AN:
As always, I own my original plotline and elements for Tattoos Like Mile Markers, SM owns all things Twilight, and I'm at casket4myfanfic on Twitter. I sadly do not yet own a Thunder Rats t-shirt (see this link: www[dot]emilieautumn[dot]com/thunderrats[dot]html)
Reminder: Doucheward and Bitchella have a Twitter as well (and a blip fm) - ForkedUp would be where it's at. I have been poking them to post more often, so come play!
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?"
"What?" Bella snapped angrily, immediately bowing her head in guilt. "Sorry. I'm edgy."
Michelle nodded, "It's okay. Is the Clonazepam helping at all with the anxiety?"
Bella sighed. "Yes? I guess? It's hard to tell when things just keep getting shittier by the day."
Michelle contemplated this a moment, "What about the Wellbutrin? Have you noticed any improvements yet? Side effects?"
Wellbutrin XL was the drug Michelle had added to the mix two weeks prior, just after Bella's birthday. Thus far, nothing really seemed better, although it wasn't affecting her in any bad way, either. Carlisle had said it could take a few weeks, especially if they dose was still being adjusted, so she'd continued to pop the little white tablets each morning at Edward's behest.
"Nothing on both counts. I'm so fucking sick of this!" Bella groaned, kicking the ground with her sneaker. "After all of these years, we still haven't invented a goddamn mood enhancer that works in less than a month? It's bloody pathetic! I hate psychiatry. I hate the whole goddamn thing!"
By this point, Bella was nearly screaming, oblivious to Michelle's shifting backwards in her chair. A part of her knew, somewhere, that none of this was Michelle's fault, but it didn't matter anymore. Therapy just made her feel crappier, it seemed. It was as if each session was a sadistic killer's torture, tearing a new limb or organ asunder and displaying it for Bella to lament in her agony. And Bella was tired of her butchered parts, tired of blood on her hands.
At least this fucking blood is mine.
"We haven't cured cancer either, Bella," Michelle said softly. "But I agree; I wish it was far more precise than it all is. I hate seeing my clients suffer. Some of them go through three medications, weaning on and off, to find a solution. All I can do is give you support for the meantime."
"That's one fucking hour a week! What about the other, fuck, hundred and forty-something hours? I'm stuck with all this shit in my brain, looping and looping until I can't see anything but a bloody razor in my mind. Look!" Bella shrieked, pushing up the sleeve of her t-shirt, revealing a long, angry scrape. "I did that with my goddamn nails, trying not to slice myself up. Isn't therapy supposed to make me feel better?"
Bella stormed over to the bookshelf in the corner, yanking a textbook from the top shelf. "Isn't this supposed to have answers? Something helpful? God fucking damn it all!" Dropping to the ground, Bella hugged her knees, tossing the book aside, silent tears streaming down her cheeks.
Kneeling beside her, Michelle softly spoke, "It always gets worse before it gets better. Anger is good, Bella. You have been hurt deeply and you need to get very, very pissed off at how much pain you've had to endure and cope with."
"I don't want it to be worse," Bella whispered. "I can't take any more. I'm so tired..."
"What's hurting the most today, Bella? Give me some of the anger. I'll help carry it today."
Bella grimaced, staring at her shoes, "The demons won't stay in the past. Edward's going to find out."
"Has someone hurt you recently?"
"There was this thing... I guess I didn't realize that the wounds were still raw for them, too... I thought me going away was enough."
Michelle's hand reached out for her, strands of jet-black hair tumbling across her glasses, "Would you like to sit in the chair and tell me?"
Bella shook her head furiously, "I wanna stay here."
"Okay then," Michelle replied, moving to sit a few feet away, her legs crossed daintily. "Whose wounds are raw?"
"Jake's. Leah's too, I guess, considering how angry she was at the club... God, I hate that bitch! She's horrible to everyone; who's she to talk?"
"Which club was Leah at?"
Bella sighed, "We went to Paper Moon, in Port Angeles. It was supposed to be this celebration of me doing my first tattoo, that sort of deal. I didn't want a big deal, but it was nice to drink and blow off steam. Leah..." Bella shuddered slightly, remembering the enraged visage, "Leah blew her steam off at me in the bathroom."
