Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or its characters... I just play with them :o)

Chapter 10: Ther-rape-me

BPOV

Pizza was ordered once we had gotten back to Alice and Jasper's apartment. No one had wanted to stay in mine and Edward's any longer than it took for us to grab my newly-packed bag of things and leave. I wondered if it would ever feel like home again, or if it would always be stigmatized as the place I didn't die in, but meant to. For the remainder of the evening no one uttered a word of what had transpired at the apartment. There was a silent agreement to put it in the past, immediately.

Edward and I went to bed without speaking. He held me as tears slipped silently down my cheeks and into the pillow.

As dawn broke, bringing with it a new day, a clean slate, I felt pressure to face some demons. Whether it was the courage to confront Charlie or to attend an art-therapy session, I didn't know. If I were to maintain sanity and prove to his parents that I could care for Edward, I had to woman-up. I had to show that I was better or at least trying to be. Wallowing in my darkness wouldn't suffice.

Like the day before, I got up before Edward and padded into the kitchen. It was earlier than I realized, only 7:30. My stomach rumbled in the all-too-familiar way as I pondered what I could possibly make for breakfast. Unlike yesterday, I had risen before both Alice and Jasper. This time I would be the one preparing the morning meal. Once the coffee was brewing I began to whip up some beignets. As it always happens when I cook, my consciousness became lost within my actions and peace fell upon me. It was a peace I hadn't felt in so long. The peace gave me courage and I knew that I could do what I had set out to do on this day.

Before the smells of the delicious New Orleans' pastry could wake my sleeping family, I got out my cell phone from the pocket of my robe and dialed the familiar number.

It rang only once.

"Bells!?" Charlie cried into the phone. The sheer happiness in his voice almost made me tear up.

"Hi dad."

"Can I see you? How are you? I love you, Bells. I'm so sorry about everything. Can I come over?" If I hadn't been holding onto my anger about the lawsuit I would have conceded a reunion to him right then and there. After all, it wasn't his fault that his daughter went a little bit crazy after her fiancé was apparently killed.

"No dad, not right now. We need to talk," I stated while trying to maintain a calm that was slipping away. "I need to understand a few things."

"Anything. I'm so sorry I kept things from you." He sounded defeated. I had done that to him.

"When did you file the suit against CNN?" I questioned.

"After we discovered that Edward was still alive. It was CNN's report and blatant disrespect towards such a delicate issue that made you do what you did. Esme made me see that. She's right."

"It was Esme's idea!?" Shock was too weak of a word to describe what I felt. Chaos in my mind erupted as I tried to understand what this could possibly mean. I thought back to the day they had all visited me at New Moon—the day I awoke—and remembered the anger emanating from Edward towards his mother. Charlie's words just now sounded foreign on his tongue. They should, after all, because they came straight from Esme's mouth. She had made Charlie her puppet, regurgitating the things she could not say directly herself. But why? Why would Esme be doing these things?

"Well, yea… it was Esme's idea. She was so upset by what had happened, the way you reacted and how it could have been avoided had CNN been responsible in the reporting of this family's tragedy."

"Why didn't Esme file herself?"

"She was not your technical family yet; she had no grounds to sue. I did."

Realization flickered through now. Esme's strange behavior started to reveal itself to me. Esme was dealt the double blow of possibly losing two of her children in one day: her Eddie and his love, me. Attempt after attempt, while still not knowing the full fate of her son, I tried to rip myself from this world and her. She was devastated and heartbroken worse and worse each time I tried and failed. She had no control over anything. When she found out that Edward was still alive, and that my attempts at my own death would have never happened had the accident been reported with more room for the uncertain, she must have nearly lost it with her own grief and frustration. With the revenge only a mother could desire, Esme would have wanted someone to pay for the severing of her family. She couldn't exact her revenge on Paris, but she could lash out in the states at my catalyst.

It all made sense now.

"Do you really think it's a good idea?" I attempted at sounding neutral.

"Bella, news outlets should be more responsible in their reporting. We're in the right here, Bells."

"Fine. Whatever. I'll agree to disagree."

"Don't you want to hear about the progress—"

"No. I'll forgive you for lying to me and keeping me in that institution because of that lie even though I was better, on two conditions."

"Anything!" I could hear the remorse in Charlie's voice. My father was never a fan of fighting. In fact, he abhorred it. It was part of the reason why he gave Renee the divorce so easily: it ended the fighting. For him to actively start a fight with CNN was an indication of how much it meant to him. With my own selfish reasons against it aside, I couldn't take it away from him. He had to do what he had to do in order to stay sane with all of this craziness around us. At least he had done a better job than I.

