forced herself to head to bed and nap for a few hours, her body drained from weeks of restlessness and rages. Pressing her head to the pillow where Edward had laid his head, she'd inhaled deeply, the lingering scent of him soothing her to three hours of deep sleep. The downside was awakening with tangled, wild locks that refused to be tamed and a blouse that needed a quick press to be presentable again. Pulling her hair up into a wild, messy bun, Bella made her way downstairs, surprised to find her father absent. A note on the fridge indicated he'd gone down to the station, 'But I will be back for dinner and to meet your boyfriend.' Bella chuckled, pouring herself a glass of juice and settling in with the laptop on the couch.

On cue, it began to rain heavily, nature echoing the sadness she felt at being separated from the one person who could hold her sanity steady in the storm inside her head. The droplets slid against the window pane, streaks fading and blending together, water weaving itself into a tiny rivulet pouring to meet the ground. Bella watched them for a while, her eyes tracking the tiniest ones, marvelling at how they shimmered when strange beams of sunlight cut a swath through the murky clouds overhead. Were raindrops unique, like snowflakes? Were the clouds sentient and aware of the power they had to sway mood by choosing to withhold or release moisture to the expectant earth below? With a sigh, Bella flipped to her account, tapping keys and pressing enter to search. Time to start today's playlist, she mused. As Shirley Manson's voice filled the room, she tapped in her message.

I remember when Ronan told me about this track. It was like Shirley was singing my manifesto on life in Forks. Need more rain songs, E. Help? /~e8avs

Singing along, she quickly chose tracks for Edward's CD, sorting them into an order she felt flowed nicely. Bella was admittedly anal retentive about mixes and playlists; she often spent hours picking and choosing tracks and sorting their order, to the point where Ronan had started joking she was becoming John Cusack in High Fidelity. She remembered how he'd laughed at her response: "You say it like it's a bad thing!" Truth be told, Bella had a crush on Rob Gordon's character as a thirteen year-old; he'd been the reason why she'd become so obsessed with music in the first place. Intellectually, she knew he was a cheating, lying asshole to his girlfriend and yet, his knowledge of music and neuroticism was somehow so damn sexy. Her mother probably should have taken it as a sign of mental dysfunction and plunked her straight into therapy then.

Her Twitter feed was a mess of the inane and various complaints about the weather, celebrities and family. One tweet, however, caught her eye:

Would a muzzle be an unacceptable wedding gift for my brother and his bitch... I mean bride?

Bella laughed out loud, shaking her head at Edward's remarks. He really, really didn't like this woman marrying his brother. She could only imagine that the muzzle comment was spurred by either inane babble or (most likely) overhearing something dreadful from their bedroom this morning. Either way, Bella was grateful that there was one less person to impress that night at the Cullen home: if Edward found her dreadful, then she was allowed to ignore any negativity slung her way. The one person whose opinion she worried most about was his sister's; despite his assurance that Alice would like her, Bella could sense their closeness, and understood that she would be scrutinized by the tiny girl from the Porsche. What if she doesn't like me? With a groan, Bella flipped back to her Google Reader, alternating between the 175 new posts and her , searching for songs about rain and favouriting the ones she liked best. One of her finds ended up on her iTunes after a quick purchase, and she immediately broadcast it, hoping it would find Edward before their evening together.

How about this one? "Sadness like water, raining down..." /~e8ib3

Humming along, Bella checked the clock beside the TV. Four o'clock; Charlie should be home shortly. Rising and stretching, Bella slipped into the kitchen and whipped up a quick marinade for the fresh fish, leaving it in the fridge as she cleaned and prepared asparagus for steaming. Her playlist ended and she frowned, pulling out the potatoes she intended to bake and abandoning them on the counter. Clicking through her home page, she noticed a blip from Edward and felt a stupid grin growing on her face.

I'm more partial to this Moby track, myself... Trip out, my Bitchella, and enjoy. /~e8jcu

Pressing play, Bella nodded with satisfaction; the song was fantastic, and kept with her theme. I wonder what he's doing, she mused, returning to her dinner preparations. A part of her longed to call him, if only to hear his voice, but she forced her hands to remain occupied in the kitchen. I can't be too clingy. He has his own worries, and his family probably wants some time with him too. A clicking in the lock at the front door brushed aside all debate; her father was home. Please, please like Edward. Please don't scare him away. Her father's slight smile and nod as he stepped into the foyer was a promising sign; the morning's conversation had been dismissed as complete. Dinner, at least, would be pleasant. Hopefully, the post-dinner conversation would proceed just as well.

Outside the rain continued to pour, relentless in its assault. Turning to the window looking out upon the backyard, Bella wondered if her depression would forever be the same as this storm. From the living room, Moby's soft voice accented her reverie.

"I close my eyes
It doesn't work
I can hear tomorrow
I can't stand to see the morning come
While the evening rain's still falling..."


