Chapter 21: Coming Clean

All of us, at certain moments of our lives, need to take advice and to receive help from other people.

Alexis Carrel

It had been sixteen days since I had been admitted to the hospital, nine days since I had regained consciousness, and today I was finally going home. Though Dr. Cullen had cleared me for discharge at my father's persistence, I knew both he and Dr. Kate wanted to keep me there longer. I hadn't been completely honest and forthcoming with information, instead providing what I knew would make it seem like I was okay. I'm sure they saw right through me, which was why Kate continued to see me for an hour every day.

With each day that passed after our first meeting, Kate tenaciously pushed me for answers, particularly about my relationship with Renee. Not only had Kate been a witness to my freak-out, but she had also been there when Renee had returned with Charlie the next day. I had still been recovering from being sedated so things didn't escalate. I had threatened that I wouldn't ever leave the hospital if Renee stuck around before Kate stepped in and escorted my parents from the room. Shortly after, Kate returned to the room alone, smiling lightly at me before immediately questioning me about Renee. I didn't see my mother again after that day.

Taking about Renee in any sense wasn't like pulling off a band-aid. In truth, talking about her to Kate was like picking away at a scab that hadn't yet healed; I would be left bleeding again.

Luckily, I had already had my daily meeting with Kate and had mixed feelings about no longer seeing her. She could be really irritating with her incessant probing, but she had become a fixture in my life that I would miss. Today's session had been no different from the others, and ended with no hint of her leaving me.

After our hour was up, I had been left alone. For a few minutes I was surrounded in silence, but then Dr. Cullen's voice spoke up just outside of my door.

"I think it would be beneficial for Isabella to continue therapy with Kate."

"Carlisle, there is nothing wrong with my daughter. She's fine," Charlie argued.

"I have to disagree, Chief Swan. Isabella is a very sick girl—" Kate interjected.

"Then why don't you explain to me what's wrong with her."

"At this point, I am unable—"

"Exactly!" Charlie raised his voice. "If there was something wrong, you should've been able to figure it out in a week."

"I don't want to just throw out a diagnosis without being sure of it. Isabella's been lying to me and is unwilling to divulge information," Kate replied.

"Then what makes you think that continuing to see you will help any at all?"

"She needs time to grow accustomed to me and I need time to gain her trust to fully evaluate her. It's a normal process. But I can assure you there is a problem. One, that left untreated, will possibly have dire consequences."

"This was just an accident. She didn't mean to do it," Charlie said quietly. So quietly, I almost couldn't hear him.

"Please, Charlie," Dr. Cullen said. "Take some time to consider it. For Isabella's safety."

"Fine. When can we get Isabella out of here today?" Charlie asked, sounding defeated.

"Soon. Why don't you come with me to get her papers signed," Dr. Cullen replied.

It grew quiet again as I assumed Dr. Cullen led my father away. The door opened, and I tried to look like I hadn't been eavesdropping on a conversation about myself.

"Back so soon?" I asked Kate.

She quirked her brow in response before saying, "I just wanted to say bye and to give you my card." I took the card, looking over the information printed on it before I looked back up at her. "It has my phone number on it," she explained. "Call it whenever you need me."

"Okay," I murmured, looking at the card again. "Thanks."

She nodded and turned to leave. She paused with her back to me, saying, "It's been nice getting to know you, Isabella."

It was nice to be home, and from what I could see, Charlie had made an effort to clean. I smiled gently at this as he followed me up the stairs. My room had a stale smell to it having been left untouched. The bed was still unmade, clothes were still strewn about, and a few of my school books were still lying open on my desk from the night before my incident.

By the time I had changed into my pajamas and had climbed into bed, Charlie came in with a grilled cheese sandwich. I thanked him for it while he fussed over me and mumbled to himself about needing to change the sheets. I was about to argue with him that I was fine when there was a knock at the front door. Charlie regarded me momentarily before going downstairs.

"I'm sorry, but she needs her rest right now," Charlie said.

"I understand that, sir. I just wanted to see her for a little while." My ears perked at Edward's reply.

"The answer is no," Charlie said sternly.

"Can I at least bring her homework up to her?" he asked.

"I'll take it. I think it's time for you to leave."

Edward had visited me every day that I was in the hospital and had begun to bring my schoolwork to not only ease my boredom, but to keep me from falling behind. He was a really sweet guy.

I stood at the top of the stairs and cleared my throat to gain their attention. Sure enough, they both turned to gaze up at me. "Hi, Edward," I called down softly.

"Hey, Isabella. Sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"No." I raised my hand to stop him. "It's cool. I wasn't sleeping."

"Isabella, you should be in bed," Charlie said firmly. "Edward was just leaving."

"Stop trying to push him out the door, Dad," I replied.

"You need to rest," he argued.

"And I can do that while Edward's here," I said in return.

"But—"

"Dad, please. We're not going to do anything besides talk while I work on my schoolwork. Besides, I'll probably need his help since I missed a bunch of school."