"Do not talk to me about the lawsuit and do not tell me I need help. When I say that I am able to do something, trust in me that I can. I'll get help on my own for dealing with this mess, but please do not resign me to being crazy. I'm not."

"I know that honey, I do. And I can live with that. I won't mention it. Promise. I love you so much Bells… it killed me to see you like that in that place. I'm so glad you're out and getting better. When can I see you?" He missed me. It saturated his voice. A pang in my chest alerted me to how much I missed my father too. This time, the tears did come.

"Maybe tonight for dinner? I'm not sure dad; I'll have to talk to Edward and Alice. I love and miss you too." Sniffling, I clumsily wiped away the wetness at my eyes with the sleeve of my robe. Through my blurred vision, I became alerted to Alice's petite form rounding the corner of the hallway and entering the kitchen. I turned my back to her, embarrassed of my unchecked emotional display. "I have to go dad, I made breakfast and everyone is starting to come into the kitchen."

"You cooked?—" My dad cut himself off with a grunting, coughing noise. He did that when he was covering up that he was crying. "I'm so happy for you Bells," he managed after a moment of composing himself.

"Thanks dad. I'll call you later ok? Love you."

"Love you more," he added before hanging up. I took a few steadying breaths before turning around and facing Alice. Immediately I was wrapped in Alice's arms.

"That was a hard call to make. I'm so proud of you," she muffled into my shoulder, squeezing me with her surprisingly strong grip. Losing the minute composure I had regained, tears leaked their way out again as I squeezed her back. Relief washed over me. I had made peace with my father… now to only make peace with Rosalie.

Alice pried her head off of my shoulder after a while and sniff, sniff, sniffed. At first I thought she was crying.

"Holy shit! You made beignets!?" and she released me and went to fill her plate with the still warm pastries and grabbed a mug for coffee. Jasper awoke and joined us a few minutes later so I went to go get Edward. His sleeping form was still on his side of the bed where I left him. Rounding the bed, I sat on the edge next to his body. In his sleep, he looked more at peace than I had seen him since his return from Paris and somehow stronger too. I brushed his sleep-matted hair away from his eyes and forehead and was met with the two brilliant emeralds I was searching for.

Edward, his eyes still misty from sleep, reached up and swiped his thumb across my cheek, cupping my face with his hand as he did. His lips, still and serene before, stretched into a large and face-consuming smile of utter joy.

"You had flour on your cheek," he said simply, but it said everything. He was happy to see that my core being was still intact despite the losses we had endured. I nodded in response.

Shifting his weight and propping himself on his elbow, Edward leaned up and kissed the same cheek. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I brought him up to a full sitting position and buried my face in the crook of his neck where is very Edwardy scent was the strongest. I had craved his smell. It intoxicated every cell in my body and set it alive again with a humming delight. He smelled like very sun: masculine and strong musk with the sweetest hint of honey and sawdust. I inhaled it until I was satiated and then leaned up to reverently kiss the pink scar on his cheek.

"What did you make?" His curiosity broke the comfortable silence.

"Beignets." Upon hearing this, Edwards eyes lit up again, but this time with physical hunger. "And I made coffee for café-au-lait too."

"You are," he said as he kissed each corner of my mouth, "the best," he finished as he kissed my lips chastely. Helping Edward into his wheelchair was a little easier this time, but would have been impossible without the help he gave me. I still had to build my strength back and then some if I were to take over caring for him full-time.

Breakfast between the four of us was another normal meal event. It was both funny and odd to me how such normal things made the biggest impact on me now that I was out of the loony-bin. Breakfast there was a nightmare and had been anything but normal.

Laughter and proclamations at how scrumptious of a meal it was, was heard all around Alice's perfectly decorated breakfast table. Once everyone had set down their fork saying something to the extent of I'm so full I could burst, Alice nonchalantly asked every one of their plans for the day. Alice and Jasper had their first Friday morning classes of the new semester but would be back in time to take Edward to his physical therapy appointment at one-thirty.

"I, uh…" I attempted. "I have art therapy at one-thirty as well," I finished timidly. I didn't know why I was all of the sudden feeling embarrassed after everything we had gone through thus far.

"Perfect!" Alice tinkled. "Jazz can take Edward, I can take you, and then we can all meet up for milkshakes after! This couldn't have worked out better even if I had planned it!" Chuckles were heard around the table and soon the two that were still in college left for class. Edward and I were left alone for the first time since I got out of New Moon.

