Chapter 7: Breathe Me


Warning and Spoiler: This chapter deals with themes that may distress some readers. There will be some discussion of depression and suicide, but no detailed descriptions, I promise. Please, feel free to PM me if you need to know more.


Thank you so much to all of you who are reading, reviewing, tweeting and pimping me out! I appreciate it immensely.

Tam, you push me to write better, catch my excessive adverbs, calm my nerves, and gift me with many smiley moments. Thank you. I love you, bb. *cuddles*


Breathe Me, Sia.

Help, I have done it again
I have been here many times before
Hurt myself again today
And, the worst part is there's no-one else to blame

Be my friend
Hold me, wrap me up
Unfold me
I am small
I'm needy
Warm me up
And breathe me

Ouch, I have lost myself again
Lost myself and I am nowhere to be found,
Yeah I think that I might break
I've lost myself again and I feel unsafe


June 2009 cont.

"Bella?"

I have to smile as I kick off my new red chucks inside the front door.

"In here."

I follow her voice to the kitchen, finding her seated at the table, poring over a cookbook.

"Have you not eaten?" I ask, frowning.

"No, I have. But, you're home earlier than I expected. I was going to make dessert before you got in."

"Oh. You, uh, you want a hand?"

Bella smiles up at me, "Yeah! Let's cook. What are you in the mood for?"

I consider it briefly before I shrug. "Anything, really. What were you thinking?"

Bella slides the cookbook in front of me, and I nod in agreement. Chocolate chip pancakes with salted caramel sauce. Fuck, yes!

"You make the pancake batter, and I'll make the sauce?" she suggests.

"No problem."

We work in easy harmony, passing ingredients and checking on each other's progress. I tell Bella briefly about my evening – leaving out the details of my conversation with Jasper, which I need to think about some more when I'm alone. She stiffens slightly, but says nothing, when I mention Leah's eagerness to know about what she's been up to. I decide not to push the subject, and Bella soon relaxes as she watches her sugar turn to caramel.

Her delightful laughter returns as she watches me attempt to cook the pancakes. Mixing the batter is well within my skill-set, cooking the damn things – not so much. After I drip the batter all over the counter-top for the third time, Bella bumps me out of the way with her hip, shaking her head and taking over cooking duties. Thanks to her competence, it's not time at all before we're seated at the table with two enormous stacks of pancakes absolutely drowning in sauce. They're fucking delicious and I eat way more than I should, but they're just too damn tasty to go to waste.

Bella groans as she pushes her plate away, unable to finish the last third of the stack on her plate. I eye her leftovers covetously, before deciding I would likely explode were I to try and finish them off.

"You wanna watch a movie?" I suggest as we finish stacking the dishwasher, unwilling to bring the night to a close just yet.

"No, not tonight," she says softly. "I think you probably have some questions you want to ask me – am I right?"

I nod, and Bella offers me a small smile. "Let's get this out of the way, then, why don't we?"

I catch her hand as she starts toward the living room, and my hand moves to her chin, tipping it up to encourage her to meet my eyes. "Bella, we don't have to do this. You know that, right? You don't owe it to me, and I don't want to pressure you to tell me anything you're not ready to share."

"I know," she whispers, chewing her lip for a moment, as her eyes search mine. She seems to find whatever she is looking for, because she nods her head once, and her hand moves up to stroke my cheek. "I want you to know me, Edward. I want you to understand."

She leads me out to the couch, curling into the corner of the sofa and pulling her knees up to her chin. I take a seat beside her, anxiety curling in my gut. Sensing that whatever she is going to tell me will not be easy for her to say, I take her hand, linking our fingers together.

"So, uh, when you talked to Leah, did she tell you much about why I left San Francisco?"

"No," I assure her. "I got the feeling she wanted me to ask, but I didn't."

Bella snorts derisively. "I'm not surprised. She and I have very different perspectives on it, and she probably wanted to make sure you knew how wrong I am."

I'm taken aback by the bitterness in Bella's tone. Untangling our fingers, I flip her little hand palm-up, idly tracing patterns across it, as I contemplate my earlier conversation with Leah.

