DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE CHARACTERS FROM TWILIGHT. THEY ALL BELONG TO STEPHENIE MEYER.

EPOV

Michael and I sat in my room and talked for what felt like both forever and hardly any time at all. In that hour or so, I learnt that Michael had in fact been born in Forks, but his parents had moved to Port Angeles when he was three. I found out that he has a younger brother, who constantly winds him up and younger twin sisters, who were generally so busy annoying each other that they didn't have time to bug him. Which he was pleased about. I also found out that his Dad had died of cancer three years ago and that was when he first became bulimic. He doesn't really remember what caused him to turn down that route, but he did and he knows that he has to get better. That was something I still hadn't come to accept. I told him about my parents and my self harm, he even managed to convince me to show him the scars on my arms. He let out a low whistle when he saw the damage that I had done to myself. I explained that it was because of my failed suicide attempt that we came to move to Forks, and that if I hadn't done that, I wouldn't be where I was now. And that I wouldn't have met Bella.

He seemed interested in Bella. I showed him the picture of him that Emmett had stashed in my bag. She told me that she was pretty and he said that I was really lucky to have someone like her, someone who listened and didn't judge. He told me that he hadn't had anyone like that. He told me that no one had really cared what he did to himself, and it was only because of that one time in Gym class that he was here, talking to me now. I knew how lucky I was to have Bella there fore me. I told him all about her and I could feel my eyes glazing over as I spoke about her.

"Ooooh." He jostled me. "Sounds like somebody's in love!" He grinned and I couldn't help but grin back.

"Yeah," I replied, looking down at the picture of Bella that I still had in my hands. "I guess I am." I smiled again as I remembered her kiss from the day before. I looked up to see him grinning at me and i playfully punched him on the arm. That only made him grin wider.

"You miss her already don't you?" He asked, his face growing sad. I nodded solemnly and smiled at him again. He grinned back, but with not as much enthusiasm as before.

Before I knew it there was a knock on my door and the nurse from this morning, Jude, I think her name was, came in. "Edward," I looked up at her. "You have your session with your nutritionist in five minutes. I'll show you the way down." I put the picture of Bella back on the table next to my bed and put my shoes on. "Come on, out you go Michael." He stood up and left the room, but not without mouthing "Good luck" to me first. I grinned at him again as I stood up.

For someone who was stuck in a place like this he was so happy. I couldn't understand it myself. He wanted to get better. He was ready for it. I wasn't at this point in time. Maybe some day in the future I could be like Michael, but in all honesty I didn't see it happening.

I followed Jude down two sets of stairs and down a long corridor. I made sure I memorised the way back, in case there was no one there to help me find my way around. The other patients were milling around, all of them absorbed in the various activities that they had going on. I noticed that there were children of all ages here. It looked like there were girls and boys around the age of ten or eleven here as well. There were also teenagers of my age here, they were more frequent than the others around, but there were also older people here as well. People between the ages of twenty-five to thirty or something. I hadn't really realised that something like this could affect so many different types of people. I guess I had just been cooped up in my own little bubble too much to notice.

Jude stopped outside a wide door. She gestured for me to go inside. "She'll be along in a minute dear." She said in the same tone that she had used to wake me up this morning. I knew that that tone was going to get on my nerves. Hopefully she would only use it when I was considered "new" to the place. I slowly entered the room, while I waited for the nutritionist to arrive.

I was perplexed by what I saw.

It appeared to be a miniature version of a ballet studio. It had hardwood floors and a bar running across one wall. I wondered why I was meeting a nutritionist in a room like this. Wouldn't have been better to meet in a more office setting rather than in here? I don't know. Maybe they were just trying to psych me out I guess. I noticed that there was a grand piano and I walked over to it, not daring to touch any of the keys. I had learned to play whilst my parents were around. My mother used to play so beautifully. She used to play to calm me down, that's where my love of Clair de Lune came from. It was always her favourite piece to play. She had taught me how to play from the moment I had climbed up onto the stool and whacked my fist down on one of the keys.