I looked to Edward and found his eyes already studying me. There were so many unanswered questions, so many stories untold between us, but now was not the time for them. One day I would ask him to tell the story of how he came to be in this wheelchair and the hellish ordeal he endured while in Paris, but today would not be that day. We needed to keep strong and save our strength for the appointments we both had later that day. I couldn't even pressure Edward to have sex because I couldn't handle the inevitable rejection because, to him, I was still so thin and weak.

For a while we laid together on the couch, his arms wrapped tightly around me, watching whatever was on TV. At first we chatted about nothing important, and Edward would plant kisses on the top of my head every once in a while. Not that I minded the quiet, it was nice to just be without a purpose, but a thought kept nagging at my brain.

"Edward?" I asked, turning my head to look at him.

"Mm?" he hummed with his eyes still resting shut.

"Do you still want to marry me?" I asked, unsure of whether or not I wanted the answer.

"What!? Are you crazy?" His eyes shot open and his face contorted into some sort of shock.

"Please don't say that." My eyes clenched at the word and threatened to spill over with tears.

"Oh, shit! I'm sorry Bella, you know I didn't mean it like that. I meant that of course I still want to marry you. I pledged my life to you. I just…" he stopped, losing himself in thought. "I hope you can accept me as damaged goods. I can't be the sort of strong husband you need. I'm a cripple." His self-loathing could not have been more obvious even if he had said the words I hate myself.

"Edward! How dare you. How dare you belittle the courage and inner strength it has taken for you to put yourself back together again!" I was sitting up now, in my impassioned anger. "You are worth loving. A body is just a body; a vessel of the soul and your soul is unmarred." Sometimes, I could speak of Edward as if he were poetry. My love for him did that to me.

I searched Edward's eyes as he was rendered speechless by the conflict of emotions he was surely feeling. I couldn't name them, but I could see them as if they were clearly written on his still very beautiful face. His emotions warred until they seemingly became resolved into one. Guilt. His guilt ate at me.

"You don't have to stay with me because of guilt," I softly spoke after a moment or two, unsure of what I should be saying. "I promise I won't try to kill myself again. You're not obligated to stay. I'd understand if you-y-you couldn't love me after what I did," I finished with a sob. My body shook with more and I wanted nothing more than to run away from Edward sitting on the couch, but I knew I couldn't because he couldn't chase me.

He would never even walk again.

Thinking this, I cried some more. Edward's strong arms engulfed me once more, and he spoke soft, loving words to soothe me. After a while, I calmed, and was able to discern what he was saying to me.

"My love for you is stronger than anything I've ever known. The guilt I feel is for my own self-pity. I felt guilty pitying myself because I still had so much to be thankful for and at the center of that is you. Your love is redeeming, it is healing, and I cherish it more than anything in this world. Without you, I could not live. Without you, I would die. There is no place for me in a world in which you do not exist. You almost dying is the single greatest tragedy I will ever face and it only makes me cling to you that much harder. You've never seen yourself very clearly, Bella. You've never thought yourself deserving of love, but you're wrong. You were made to love and be loved. My greatest accomplishment is loving you. Look at me, Bella." I did. "You're right. I am strong and courageous… because I have you."

It was a lovely speech. Perhaps he embellished some of the more flowery details about me, but it helped dismantle my own momentary insecurities about him feeling obligations toward me. I couldn't speak but to say that I loved him. This time, when he kissed me, he gave it passion. I saw stars and my heart beat in ways that my body was unused to from the months I had spent in a mental slumber. Before we both were taken to our individual appointments, Edward sought to give me one last encouragement.

"Chin up, love," he called as he rolled through the front door.

"Stay strong," I called back. We both needed the affirmations. He was headed for another physically and somewhat spiritually grueling physical therapy session and I was going back to New Moon.

.::.

"Bella! I'm so glad you've made it!" Jake called as I passed through the art room door. His face beamed like a ray of sunshine. Somehow, he was one of those people that just exuded happiness and positivity. I returned his greeting with my own sheepish smile.

The experience of going back to New Moon was… upsetting and yet simply bizarre. I had felt as though I'd aged a hundred years since making the beignets that morning, particularly after sneaking past the paparazzi and into the back entrance again. Apparently they had yet to discover that I had been released. The facilities smelled the same and the art room was filled with similar, if not the same, weirdo patients it had been filled with the last time I had been in it. Somehow the art room had managed to not only smell like the musty, wooden smell of art supplies, but also the sterile, chemical smell of the psychiatric facility that housed it.

