M E S S Y
cHaPtEr 7
I was shaking, holding onto the steering wheel with white knuckles, breathing hard, frightened. My eyes were wide and unblinking as I gasped for air from the run.
I should have known.
Every person has bad moments, bad days, even bad weeks. It shouldn't have surprised me that someone this emotionally unstable would be more…prone to those moments.
But damn, it had scared me good.
I was being utterly absurd, of course, and I knew it. There was no reason to be scared. Everyone freaked out occasionally. He hadn't meant to hurt me.
I looked down at the thin trail of blood running down my arm. It hadn't completely set in until that moment that I was bleeding at all. I started to feel faint. I pulled my sleeve up over the offending liquid and breathed through my mouth.
I was still in the hospital parking lot, maybe I should just go in and ask for some gauze…
But he was being discharged soon. I might run into him. No, I'd take my chances.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
That morning had started normally. I'd gotten up, showered and dressed, fixed breakfast, done menial chores around the house, and cooked something for Charlie's dinner all before noon. Then I grabbed my jacket and slid my feet into my rain boots. I went out to the truck and started it, wishing for the first time that I had a newer car with a heater that worked.
I rubbed my arms for friction and headed off, trying to ignore the chattering of my teeth.
It wasn't long before I was pulling into my usual spot in the parking lot—in the corner of the lot under the shelter of a huge sycamore tree—and walking through very familiar doors. I got my visitor sticker and slapped it onto my sweater, heading for the elevator up to Edward's room.
I'd gotten to the nurse's station on that floor when I knew something was wrong.
First of all, no one was in the station. A phone was ringing, and there was no one to answer it. They had to be somewhere, so I looked around. I contemplated answering the phone myself, but not only would that probably get me into trouble, but I wouldn't know what to say or how to help the person on the other line. I left it alone and headed for Edward's door.
I stopped in my tracks as I heard a loud crash, like something metal hitting the floor. I jumped nearly a foot in the air, my eyes wide from the startling noise. It only made the shock worse realizing that the sound had come from Edward's room.
I rushed up to the door and opened it, hoping that I didn't see the worst, pushing away images of his face lying cold and unmoving.
On the contrary, he was quite alive. Alive, and kicking. Literally.
Two nurses were trying to coerce him out of his bed. Their tone suggested begging, and his suggested threats.
"Back away!" He warned them. "I don't want to be treated anymore! I want to go home and die!" His eyes were wide and crazed. They looked a little bloodshot, as though he hadn't slept.
One of the nurses noticed me enter the room. "Good," she said under her breath before turning to her companion. "I'll go get more help." She barreled past me and out the door. The other nurse threw a frantic, pleading look my way, and I knew it was up to me to calm Edward down.
But just how to do that?
"Edward, what—"
"Shut up! Just shut up! I don't want to hear another word come out of your mouth! You think you can just come in here and try and fix me! Well, you can't!" It was only then that I noticed he was within reach of sharp objects. A knife lay on his bedside table, unnoticed by him and the nurse. I dove for it, reaching across the bed.
"What the hell?" He shouted, and pushed me away from him. I cried out as my hand landed on the blade, leaving a long, shallow cut on the outside of my arm. I knocked the knife to the floor and retreated back against the opposite wall.
"Please…calm down!"
"No!" He fisted his hands in his hair. "I'm a monster! None of you people realize that! If you knew, you'd let me die! Why can't you understand?"
"Understand, what, Edward? I don't know what you're talking about. If you'd just tell me—" He grabbed his pillow and tossed it at my head. It hit me square in the face and then fell to the ground. Next he reached for the book on his table. He chucked it at my head, and I only just missed getting hit.
In desperation, I held my hands out to show I was unarmed. "Edward, please. You're scaring me. I just want to help."
"You can't." He chuckled darkly and reached for something else—a bowl. "There's no way to help me now. I'm a monster and that will never change. Now get OUT!" He threw the bowl, and it hit me above my left eyebrow. It was going to bruise, but there would be no permanent damage.
"Stop it! You're not a monster!"
"How would you know? You don't know me!"
"I'm trying, Edward, if you'd just let me!" I inched closer, using my arms to shield myself from any other projectiles he could launch my way. "I want to get to know you! That's why I'm here!" There was nothing else he could throw, so he desperately looked for anything to keep me away. I looked to the nurse for help, but she was busy rifling through a drawer of syringes. I approached the bedside and looked down at him. "Edward, please."
He stopped for the briefest of moments and looked into my eyes. I thought he was going to listen for a miniscule fraction of a second, but no sooner had I thought that than he reached for his wrists.