"I know how angry you are with yourself for this situation that happened with Jacob. Having to handle a confrontation like that must have been difficult."
Bella nodded, choking back a sob, "I wish she'd just punched me and walked away. Because you know, I deserve that. Physical pain, I can take. Obviously," Bella snorted, fingers tracing a jagged scar along her left forearm. "But to hear her say what she said, it was like.. Fuck... Michelle, everything I fear they think of me is very true. They hate me. The whole tribe. And of course they hate me! Why wouldn't they? I cost them one of their own, all because of poor me, poor broken Bella and her stupid attention-getting angst!"
Michelle handed Bella a box of Kleenex from her desk, "Did you tell Edward what happened?"
"No! No, I can't tell him... I can't... And then the dreamcatcher? No, I can't..."
"A dreamcatcher?" Michelle eyed her questioningly. "I'm sorry, Bella; there's a dreamcatcher?"
Bella blew her nose loudly, crumpling the tissue and letting it fall in her lap. "Yeah. A birthday gift from Leah, I think. It belonged to Rachel. They left it in the shop. Ronan called Jake, even though I told him not to. It was so... cruel."
Michelle winced, "I couldn't agree more. That's very cruel, and unfair. Hurting you won't make them feel better or undo mistakes you've made. They sound very childish to me. Bella, you have to remember that whatever happened with Jacob, whoever Rachel is-"
"His sister. She was...Before..." Bella interrupted.
"Jacob's sister... Whatever happened Bella, you took a higher road. You're sorry. You avoid causing them more pain, as you've told me you never go to their area now, even when your father visits them. I'm very concerned though, that you're not talking to Edward about this. He should be supporting you during these extra stressors-"
"No! He'll... He..."
"He'll what, Bella?" Michelle asked. "If Edward knew you were being tormented by gifts meant to hurt you, and angry words, what would he do?"
Bella tugged at her long locks, yanking them over her now swollen face, "If he knew the story, he'd agree with Leah. He'd leave me too."
"What if we told him together, in my office? You can practice by telling me-"
"NO!" Bella screamed. "I can't, alright? Just... no..."
Michelle rose to her feet slowly, "Okay, Bella. We don't have to do anything you're not ready for."
Bella forced herself to inhale deeply, willing her head to stop spinning and her vision to clear. She's only trying to help. She just doesn't see how bad I am. Like Edward doesn't see the real me. No one does. Except Jake and Leah. They see me. They know.
"Will you be okay tonight?"
Bella shrugged wordlessly. Again, Michelle extended her hand to Bella, gesturing for her to get up off the ground. Reluctantly, Bella accepted, tugging her jeans back up her hips as she struggled to her feet. She's lost weight, Michelle noted mentally.
"Bella, will you be okay? I'm on call all night."
"Yeah. I'll be fine."
"I'm not very convinced," Michelle replied firmly. "Bella, if you can't talk to Edward, can I suggest someone else?"
"Like who?" Bella snapped.
"Your father?" Michelle asked gently. "He already knows what happened, aside from the recent altercation. Maybe he could give you perspective?"
"Maybe..." Bella's voice trailed away. "I'm in a bad mood. Sorry."
"I can take your bad moods, Bella. I've told you before to go ahead and get angry in here. This is your safe space to be uncensored. I think you need more of it, though. Would you be able to come twice a week instead for a while?"
Bella frowned, "I'm fine. I can handle it. You don't have to-"
"I want to. Would you come twice a week instead, until the medications are helping?"
Bella nodded, "Okay. Yeah. Maybe that would be good."
"How's day after next, same time?"
"Yeah, I can do that. I'll be here."
"Good." Michelle smiled reassuringly. "As shitty as it felt, you were very strong today. You let a lot out in this room. That's a good thing."
It feels like hell, Bella thought miserably. I don't know how much more I can take.
Making her way slowly to the parking lot, her truck parked in the farthest corner, Bella mulled over the session, Michelle's words ringing in her ears. There's one thing I can do to get some answers. Her hand trembled as she inserted the key into the door, throwing it open harshly and pulling herself up behind the wheel. And I have time to do it. Starting up her red monster, she brushed aside the last of her tears and pulled out onto the street, turning away from Edward's apartment, turning for the ramp towards Forks.