Jake led me over to the table I had occupied during my last visit.

"Since this is the only form of therapy that you'll be receiving, I thought we'd switch things up a bit. That ok?" he asked. Though he was polite enough to phrase it as a question, I knew that there wasn't much of a choice. He was, after all, my therapist.

"Sure," I replied, feeling a little apprehensive.

In front of me, Jake had laid a piece of drawing paper before taking his seat across from me on the thin side of the long rectangular table. "Pick your media." This time I opted for the graphite pencil. Rejoining Jacob in my seat, I awaited for my next instructions.

"You're going to draw while we talk. Don't focus on the drawing itself. Focus on your feelings, on what we're discussing, and how it feels when you use your hands to draw. Sound cool?"

"Alright… what do you want to talk about?" I was at a loss.

"Tell me about yourself."

"You tell me about yourself," I responded a little snarkily.

"Bella," he chuckled, shaking his head.

"Well… I have a hard time opening up to people I don't know. Maybe if you give a little, so will I," I offered.

"Compromise. I like that. We'll go back and forth like that, then. Are you comfortable with that?" He asked. I nodded my response. "Ok. I'll start. I was born with a twin brother."

"I am an only child," I replied, my hand starting to work at the paper. Think about my hand… it feels good to draw?

"My brother was hit by a car," he spoke without emotion, though his eyes seemed to convey that he knew was he was doing, the buttons he would push.

"My fiancé was hit by a car."

"My brother died."

"My fiancé is a paraplegic."

"I did lots of drugs."

Tit.

"I tried to kill myself."

For tat.

"I became addicted to heroin."

Tit.

"…Three times."

For tat.

"My parents divorced."

Tit.

"Mine did too."

For tat.

"It wasn't my fault."

Tit.

"It was my fault."

For tat.

"I'm going to stop you there, Bella. Firstly, look at your drawing."

When I looked down, I saw an abstract blur. Though it was seemingly carefully rendered—each stroke of the pencil holding a secret meaning—it was filled with angry, jagged lines. I felt my eyes widen as I lifted them back up to the caramel-brown ones mine had just left.

"You see that you're holding onto a lot of anger, right?" he knowingly questioned.

"I guess."

"Why do you think your parent's divorce was your fault?"

"It wasn't really… I mean, how could it have been? I was six. I was a child."

"Then why did you say it was your fault?"

"Maybe… maybe because it sort of felt that way at the time. It felt like I was being punished for something. I don't know. When you're six and you feel like you're being punished, you sort of take the blame and deal with it."

"How did you deal with it?"

"I didn't. I just got over it."

"How?"

"I don't fucking know! Time?"

"Ok. Hold that thought, and get back to drawing. I'm going to check on the other patients for a moment. We'll continue in a bit," he said without the slightest hint of anger or annoyance as he got up.

Though it felt like mere seconds, I assumed that full minutes had passed since Jake's departure based upon the progress of my drawing when he returned. I wouldn't actually call it a drawing anymore. It sort of developed into more of a doodle. When he sat down, he studied my work.

"You're over-thinking it. You're letting your mind be clouded. Knowing what I know about your skills, you're letting this thing become more of a doodle than a piece of art."

He was right. Even though he had just insulted my drawing, I couldn't be mad because he was right. It was now a fucking doodle.

"I need your help," I huffed after shoving my art supplies to the side. He gave me a pointed look as if to say Obviously! That's why you're here.

"Help will always be given to those who ask." Cryptic.

"I need to make someone forgive me for what I've done, but I'm at a loss as to how," I confessed after a brief staring contest.

"Who do you need to apologize to and what did you do to upset them?"

"My best friend Rosalie, because I tried to kill myself… duh!"

Again I was met with a glance infused with meaning.

"Her… mom died by suicide when she was a teenager. Not only is Rose upset with me, but I've pushed her into a dark, dark hole that she wanted never to return."

"Ahh, I see," he said, sounding like a therapist for the first time. "Humor me, but have you tried calling? Saying you're sorry? You know, the usual simple approaches?"

"Yes. She has ignored my calls and then the only time she talked to me on the phone was to yell at me and call me a coward, which I was."

"Hmm," he paused in thought. "Write her a letter. It's simple yet effective and you can say everything you're feeling. She can read it when she's ready."

"Ok." I found the idea immediately agreeable and wondered why I hadn't yet thought of that myself, but shrugged it off.

