Ah! I've been soooo busy! But here's an update. Its' kind of short, but I've been working on my newer story more than this one. P.S. I am starting the outtakes of "Without You" and they will be called "When I had You".

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BPOV, May 2009:

He thought I was asleep.

"Renée, I don't know if I can handle her anymore….I don't know what in god's name I should do with her." Charlie snapped, pacing the living room.

I had cursed the thin walls of our house many times, and tonight as no different. I couldn't help how I was acting. Nobody could see that I was still healing; that I was still terrified. All those things James and said and done to me are tearing into my mind and slowly picking me apart.

My friends didn't talk to me anymore. I didn't eat very often and barely left the house. School was mandatory, but it was a struggle to drag myself out of bed every single day.

I was hurting, and nobody understood.

I didn't want to walk to a therapist; I wanted to take to somebody who listened because they wanted to, not because it was their job. And Charlie certainly wasn't a shoulder to cry on. Each and every day I felt more and more alone. Charlie had taken extra shifts- probably to avoid me, and fished a lot more. He tried to persuade me to go hang out with my old friends, but they didn't understand either. They all wanted to know about what had happened with James, and grilled me constantly for answers. I kept ignoring their phone calls, texts, and attempts to talk….and then they stopped coming.

Reading and music used to be an outlet for me; and I tried to immerse myself in music and literature. But some days, I just couldn't bring myself to pick up a book or turn on my iPod.

"If she doesn't get better by September, I'm sending her to Forks to live with you. Maybe she needs her mother." Charlie hissed into the phone.

Yeah right. Charlie just didn't want to deal with me. He didn't know how to deal with me. He couldn't relate, and he was too afraid of emotional displays to attempt to talk to me.

In June, I started having panic attacks. They were brought on by the smallest things; being startled by the simplest of things, a man touching my arm, hearing music that reminded me of that what James had done to me, to my body, that night. It was torture, not knowing the next time I would snap. Some days I could tell something was coming, but others I was taken completely off guard and by surprise.

This was pure hell.

Living in unnecessary fear. James was gone, locked up. He was never going to hurt, touch, or even come near me again. So why did I keep torturing myself like this?

Because deep down, I knew that James would eventually come to find me again. And this time, he would stop for nothing.

A/N: Don't hate me for the short chapter! This was just a look into Bella's mind before she met Edward. Please review, and I will produce a much longer, much more interesting chapter tomorrow.

Xoxo- Melodyella aka Mellie