"Hello Edward." I heard a gentle voice calling my name and I looked towards the door. There was a slender woman standing there. She had brown hair that reached to her shoulders and she was carrying several notebooks and pens. She also had a look of sympathy on her face. I knew what her name was, but it was eluding me. Michael had told me not an hour ago. Why couldn't I remember what her name was? It was going to bother me until I found it out.

"Don't look at me like that." I said, a little more harshly than I meant to. She looked at me, a look of confusion passing across her face.

"Like what Edward?" She asked in soft tones, much like the ones Carlisle and Esme used.

"I don't want your pity." I looked back at the piano, wishing that my mother were here to play it for me.

"What makes you think I pity you?" She walked swiftly over to the piano and laid her belongings down on it. She turned to study me. "I never said anything, apart from "Hello" that is."

"The look on your face said enough." I still didn't look at her. "I've seen that look too many times in my life to not know what it means."

"Okay," She said, guardedly. She obviously knew that I didn't want to be here, that I didn't like the fact that others around me felt that I needed to be in the hospital. I could also see that she had done this many times before. Still, it didn't mean that I was going to play nice. "Well Edward. I'm here to help you to try to rebuild your relationship with food. I want you to be able to identify when you're hungry, choose what you want to eat and when you want to eat. I want you to learn to eat when you're hungry and to stop when you're full. Mostly I want to be able to help you rebuild your trust of food. To learn that it's not the enemy. To learn that its vital to life."

"And what if I don't care for life?" I replied in a blank voice. She stuttered at that. Obviously she had never encountered that question before. I mentally smiled at myself for stumping her. I met her gaze to show her that I was serious. If I hadn't then she probably would've thought that I was being awkward, but I held her gaze relentlessly. "Well? What then?"

"Then you need to speak to your psychiatrist about rebuilding your self-esteem and self-confidence. Then you may be able to retrieve your value for life." I chuckled at that, shaking my head.

"Right," I said, still chuckling to myself. "You don't know the answer so you pawn it off on someone else! You're not the first person I've met to do that. Take my parents for example. They couldn't handle the situation so they sent me here. It's happened a lot in my life, so why should I expect any different from you?" I shoved my hands into the pockets of my jeans and leant against the piano and looked at her, my gaze unwavering. I could tell that I was unnerving her. Good, I thought. I was letting her know that she was not the one in control of this situation.

"Because I can help you with your problems, Edward." She tried to sound confident, trying to regain her composure. It wasn't working. I had learned how to unnerve people. It had come in very useful back at school in Chicago. It stopped people from asking me questions and asking questions about me. And I could tell that it was working now. She was losing the cool and calm persona that she had arrived with.

"Can you?" I asked, my voice level. "Can you really?"

"My job is to help you discover the foods that you're comfotable with, the meals that you're comfortable eating. I know its going to seem hard, but that's what I want to try to do. To rebuild that precious relationship with fo-"

"You're repeating yourself." I cut in. She looked flustered yet again. She obviously hadn't had a patient talk back to her like the way I was doing and I could tell that she didn't like it one bit.

"Right, now Edward," She picked up a notepad and flicked it open to a particular page. "What do you feel that your ideal weight should be? What weight would you be most comfortable at?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. I don't really care about my weight." She looked surprised at that.

"Then why do you do this?" She asked. I had intrigued her with that comment.

"Isn't that what my psychiatrist is for?" I smiled at her sweetly, playing her at her own game. She didn't really know how to handle me. It seemed like she had never had a patient like me before. Not one that answered back anyway.

"Well, um, yes. I guess so." She looked back at her pad. "Well, I'm going to tell you that you weighed in at 106lbs, which is extremely underweight for your height." She looked at me with a concerned expression. "At this current weight, your BMI is at 13.6 when it should be between 18 and 25. You are severly underweight Edward."

"And?" I gave her a look that said that I didn't care. That I wanted it this way.

She looked at her notes again. "I understand you suffered a heart attack immediately before you were admitted here?" She looked up at me and I stared back, unblinking, unnerving her even more.

"So?" I asked.

"Don't you care about that? The fact that you could have died?" She walked up to me now, the worry evident on her face. "Doesn't that matter to you at all?"