"There's a lot of inner conflict going on with you, Bella. It's not just your fiancé's accident, and it's not your attempts to die. It stems further than that. You feel dually about yourself at all times. I'd like to explore that further in our sessions alright?" Jake summed, sounding again like a therapist.

"Ok." With my somewhat of a commitment, Jacob checked his watch.

"Well, Bella, the time has come 'the walrus said'" he paused to chuckle at his reference to a book characterized with insanity. "See you Monday?" Jacob was odd, but I liked it.

"Yep."

.::.

I had been waiting in the designated spot for Alice for over ten minutes. Alice was never late and I was extremely frustrated. Deciding not to waste my time sitting and waiting, I walked around the insides of New Moon in an attempt to both keep busy and to avoid the stupid media savages outside. Easily I found myself in my old ward roaming its stark and unfriendly walls. The overhead florescent lights buzzed the same as they had when I was held captive under them. When I arrived at the familiar door, I knew where my feet were carrying me.

The only thing left to do was to knock.

I was greeted by Victoria's beautifully strawberry-blonde self. When she realized it was me, she actually smiled; a vast improvement over the last time I had seen her.

Awkward and a little guilty for how I left things, I said "hi" timidly. Victoria, not one to let things fester, hugged me immediately. It was the first time we had ever hugged.

"Vicky!" I exclaimed, too happy to see her to say anything else.

"Bella," she replied upon releasing me, "what are you doing back here? I thought they let you out?"

"They did. I had art therapy today and I wanted to see you." She smiled again.

"Want to come in?"

"Sure." I had never been in her room before. She and Tanya had always come to mine. Even in here, I was a bad friend. Apparently I had no concern for anything or anyone. I tried to recall those feelings again, the thoughts that went through my mind, but it was much too painful. My world then, just a few short days ago, was filled with pain and gray. How beautiful it was to now be able to see colors again, particularly my favorite shade of green.

Vicky's room was similar to the one I had: stark white walls, buzzing overhead lights, chain-link covered window. Instead of hospital-grade-white plain bedding, Victoria had deep plumb sheets and down comforter, a testament to how long she was to stay here. There was makeup items scattered across the surface of her dresser and a few older issues of magazines at the foot of her bed. Had I spent any time in this room while under my own imprisonment, perhaps I would have felt a little more normal. She had been allowed to stick posters to the wall, ones that the staff had deemed appropriate.

"So when are you getting married?" she asked once I had sat on the edge of her bed.

"Oh, uhm… I don't know. There's a lot to figure out, like his last semester of school, my culinary school… we need to handi-proof our apartment," I thought aloud. I hadn't really thought much about the finer details yet. I was just trying to enjoy my time out of New Moon that I hadn't really considered any sort of plan for the future.

"Handi-proof?" Victoria asked, interrupting my thoughts.

"Handicap-proof… Edward is in a wheelchair for life." Upon hearing this, her face dropped.

"Oh my god," she paused, "from the accident?" had I not told her this last time? I guess it wasn't important then; I was just so happy that he was alive at all. I was still glad that he was even alive at all, I was just was more realistic about the limitations his wheelchair brought.

"Yea, but it's alright. He goes to physical therapy and gets stronger. When I'm more recovered physically they're going to show me some caretaker moves and exercise."

"Wow. That's heavy."

"I guess, but that's life, right?"

"Hard is the only way I know!" She laughed, and I joined in. Wasn't that the truth?

"Bella? Bella where are you? I'm sorry I was late!" I heard Alice calling from the hallway.

"Shit, my ride is here, but it's been good to see you! I'll stop in Monday after my next art therapy ok?"

"You better!" She said as she hugged me goodbye.

.::.

"I said I was sorry! Traffic was a bitch while trying to avoid the hoards of paparazzi outside of New Moon," Alice said over chocolate milkshakes. It was to Edward she was apologizing. He was the one that was upset with my absence.

"Ally, it's fine. Let it go darlin'," Jasper comforted. Alice rolled her eyes and gave a pointed glance at Edward, as if to say satisfied?

"It's fine Al. I forgive you," Edward huffed. I grabbed his hand next to me and gave it a squeeze.

"So how was—" he and I said at the same time and stopped, giggling a little.

"Aw, you two. Still so cute and in-sync five years later," Alice gushed. This time I rolled my eyes.

"So how was physical therapy?" I asked, ignoring Alice's comment. For some reason it annoyed me.

"Fine. Eleazar said that I could have the weekend off after the great progress I've made through the week," Edward shrugged.