"Fine. He can stay for one hour, but no longer," he told me before pointing his finger in Edward's face, adding, "No funny business."

"Understood, sir," Edward replied, trying to suppress a smile that was threatening to escape.

"Come on up, Edward," I said, turning back into my room.

He appeared in my doorway just as I was climbing back into bed, a smirk gracing his face. "Nice PJs."

I blushed deeply at his comment as I remembered the flimsy tank top and baggy pajama pants that barely hung on my hips. I continued to climb into my bed, pulling the covers over my body with my good hand. "Be quiet," I grumbled.

He laughed and shook his head.

"Could you shut the door please?" I asked. He nodded and shut it gently before walking over to my bed. His bag fell from his shoulder, landing with a heavy thunk on my wooden floor. He sprawled out at the foot of my bed as he leaned against the frame.

"So. How's it going? You feeling okay?" he questioned.

"Okay. I'm happy to be out of the hospital. Though, I'm not sure if being at home will be much better. Charlie hasn't stopped hovering since your dad told him I was being discharged."

"Eh," he shrugged. "I'm sure it's normal parent behavior."

"Yeah, I guess. It's just so annoying, you know?"

"I bet."

"Anyway. How was school today?"

"Nothing eventful. Not much homework either," he sighed, leaning over the side of my bed to where his bag was lying. I could hear him shuffling through his stuff before he sat up with a few books and papers. I took them from him, setting them on my lap as I looked them over briefly. Determining I wouldn't need his help, I placed my schoolwork on my night table. "Isabella, I think we should talk now."

I groaned, "Edward, I don't feel up to it right now."

"You keep saying that! I'm not just going to let this go if that's what you're hoping for. You've put this off long enough."

"Fine," I snapped in defense, crossing my arms. "What do you want to talk about?"

"I don't even know where to start," he sighed. "Why don't you tell me the truth about your mother."

"What?" I asked, taken aback. Where the hell did this come from? "I did tell you the truth."

"Isabella," he said in a warning tone.

"I'm being honest with you. What I told you was the truth."

"She must care. She traveled all the way from Florida to see you."

"That doesn't mean she cares, not about me. She was probably only concerned about what other people would have thought if she hadn't shown up," I cried out angrily.

"Maybe she does care, but just isn't good at showing it," he suggested.

"Doubtful," I muttered.

"She seemed really concerned."

"Why are you sticking up for her?"

"I'm not," he replied, throwing his hands up in surrender. "I'm just trying to understand."

"I've already told you everything you need to know about Renee. If you can't understand that, you never will," I said. He shook his head, looking away from me.

"Why did you… react the way you did when she came into your room?"

"I don't know. I was mad that she was there and when she wouldn't listen to me, when she wouldn't leave… I didn't have control. I guess I couldn't stop my frustration from building and that made me panic."

"You really scared me," Edward uttered softly.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

"Isabella, I'm not just referring to your panic attack. Lately, you've just been acting… different."

"I don't know what you want me to say, Edward."

"Is it something I've done or said?" he asked quietly.

"Why would you think that?" I questioned, trying to lock our eyes.

"Things have been weird between us since I brought you to the meadow."

"No it hasn't," I denied.

"Yes it has. Ever since we had sex. Was I… was I not good or something?"

"NO!" I practically yelled before I lowered my pleading voice. "Edward, please don't think that."

"What else am I supposed to think?"

"It's not you. I swear."

"Why won't you just tell me?" he asked, desperation in his eyes.

"It's not that easy," I bit out, not wanting to talk to him about this. It was clear he wasn't going to drop this issue and I couldn't think of any other reasonable explanation, so I was going to have to tell him the truth.

"Just spit it out!"

"Fine!" I snapped. I paused, taking a deep breath and the tears welled up in my eyes as I whispered. "I was… raped."

"What?" Edward asked, shocked. "I didn't rape you, Isabella. I don't know what you—"

"No! That's not what I meant. That night you called me Bella and it just… it just brought me back to that night. I keep having nightmares, and it's always the same," I whispered, sounding pathetic.

"Oh God, Isabella. I don't even remember doing that," he replied, moving closer to me so he could hold my good hand. "I'm so sorry. Do you know who did it? Was it someone from around here?"

"No. It happened when I was living with Renee. I… I really don't want to talk about this anymore. Please?" I choked out.

"Okay. Okay," he hushed me, rubbing my hand tenderly. "If you want to talk to me about it—"

"No. That's okay. I don't think I will," I interrupted.

"Well, if you do, I'm here for you."

"Thanks," I replied, pulling my hand out of his. "Was that all you wanted to talk about?"

"No. I wanted to ask you about something Alice told me."

"Alice?" I repeated, my body growing rigid. "What did she say?"

"She mentioned that you've been hurting yourself," he whispered painfully, closing his eyes as he pinched his nose. He exhaled deeply before looking me in the eyes and asked in a strangled voice, "Is this true?"

"And if it was?" I asked defensively.