"Why didn't you ask her about it?" Bella asks quietly, drawing me out of my reflections. She watches my finger dance across her palm as I search for the words I need.

"Because I want to learn about you from you, sweetheart. Not from Leah, not from Garrett."

Bella's eyes snap to mine, wide with surprise. Her lips quirk slightly, and her expression shifts as she regards me with a tenderness I've not seen before. "Thank you. Really."

I don't know what to say in response to her heartfelt words, so I simply lean forward to press a soft kiss to her forehead. Bella smiles shyly, ducking her head again.

"Right," she sighs. "Leah … Uh, I've told you about my boyfriend, Jacob, before?"

I murmur an affirmative, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"And, I told you that Jake was sick for a while before he died, but that he hid it from me?" Bella takes a deep breath, and I see the silent sob she tries to suppress rack her body. "Leah's brother, Seth, was one of Jacob's best friends. So, Jake and Leah had always been … close, but, um, I didn't find out until after he died … uh, just how close they were."

Bella sniffles against my chest, and my arms tighten instinctively. I keep my mind carefully blank. "He was," I swallow, "cheating on you?"

"Yeah."

"I'm so sorry," I murmur.

Bella's voice drops to a shaky whisper as my heart clenches. "But what's even worse … I, uh, I found out, several months after he … died, that she knew about his illness, and she'd … she'd convinced him not to t-tell me, Edward. She t-told him … that I wouldn't … u-understand."

Hearing Bella's cries, her desperation, my heart tears in two. Compassion and rage war within me as I pull her shaking body into my lap, rocking her in my arms. I feel powerless to bring her any true comfort. What words could I possibly offer her that would alleviate her pain, even momentarily? My mind flits back to the picture of Jacob in Bella's bedroom, and I wrestle with the wisdom of asking her the question that torments me. Perhaps it's best to ask her now, rather than bringing up the subject again at another time.

"Bella? Sweetheart, is it alright … if I ask you how Jacob, uh, died?"

She responds by fisting her hands in my tee-shirt and sobbing harder. Fuck, I've screwed up. I should have kept my mouth shut – let her tell me on her own terms, when she was ready. Why the fuck did I have to push?

"He killed himself." Bella's whisper leaves me cold. Though I am not overly surprised – I almost suspected as much – hearing her say the words, her voice revealing the depths of her torment, sucks the air out of my lungs. "He had been suicidal for months, apparently … I, uh, I never knew."

"Oh, Bella, I'm so sorry, love." I hold her tight, stroking her hair as she continues to weep, feeling utterly helpless as she clings to me. Slowly, she regains her composure, pulling in shaky breaths.

"He overdosed on sleeping pills, in the September of 2005," Bella tells me quietly. "He, uh, he left me his journal. His dad found it a few days later. So, I, uh, I found out about him and Leah from that. Everyone … I mean, Leah, especially … They all told me it was just physical – just sex – that he really did love me, but uh, he was, I think they called it 'self-medicating' … with sex … and I guess I didn't, uh, give him enough of what he thought he needed." She pauses, sniffling, but her voice remains steady when she continues. "I could forgive Leah for screwing him behind my back … but I just, I can't forgive her for encouraging him to hide what he was going through from me."

"She didn't encourage him to get help?" I ask, appalled.

"No, no. She did. He, uh, he actually started on medication a week before he took his life. Uh, apparently, the medication probably contributed to the suicidal feelings."

"That can happen," I murmur, still playing with her hair absently. "It can take a while to sort out which medication will work best for a person, and even then, in some cases, it can sometimes make things feel worse before they start to get better."

"Right, that's what we were told." Bella sighs. "So, he actually had sought help, and I'm grateful to Leah for that, truly. But I had no clue, Edward. I had no fucking clue about the depths of despair he was living with, the pain he was enduring, the utter hopelessness he was drowning in. He … he felt he couldn't bear it any longer, and so, he opted out. He gave up – he stopped fighting it. And I had no fucking idea of what he was going through. It wasn't until after we buried him, when I sat down with his journal …" She breaks off again, unable to speak through her tears.