Settling into the passenger seat of Edward's Volvo, Bella heaved a sigh of relief. Charlie had thankfully not grilled Edward too harshly, although he'd apparently looked up his driving abstract and mentioned an outstanding parking ticket to him seventy seconds after he'd stepped through her front door. Bella had mouthed an apology as Edward shrugged, thanking the Chief for reminding him and setting an alert in his cell phone to pay it the following day. His deft handling of Charlie's subtle challenge had won a tacit approval and a quick release from his interview - for now, at least. As Edward turned the key and revved the engine, Bella chuckled, shaking her head.

"Did you know that he would bring that up?"

Edward laughed, "It occurred to Alice that the Chief might check me out, so I came prepared for something of that nature."

Bella's jaw dropped, "She really is psychic, isn't she?"

"I told you!" Edward grinned, pulling out onto the main drag, his fingers tapping against the wheel, "Although she'll argue that it was common sense, something she's adamant I lack. I have to apologize in advance: everybody is home, and I do mean everybody. Carlisle's in the study, Alice has her boyfriend Jasper over, and Rosalie and Emmett are fighting over table seating charts for the wedding - or they were. By now, Emmett's run off to hide with the Playstation 3 and Rosalie will be on her cell phone, bitching to her mom about some tiny detail she hates about the place setting cards."

Bella swallowed away the lump in her throat at the mental picture of impressing five new faces, deciding to find out more about Edward's muzzle comments, "You really don't care for her much, do you? I saw your Tweet and laughed very hard at it."

Edward sighed, "Rosalie is just very... superficial. Vain, really. She's also so... She wants the white picket fence, the 2.5 children, all that nonsense that society dictates makes your life perfect and normal. I don't relate to that yearning to conform to some supposed vision of perfect reality. This morning, she would just not shut up at breakfast and I wanted to stuff an orange in her mouth for some peace."

"Maybe she's into ball gags," Bella joked, "You could be doing Emmett a favour."

"Bella! That's horrible, and now I have a mental image," Edward groaned, flipping the turn indicator.

"Sorry; I'm a pervert. I blame it on the La Push kids. If the elders only knew..."

Edward cleared his throat, his hand reaching out to turn off the music quietly droning from the radio. Bella's body immediately stiffened, sensing that what was coming next would be painful or difficult to hear. Absently, her fingers toyed with the hem of her blouse, her breath caught in her lungs.

"Bella, before we get to my house, I wanted to ask you something important," Edward began, "I just... I want to understand something." He glanced at her briefly with concern, his eyes returning to the water-logged road quickly.

"Um, okay..." Oh God. What did I do? What's wrong? Think, Bella: what have you done this time?

Edward sucked in a deep breath, "Last night, you... You were clawing at yourself pretty viciously. I came home and I couldn't get it out of my head, so I started reading..." Edward's voice trailed off, his grip on the wheel tightening, "Shit, this is hard... Bella do you... have you...?"

Bella's eyes locked on the windshield wipers, her eyes flicking in time with the blades as the rain drummed lightly upon the glass, "D-do I w-what?"

Don't. Don't ask it. PLEASE don't be asking it... Inside her head, the bees began to buzz, that steady white noise that signalled the descent she dreaded. Her fingers curled tighter and Bella feared for the flimsy blouse.

Turning into a secluded driveway, Edward pulled off to the side, throwing the car into park, his question tumbling from his lips in a hurried mess, "Are you cutting yourself, Bella?"

The force of a truck slammed into Bella's chest, her lungs seizing as sparks flew across her vision. Choking back a sob, she felt herself buckle against the seat belt. He knows. The droning grew louder, her head swelling with the pressure of it, and a whimper escaped her lips. Not again, not again...

"Bella?"


INTERACTION TIME!

It's awards season (well, it's always awards season in fic-land) and I'm thrilled that there are THREE competitions where my fics are nominated, including this story! I would appreciate your support, of course, but no matter what, GO VOTE/NOMINATE! Fanfiction can feel thankless, especially for lesser-known writers, so help ensure love reaches all the stories you care about.

DISC JOCKEYS FANS: Jasper is a finalist for Character You Wish Was Real at the Faithful Shipper Awards. Voting closes on the 12th so please hurry! Jasper promises to insult more customers and pose with Velvet if you do.
thefaithfulshipperawards[dot]webs[dot]com/finalvotinground[dot]htm

DELIRATIO is already nominated for Best Crossover at the Sparkle Awards, but nominations are still open in a few categories. Plus, there's voting to come! Go check it out:
thesparkleawards[dot]webs[dot]com/nominees[dot]htm

AND FOR YOU LOVELIES READING TATTOOS, this story has been nominated for Best All Human story at the Moonlight Awards! Nominations close tomorrow and then voting will begin! Go see (and thank you):
themoonlightawards[dot]yolasite[dot]com/nominate[dot]php