"Why would you do that to yourself?"

"Why do you think, Edward? It makes me feel better."

"Can I see them?"

"You want to see them? Why?" I asked, shocked at his request. I never expected that kind of question from him or anyone else.

"I don't know," he said, shrugging.

"I have to admit, Edward. That's a little weird."

"I know, but I need to see."

"Okay," I replied hesitantly. I climbed out of my bed and moved away slightly. I tugged at the drawstrings, struggling a little. At once, my baggy pajama pants slid down my legs, pooling around my ankles. I stepped out of them and stood there awkwardly.

Edward threw his legs over the side of the bed again, staying seated as he reached his hand out slowly. My breath hitched as his fingers traced lightly over the angry pink scars, and I had to look away. I bit my lip painfully as I waited for him to stop. He cleared his throat, pulling his hand away. I bent down to grab my pants and awkwardly pulled them back on, knowing he was watching me.

"Thank you," he rasped. "For showing me and being honest."

I nodded, not knowing what to say. "Charlie will be up here soon to kick you out," I said once I realized how much time had passed.

"I know," he replied, glancing at my alarm clock. "But I'm not done talking with you."

"What else, Edward?" I sighed, starting to feel fatigued.

"I want to know about Jacob."

"What about him? He's just a friend."

"He's not a good person to be friends with."

"Because of Leah?" I questioned. He nodded in response. "You all keep warning me to beware of Jacob because of something that happened with this girl, yet no one will actually tell me what happened."

"Isabella—" he began.

"No, Edward," I interrupted. "You want me to stay away from him? Then give me a fucking reason. Don't bring Leah up and then just expect me to drop it. That's not fair."

"Fine. I'll tell you, but I want you to tell me honestly about Jacob in return."

"Deal. You first," I said.

"Leah Clearwater was one of the Quileute girls down on the reservation. I didn't know her well; I'd only met her once down at La Push Beach when I had a run-in with Jacob, who happened to be her boyfriend. Even back then, he and I didn't get along. Anyway, one day I had stopped at the hospital to talk to my dad, and as I was leaving, I ran into Jacob holding an unconscious Leah. He begged me to help her, knowing who my father was. So I helped him carry her inside, calling out for the nurses. Her body seized as she was whisked away on the gurney, and I waited with Jacob. It was hours before my dad walked into the waiting room, and I knew it was bad.

"I can't remember much about what my dad had said, besides that she had OD'd and he couldn't save her. It was later discovered that she'd had an underlying health condition that had contributed to her death. But still to this day, I'm pretty sure Jacob had been the one who supplied her the drugs and had been on them as well. I don't care what the drug test said, I know he was on something.

"He was her boyfriend and it was because of him — someone who was supposed to care about her — that she died. He blames me and my family for having not saved her, and in return, I blame him. I can't stand him for ending her life. Oh God, Isabella. It's like I was living it all over again, but this time it wasn't just some girl I barely knew. It was you. Please, please say that you'll stay away from him? For my sanity?"

His story left me speechless, so I nodded in promise.

"It's your turn now. Why did you go to Jacob's house that day?" Edward questioned.

"I had a nightmare and needed to chill out. I was out of weed, and I knew he had some," I admitted.

"Just pot? No other drugs?"

"Nope," I lied, shaking my head.

"Then why did you OD on a bunch of Vicodin?"

"I had a really bad headache."

"Why did you get pissed at Jacob? What did you guys argue about?"

"He was mad that I chose you over him."

"Have you ever been with him?" Edward asked hesitantly, wincing as if he was in pain.

I nodded slowly as I replied, "Once."

"Fuck, Isabella," he said, tugging angrily at his hair before looking at me in disbelief. "Are you fucking kidding me? So what he said was true?" He sounded so broken and angry.

"It was before you and I got together. Please don't be mad at me," I requested, taking his hand in mine.

"I'm not mad. I'm just not sure how I feel about that right now."

"You deserve so much better than me, Edward. I know I'm not good for you, and I can't understand why you care about me so much, but I love you. So much, it hurts sometimes. I don't feel that way about him or anyone else. Not even a little bit."

"I don't care if I deserve better," he said, moving off the bed to kneel beside my bed. "I want you regardless of your history with Jacob. I love you, but I'm worried about you. I want you to continue to see Kate, to get help. I couldn't bear to see you end up like Leah," Edward broke off.

I wanted to tell him that I wouldn't be seeing Kate any longer, not if Charlie was unwilling to pay for it, but before I could say anything, Charlie knocked on my door and opened it. He was letting us know that our hour was up. Unfortunately, Edward didn't even give me the chance to argue with Charlie for more time. He stood up, kissing my forehead on the way before saying he needed to get home anyway.

"Okay," I said dejectedly.

"I'll call you later," he promised. "Bye."

And with that, Charlie reminded me that I needed to rest before he followed Edward downstairs. Once the door was shut and the house had fallen silent, fatigue overtook me and I drifted into a dreamless state.