"I felt responsible for a long time –"

"Bella –"

"Let me finish, please," she begs. "I know, okay, I know. But the 'what ifs' haunted me for a very long time. What if I'd paid a bit more attention? What if I'd asked him more questions? What if I hadn't been so focused on myself? I understand now that he made the choice to hide it. Leah did the right thing, encouraging him to seek professional help, and I guess, I mean … I will forgive her eventually …"

Bella's fingers toy with a button on my shirt before she sighs and continues. "She doesn't understand why I'm hurt. She could understand me being mad at her for fucking Jacob behind my back. And I was. Finding that out after he'd passed? It killed me. But I was more hurt wondering why she thought I couldn't handle knowing about Jacob's condition. She gave me a lot of bullshit reasons about me being too 'nice' and sheltered, and how I wouldn't have been able to understand what it's like to feel that way, to feel as though having to live each day was an impossible burden … I guess she's probably relieved to hear I'm 'dating' you, Edward, because she would think it shows that I'm moving on."

I consider that as Bella sniffles quietly against my chest. She's right, I suspect. From what she's told me, Leah's relief would likely stem from her wanting to assuage her own guilt – knowing that Bella has begun to move on, to deal with Jacob's death to the point that she's able to open her heart to another man … yes, it makes a lot of sense. If Bella can let go of Jacob, maybe she can let go of her anger toward Leah.

Bella squirms on my lap, as if trying to bury herself deeper into my embrace.

"Two weeks after he died, I found out I was pregnant." Her voice drops to a hoarse whisper, and I feel the cracks in my heart deepen as the story of her suffering compounds. Understanding crashes down on me like a punch to the gut.

"A week later, I miscarried. Our … the baby was about fourteen weeks old, and the miscarriage was probably stress-induced."

"Bella –" What can I say? What comfort can I possibly offer her? Fuck. How can she carry this? How can she bear the weight of so much loss, so much suffering?

"I'd just gotten used to the idea," she sobs. "I was so young. I'd just turned nineteen, but I thought … it was Jacob's baby, you know? Part of him. New life. So, that was actually almost a comfort. But then, when I lost the b-baby … It was like losing Jake all over again. I felt … I felt like such a failure, Edward. Jacob didn't trust me enough to share his illness, my body couldn't provide for our baby … So, I, uh, I ran –"

Bella shakes her head, unable to continue as she loses her fight against the sobs that overtake her. I hold her as tightly as I dare, one of my hands moving to rub her back gently as her body continues to heave and shake. The sounds ripping from her chest are utterly soul-destroying.

"Sh-shh," I say, trying to soothe the broken, devastated girl in my arms. "Shh, Bella."

Finally, with all the pieces in place, I can understand why Bella is so closed-off; why she disappeared to Europe, alone, for almost two years; why she couldn't bear to stay in San Francisco. The fact that she continues to simply function each day is testament to her incredible strength. That she is capable of smiling and laughing, of caring for people – that is nothing short of extraordinary.

Eventually, Bella's cries peter out, and I'm beginning to wonder if she has fallen asleep when her hoarse voice surprises me. "Thank you, Edward."

"Always," I promise her. "I'm here for you, sweetheart."

Bella pulls back, finally meeting my eyes. Her gold-brown eyes are shining with tears, and rimmed in angry red. Her dark hair is a tangled mess, and her face is puffy and salt-stained. Still, I think, she is beautiful.

"Thank you," she rasps again. "Thank you for caring, without pitying me."

I smile and press another kiss to her forehead. I hear Bella's breath catch as my lips meet her skin and I pull back, alarmed. She watches me cautiously, a question I don't know how to answer in her eyes. Her eyes close with an abrupt shake of her head, a pained expression straining her face.

"I need to go to bed," she mutters.

"Will you be able to sleep?" Surely dredging through all these painful memories will make it difficult for her, and I'm worried she will be plagued by nightmares.

Bella tugs on the ends of her hair, her eyes wary. "Will you hold me for a while?" She squeezes her eyes shut, as though she fears my answer. As if I would refuse her anything.