It was time to have a long overdue conversation.
Edward inhaled deeply as he stepped out into the rear gardens of the Cullen home, admiring the lilies that Alice had managed to tend to perfection. His mother's passion for flowers had passed along to the little pixie, along with her nurturing talents. It surprised Edward that Alice was willing to get her hands dirty, let alone her clothes, but life had a way of surprising him these days. A gentle breeze rustled the leafy trees forming a canopy near the gazebo Emmett and Carlisle had built, the creeping ivy thriving as it wound around the sturdy oak framework. Beautiful, Edward thought to himself. Esme would love it. The ivy had only just begun to take shape before her passing, the gazebo a newer addition to the endless expanse behind their home, the spoils of a buyer's market in a small town where most people moved out, not in.
Therapy had been hell today, and it was the echoing memory of the painful discussion that had sent Edward straight into the back of the home for refuge. He needed to pull himself together, in case Bella called him. She was due back in Forks tonight; her father had been growing suspicious of how often she was in Port Angeles, and Edward was beginning to fear for the safety of his scrotum. I wonder if her session went okay. She seemed so stressed out last night. Hopefully Michelle had been able to pull out of Bella what she'd steadfastly refused to discuss with him last night, much to his disappointment.
Then again, who are you to talk? You haven't told her about Tanya, have you?
Tanya had come up inadvertently with Andy this afternoon, Edward discussing his tattoos with the therapist and their meaning to him. He was trying to explain that he considered it perfectly healthy to commemorate painful losses with permanent art upon his fleshy canvass; it was no different than a photo on prominent display, or wearing a piece of jewelry from the lost loved one.
"Tanya's was the first," Edward had said. "Man, I got some weird looks for a buttercup and butterfly tattoo as a dude, but Ronan understood the meaning behind it-"
"Tanya? I don't believe you've mentioned her before," Andy had interrupted, leaning forward. "Who's Tanya?"
Edward had mumbled a quick explanation, insisting he couldn't talk about that yet. Because he truly couldn't go there. It was difficult to even see a picture of Tanya, even two and a half years after she left his world. A month ago, he'd stumbled onto a picture of the two of them while unpacking a box in his apartment, and had spent the rest of the day in a miserable funk, waiting for Bella to get off work while blaring Johnny Cash.
A door opened behind him, and Rosalie stepped out into the garden almost gingerly, as if she felt she was trespassing. Edward stifled his instinctive groan, returning his attention to the cobblestone pathway beneath his sneakered feet. She's been better this week. Emmett asked you to give her a chance. Her sandals clicked along the stone, halting a foot behind him as Rosalie coughed lightly.
"Hey. Edward," she said softly. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah," Edward replied hesitantly. "Long day, that's all."
They stood silently, for what felt like uneasy hours in a surreal world. Since when does Rosalie give a shit about anyone aside from Emmett? Edward could hear her shuffle her feet lightly, and he swallowed back an urge to snap at her, to demand she leave him to his ruminating.
"Edward?"
He turned at the sound of her soft, almost shy voice, puzzled to find a Rosalie who no longer radiated her usual self-assurance. Her white blouse and jeans were almost casual for her, which Edward found refreshing. But why is she so anxious? Edward wondered.
"What is it, Rosalie? Did you and Emmett fight again?"
Rosalie laughed nervously, "Not yet, but the night is young. I just wanted... Well, I'm sorry. You know, for being hard to like. We're going to be family soon, and I sort of... well..."
"Wanted to be less bitchy?" Edward quipped.
"I deserve that," Rosalie sighed. "I was actually thinking we could grab a coffee sometime. I work in Port Angeles right now, so we could meet on one of my work breaks, maybe?"
Edward paused, leaning back on his heels. "You're asking me to hang out?"
Rosalie nodded, running a hand through her wavy blonde hair, "Well, yeah. I was talking to Emm, and I thought I could get to know everyone slowly. Fresh starts and all that. Alice is taking me shopping tomorrow," she added.
"Good luck with that," Edward groaned. "Tink's gonna shop your feet off."