"Time off for good behavior, eh? I like." I smiled to him, showing rather than telling how proud I was of him.

"So how about you, B? How was art therapy?" Edward asked, slightly turning in his chair to better look at me.

"Fine," I replied, looking at my milkshake, picking at the straw with my fingers.

"Fine? That's it? That's all I get: a non-committal fine?" he badgered. Exasperated, I met his eye-contact with my own.

"What do you want to know? It was fine. I drew and was asked questions, so I answered them. It didn't really feel like therapy which is fine by me." This time I shrugged. "Jake says I'm angry."

"Who's Jake?" Edward pried. His expression became muddled. Alice and Jasper didn't appear to be as interested in the conversation as Edward and began talking on their own.

"My art therapist."

"Oh." Edward furrowed his brow, almost as if he was concentrating on something. "So he's just some old hippy-ass art therapist?"

"No. He's younger." I could tell where Edward was going with this.

"What's he like? What does he look like?"

"He's nice, a little strange though. He's tall and earthy in almost a medicine man sort of way. Maybe that's why he's an art therapist, he likes to heal people," I responded, trying not to provoke Edward's jealousy. Edward had been jealous of other guys before, but not as quickly as this. Edward was only ever jealous after the guy had hit on me and usually he was easily placated with sex. I was never interested in any guy other than Edward and deep down, he knew it. Before the accident, Edward's jealousy was sort of a sexy game we would play, but now it seemed almost to be real.

"Do you find him attractive?"

"Edward! I hardly see how this could be of any importance." If Alice and Jasper knew what was going on between Edward and me, they made no show of it.

"Answer the question Bella."

"I suppose he's good-looking, but am I attracted to him? No. He's my art-therapist and I only see him in that capacity. I love you, I'm attracted to you."

"He sounds like the perfect specimen of a man," Edward replied icily. I couldn't let this nonsense go on any longer. Edward was becoming an emotional wreck, much like how I was after the accident and before I found out he was alive.

"Edward, look at me," I requested. It looked as though he was studying the hands in his lap, but I could tell that he was really staring at his seemingly useless legs. Slowly, Edward turned his head towards mine. There was fear in his eyes and a sort of anguish on his face. "Is this because you're in a wheelchair?" Distress erupted all over his face. It contorted in a silent pain that I was sorry to have caused, but the question I had posed was necessary. He needed, we needed, to get past this.

"What?" his voice almost broke.

"Edward," I pleaded.

"I mean…" he started. He heaved a sigh of frustration and surrender. "I guess it is." Edward looked away from me and out the drizzle-filled window for several seconds and turned back to me. "It's like all of the confidence I had is gone. I used to be sort of cocky, you know? Now, I can't help second guessing why you'd even stick with a cripple like me. I know that you love me, but sometimes that small inner voice tells me I'm not worth it," he whispered. It was so soft that even if Alice and Jasper had been listening, they wouldn't have heard.

"Edward, I can't keep doing this. I can't keep telling you how amazing you are and how perfect and handsome and strong and brave and talented… It's exhausting and I'm still weak myself. I love you, and I'll be at your side until the end of time, you know that. I," I paused, weighing the words carefully. "I think that maybe you should get some therapy too, you know, for your mind."

His expression was not angry; it was not sad or frustrated. It was surrender. Edward was surrendering the mental burden that he had been carrying.

"You might be right," was all he said. It was all he needed to say. He finished his milkshake as Alice and Jasper deemed it appropriate to join the conversation. They discussed unimportant things to us while Edward and I sipped our milkshakes in silence. When Jasper went to get the car and Alice went to pay, Edward grabbed my wrist as I was removing myself from the booth. His face was set with a mustered resolve.

"I love you. You are always beautiful to me, but I think you should see a physician because your body is scarily thin," he said with all the love and support he could manage, which was endless. As I looked down at myself, I finally saw my body through Edward's eyes. My usually small breasts were all but gone, I could count the ribs on my chest, and my clothes draped and drowned my now-tiny frame. My arms were thin and I could see a small, blue, ivy-like network of veins through my nearly translucent skin. My bones appeared to sharply protrude from my paper-thin skin. If I looked like this now, I was scared to imagine what I looked like just a few days ago.

I was a walking, talking corpse.

.::.

A/N: I'm back! It's back! No, this story is not going into the delete bin.
No, I'm not abandoning this little fic.

This story is one that takes time. The characters deserve their time.

I hope you enjoyed the update.

Rec & Review!

::FabulousiTyxXx::