"Of course I will," I assure her, brushing her hair off her face. "Just let me go get changed, alright?"

Bella nods, staggering to her feet. I follow suit, catching her hand and pulling her into a fierce hug before she can disappear on me. I try to infuse everything I wish I had the words to say into my embrace: that I care, that I'll always listen, that I will be … well, I'll be anything she wants me to be.

When I release her, she offers me a weak smile before she turns and walks slowly toward her bedroom. I make quick work of changing into some sweat pants and a clean tee-shirt and scrubbing my teeth, before making my way to Bella's room.

I knock softly on the half-closed door, and enter at Bella's murmured invitation. Her room is dim, bathed only in the low light thrown by the lamp beside her bed. She is sitting on her bed, hugging her legs, her eyes downcast. I take a seat beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

"Are you ready to sleep?"

Bella hesitates, her expression torn. I tilt my head to look at her, concerned.

"Hey," I whisper. "What's going on?"

Bella doesn't answer me. She shakes her head, her body seeming to tense as she wrestles with some internal conflict. I see the resolve crystallize in her expression, yet I'm still taken completely by surprise when she crawls onto my lap and crashes her mouth against my own. There's a fierceness and desperation in her kiss that disarms me and overwhelms me – my defenses overthrown, my lips respond immediately, and my arms wrap around her, holding her close.

Her lips move forcefully against my own, and I surrender to her, as she demands more and more. My fingers tangle into her hair, securing our closeness, as I greedily pull her bottom lip between my own, sucking and nipping at it. I vaguely register the sting as Bella fists the hair at the back of my head tightly, but most of my attention is fixed on her mouth as she deepens our kiss. Lips and tongues and teeth collide with an almost violent intensity as we seek to consume each other.

Without breaking our kiss, I lift Bella from my lap and lay her down on her bed, before settling myself between her thighs. I'm painfully aroused, and when her hips buck against me, I imitate her movement, desperate for friction to ease the steadily throbbing ache in my groin.

It is her frenzied moan that shocks me back to reality and I freeze, panicked, before I try to pull away in alarm. My arms straighten as I push my chest up off Bella's, trying to force some distance between us.

"Bella –" I shake my head, trying to clear away the fog of lust that overwhelms me.

Bella cries out in protest, still rocking her hips against my pelvis. "Please, Edward. Make me feel. Please."

The distress and sheer need in her voice causes my shaky resolve to crumble, and I surrender with a groan, reuniting my lips to hers. This is not about passion or pleasure or enjoying each other – this is pure catharsis, desperate release.

My brief hesitation seems only to have magnified her need, and as my mouth reclaims hers, her fingers claw at my back as she continues to writhe beneath me. Balancing my weight on the elbow that rests beside her head, I lift my pelvis, groaning in pain at the loss of her warmth. My other hand fumbles with the waistband of her yoga pants for a minute before Bella becomes coherent enough to assist me, quickly pushing her both pants and panties down her thighs.

As soon as my fingers begin to explore her slick flesh, her back arches and her hands tug frantically at my hair. Pulling my mouth away from hers, I listen carefully to her moan and pants and whimpers as my fingers seek out all the hidden places that bring her closer to release.

Pushing back onto my knees, I force Bella to release her hold on me. Her hands grasp at the sheets, clenching and twisting them, as I move down her body, and replace my fingers with my tongue. Her fingers find my hair again, holding me close as I lick and nip and suck and drive her to the brink of ecstasy. When my fingers slide inside her, she screams in pained rapture, convulsing and shaking as her climax slams through her body.

My touch softens as she falls, the tremors that wrack her body subsiding. When I hear her deep exhalation, followed by a shaky sob, I crawl back up her body, my heart in my throat. Her sweet face is soaked with sweat and tears, her satiation mixed with utter exhaustion.

I stroke the damp, dark curls away from her face, wiping away the tears that stain her pale cheeks. Her dark eyes are heavy as they watch me, full of an emotion I can't identify. I sit back on my knees, and slip her panties back up over her hips, before easing her sweatpants up her legs.