Rosalie chuckled, "Emm said the same thing! Alice's reply was that we'd be starting with shoes, so I could find comfortable ones. I'm frightened!"
"Alice means well. She's just an addict. I need to find a reality show to submit her to." Edward mused, pausing to consider Rosalie's offer. "You're serious about this hanging out and talking shit?"
"I'll even buy your coffee," Rosalie offered. "That's like, six dollars for your time. I'm generous." She grinned widely as Edward chuckled. "I swear I'm not always on PMS."
"Throw in a scone and you're on," Edward countered, winking.
Rosalie beamed, "Done deal! Give me a call next week when you're free for lunch. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I've dodged choosing the stupid utensil designs for my mother for long enough. I told Emmett to pick for me, but he's bloody hopeless for this stuff." Rosalie shook her head in exasperation, "He'd probably like Dixie cups and plastic spoons."
"Yup, sounds like him. Good luck with that," Edward replied.
Rosalie pivoted on her heel, making her way briskly back into the kitchen, the porch door slamming with a light thud as she passed through. Running his fingers through his messy bronze hair, Edward stood motionless, stunned.
"Well. That was bloody well fucked up. Time to go skating in hell, methinks."
The drive to Forks had passed quickly, Bella's foot becoming lead as her frantic need for answers, for some sort of solace, even she didn't deserve any, urged her forward. She'd nearly missed her exit, cutting off some college jock in a Hummer, earning several angry blasts of its horn. She'd flipped him off in reply, almost begging him to run her off the road. Maybe then, she'd finally sleep - truly sleep, without nightmares. With every passing day, it grew harder to hide the terrors that stalked her in her sleep from Edward's watchful gaze. Under eye concealer could only do so much to combat years of weariness, and she knew that no one was buying her excuses anymore. Even Ronan had sent her home early twice now, urging her to get some rest.
Failure. I'm such a fucking failure!
She was dangerously close to that old line, the one dividing life and death, sane and insane. If she didn't have Edward, didn't have his beautiful smile and warm arms and sarcasm, it would be hard to resist pushing a toe across it. Just to test the waters. Just to know the option was there. Not even Charlie was enough to keep her from daydreaming of endless slumber, of rest.
Unwittingly, Jessica Stanley's troubled face entered her mind and Bella, stunned, nearly hit the brakes mid-intersection. Shaking it off, she flipped the indicator on and made her way towards her destination. The sun was setting now, a brilliant ruby red hue flooding the clouds overhead. At one point in her life, Bella would have paused to paint it, or snap photos. She would have laid in the sand at La Push, admiring the reflection along the crystal blue waters, in awe of nature and its little pleasures.
Not now. Maybe not ever again, if the damn pills didn't help soon.
No. No more of that.
Killing the engine, Bella was relieved to see that he was home. Good. I need to do this now, before I lose my nerve entirely. With a deep breath, Bella stepped out onto the driveway, kicking at the gravel absently before making her way up the steps to the porch. Her heart pounded and skipped, a staccato echo of her tentative steps, and she struggled to calm herself, to will her heart to steady, to not seize and give way. Not yet. Her hand trembling, she reached out for the knob, gingerly turning it. Unlocked.
"Okay, Bella; time to grow a pair."
Pushing the door open, she almost fell forward with the momentum, her hand catching against the wall of the foyer. With a muttered curse, she straightened herself up, coming face to face with the man she sought. His expression was one of confusion and displeasure, and Bella swallowed hard as she straightened her posture, her fingertips toying absently with the hem of her Thunder Rats t-shirt.
Biting her lip, Bella sucked in a breath through her teeth, the faint whistle deafening in her pulsing head.
"We need to talk," she blurted out quickly, her gaze averting to the dusty floor. "About Rachel."
So, how do you think this talk is going to go?
Who did she decide to talk to?
I'll do my best to give you answers soon!
In the meantime: there is a new awards site, and one of the cool things about it is that it is meant for people who haven't yet won. Spreading the love around and all that. Noms are closing Sunday September 5th, so you don't have much time. Mosey on over to this link:
thehiddenstarawards[dot[blogspot[dot]com/p/nominate[dot]html
Please review!