"Don't move," he told me. I stopped. My knees were pressing into the side of the bed anyway. "Isabella," he said, looking straight at me, "I am going to die. Whether it be sooner or later, it is going to happen. Now STOP trying to get in the way!" In one swift movement he tore the bandages from his wrists and I saw his scars. I gasped.
There were at least ten on each arm, possibly more. Each was long and deep, and some looked as thought they were still oozing. The stench hit me first and I almost collapsed. I clamped a hand over my nose and watched him carefully. He tore the other wad of gauze off as well, tossing the two bundles into the corner. "Stop trying to interfere."
His fingers spasmed. They looked like they were itching to do something, to scratch and itch, or…
To tear his scars open again.
His fingernails were long and sharp and it took no time at all for the first one to be opened fully. Blood cascaded down his forearm like a waterfall and it took everything I had not to throw up.
"Stop it!" I screeched. The nurse was coming now with what I hoped was a sedative. She injected it into his IV, and a look of relief crossed her face.
"What did you do?" He shouted. "Drugs? More drugs?" His fingers fumbled around the tube in his arm and ripped it free messily. I almost lost it again. The nurse was freaking out now.
"I can't give him anything else unless I inject it directly into him, and he'll never let me get near him! We just have to wait for security…" I prayed they'd be here soon. In the meantime, Edward went back to ripping his arms open.
I lost it then. I threw up in the corner from the smell. I wiped my mouth on my sleeve and turned back to him. "Edward, stop it!"
"No!" His fingers never faltered. "I'll do it! This time I won't fail!"
Still gagging with dry heaves, I hurried back to the bed, reaching out with my arms. I pressed my clean sleeve to the open wound. He wrenched his arm from my grasp and pushed me away. I persisted, dragging his arm away from his other hand, refusing to let him hurt himself any further. He swatted at me with his free arm, but I dodged it and crawled up onto the side of the bed, pinning his bloody arm down. He tried to get around me, but couldn't.
I hadn't noticed the hot tears on my cheeks. "Edward, STOP!" I sobbed. "Please!"
He did not comply. He still struggled, but I'd held him down long enough for security to get there. Two big men pinned his arms down while someone else rebandaged them. Then, once his scars were safely swathed, handcuffs secured him to the bed. A nurse pumped him with sedatives and his face took on a lethargic look. His eyelids drooped and he was out in minutes.
I left the room as soon as I could, having witnessed more than enough. Now I knew what a "bad day" was like for him. I made a mental note to prepare myself better next time.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
After I got over my sickness, I drove home and cleaned myself up. Another shower, another outfit, and a clean jacket. Stubbornly, I hopped into my truck and headed back to the hospital, determined to see him again. If his little show back there was to deter me, it wasn't going to work. I wouldn't give up.
I waked into the lobby hurriedly and down the hall, taking the stairs instead of the elevator this time. In front of his room stood two people—Mr. Banner and a doctor. I overheard a snippet of their conversation.
"There's nothing more we can do. He refuses the psyche meds, he won't accept counseling, and there seems to be no convincing him. I'm afraid there's nothing else I can do but discharge him. He's making no progress here."
"Alright. His family want him to remain a part of the program. I'll need his home address if you're at liberty to give it to me…oh, Isabella." The doctor went to retrieve the information. Mr. Banner looked at me with sympathy. "I was so worried you were hurt." I shook my head. "Well, he's sleeping now, so I think it would be best if you just went home. If you stop by the Center tomorrow, I'll have his new address. I'd give him a day or two to adjust to life back home, though, just to be on the safe side."
I nodded and left without another word. I'd made it to the lobby before I heard someone calling my name. I planed to ignore whoever it was and keep walking, still a littlee shaken by my day, but the voice was getting closer and closer and seemed oddly familiar, and…
"Bella!"
"Oh. Hello, Mike."
"I heard what happened." He looked sympathetic. "That sounds rough."
"You have no idea." I sighed.
"So, listen, I know this is weird timing, but I was wondering if maybe you needed a distraction. Something to take your mind off this whole mess."
I stiffened. "Mike, I told you, I'm not looking for a relationship right—"
"I know, I know. I was thinking more along the lines of coffee. As friends. Nothing more. I just want to help you relax. You looked stressed."
His intentions seemed good, and his face was one of sincerity and hope, so I gave in and agreed.
"But JUST coffee."
Talking about what had been happening sounded like just the thing I needed.
A/N: Gah. I got NO sleep last night. It's currently half past eleven in the morning and I just finished this. I was planning on going out with someone at noon, but the weather made me postpone it till later in the afternoon, and so I am going to go sleep now. Please enjoy this, review, and anticipate the next chapter. This one was exciting, but the next time you see Edward it will be in the CULLEN HOUSE!