I hesitate, feeling suddenly nervous. "Do you, uh, do you still want me –"

"Yes," she whispers.

I climb back into bed beside her, dragging the comforter with me. Bella cuddles into my side, her sleepy eyes regarding me. As she moves to throw her leg across my body, she grazes my still painful arousal, causing me to hiss in surprise.

"I'm sorry, I should –"

I cut her off. "Don't worry about it, please."

Bella frowns, blinking slowly.

"Sleep, Bella – it's alright."

She sighs in defeat, her eyes fluttering closed. Within moments, her breathing deepens as she drifts off into sleep. I lie still for a few minutes, watching the shadows cast across her cheek by her long, dark lashes, as I stroke her disheveled hair away from her face.

When I stretch my arm out to switch off the lamp, the photo of Bella and Jacob catches my eye. My mind reels, as the details of our earlier conversation come flooding back. I have had no time to process Bella's revelations this evening, and the chaos that rages inside my head is overwhelming. I click the switch on the lamp, plunging the room into blackness.

I don't expect to fall asleep, with the mental turmoil I'm experiencing combined with my body's unresolved arousal, so I content myself with stroking Bella's soft hair. And yet, there is something so comforting in her warmth beside me, something so soothing in the sweet scent of her skin, that I'm quickly lulled into oblivion.


It's still pitch black when I'm startled awake. I freeze for a moment, disoriented, until I hear the soft sobbing of the broken-hearted girl who sleeps beside me. I gather her into my arms, stroking her hair and making soothing noises until she finally quiets, eased into a deeper slumber.


When I next awaken, the summer sunshine is streaming through the room, catching on the motes of dust that swirl through the air. The space Bella occupied is empty, and my hand immediately searches the place where she should lie. I'm relieved to find it's still warm.

I lie still, listening for the sounds of her moving around the house. I'm just beginning to worry when I hear her muttering to herself, her voice becoming clearer as she approaches.

"Oh, you're awake," she says quietly, shifting her weight – she seems nervous. She's holding two mugs of coffee, and I scramble to sit against the headboard of her bed. I pat the space behind me, and Bella gives me a shy smile as she hands me a mug and climbs in beside me. I wrap my free arm around her shoulders, embracing her as I take a sip of the hot liquid.

"Thanks." My voice is still thick with sleep, and I take another sip of coffee to try and clear my throat. "How are you feeling this morning?"

Bella is silent for a moment, and she stares into her coffee cup with a slight frown on her face. Concerned, I pull my arm from where it lies across her shoulders to touch her chin, silently pleading with her to look at me. I'm terrified that she regrets last night – that in the clear light of morning she will regret allowing me to see into the deepest corners of her sorrow.

"I actually feel okay," she says finally, and I sense she, too, is surprised by her admission. "I expected to feel awful, but I feel … lighter, I guess."

Relief courses through me at her words, and I press a kiss to her cheek.

"What about you?" she asks, her gaze flickers to meet mine before dropping to her lap. "Are you okay?"

I cock my head, confused. "Uh, I'm okay … Uh, why do you ask?"

"Well, I don't imagine it's every night that you have a neurotic girl breaking down in your arms. I know some of the shit I told you is a heavy burden to carry."

"Bella," I sigh. I wonder how I can make her understand, when I'm not even sure I have a grasp on what is happening between us. "You're one of my closest friends, I … I care for you deeply. Knowing you means knowing the things that have happened in your life to make you who you are today – and that's not a burden. It's a privilege."

Bella's face twists with the most peculiar expression, and I wonder briefly if I've said too much, if I'll scare her off with my intensity.

"You never cease to amaze me, Edward. I, uh, I want to know you, too," she says. "I want to know the things that have happened in your life to make you who you are today."

My breath stolen away by her words, I'm unable to speak. I manage a shaky nod, and Bella presses her lips to my cheek. She sighs, before her features transform, and she flashes me a surprisingly brilliant smile.

"So, are you still up to meeting my other lover today?"


I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Shell x