"If it did would I be doing this to myself?" I answered her question with a question of my own. "Would I be here?"

"You know," She was getting upset now. This is generally what happens to people who know that they no longer have control of a situation. First they become slightly flustered, then they become more and more unnerved by the other person which results in stammering and shaking of the limbs, then they become confused, not really understanding what the other person is getting at, and finally, they become upset, aggravated that they are unable to regain the control they once had. "To most people a heart attack would have been a serious wake up call." She was telling me this like I hadn't just been through it. Like I hadn't just suffered one not two weeks ago. Like I hadn't suffered the pain ripping through my chest that signalled that my heart was going into overdrive.

"Well, then," I said solemnly. "I guess I'm still asleep."

She looked back at the pad she was holding. It obviously had all the information that they'd acquired about me on it. "I'm going to help you get back up to your ideal weight, whilst reintroducing you to food."

"And what ideal weight would that be?" I asked, tilting my head, knowing that I was still in control.

"Ideally, for your height, you should be weighing between 140 and 160lbs-"

I chuckled. "Not a chance!" I scoffed looking her as though she was mad. "No fucking way!" I stood there and shook my head at her. "Not a fucking chance!" I didn't raise my voice with her. I used a tone that told her that she couldn't force me to do anything.

"I'm afraid you don't really have a choice Edward." She said, trying to convince me of that fact. "Your parents placed you in our care because they believed that you need our help, so we're going to help you. Whether you want it or not." I gave her a blank stare. "Right, do you want to tell me what you'd normally eat in a day."

I shrugged. "I don't know. Nothing if I can help it."

"Nothing?" She looked at me skeptically and then it seemed she remembered my weight that was written in front of her.

"Yeah. No-thing!" I stretched out each syllable as though she was hard of hearing. I hated when people repeated what I was saying. It was one of the things that really aggravated me about being around other people.

"Right, then." She noted that down. "And what about the days where you do eat something, what will you have?"

"I don't know. A cereal bar and a few bites of whatever dinner I can't get out of." I stared at her blankly. "Why do you need to know this? For some evaluation? I don't need you to ask me all these questions to tell me that I'm unhealthy! That I'm killing myself!" I was beginning to lose my temper now. Who did this woman think she was. Asking me about a few meals that I had every now and then and she thought she had me all figured out. "I know that already!" I took my hands out of my pockets and ran them through my hair.

"Then why are you so against me helping you through this Edward?" She had obviously been forewarned that I hated the nickname "Eddie" that Emmett and Alice used. Though her tone told me that had she not she would have called me that. "Why won't you let me at least try to help you?"

"Because I'm fucked up, that's why?!" With that I stormed out of the room. I couldn't stand to be in there anymore. I just wanted to be by myself. I remembered the way up to my room, let myself in and fell onto my bed, allowing myself to land face first into my pillows. I stayed like that for about a minute or so, drowning everything else out.

There was a soft knock at the door and a moaned in reply, and though my response was muffled by the pillows the person came in upon hearing it. "Didn't go too well with Jennie then?" It was Michael. I muffled a response and shook my head so he got my meaning. My head snapped up.

"Jennie!" I exclaimed. "That was her name!" I dropped my head back onto the pillow, punching the air in accomplishment. I could feel Michael looking at me as though I was a freak. I rolled over onto my side so I could look at him. He had sat Indian style on the end of my bed. "I couldn't remember her name, and then when you said it just now it clicked."

"Oh," I said slowly. "Okay then. I was kinda wondering about the, uh," He punched the air, imitating me. I shrugged, not really knowing what to say. "What happened man?" He asked obviously wanting to know everything that happened in my first session. So I told him what happened. His face by the end of it showed that he didn't really know whether to be in shock or in awe. "No one's ever behaved like that with Jennie before. I mean, you managed to intimidate her?" I nodded. "Really?" I nodded again. "How?" I rolled my eyes and gave him the stare that I had used on Jennie and he shivered. "Okay, man, stop doing that. That's creepy I'm serious, cut it out." I could tell it was unnerving him, just as it had Jennie but he was the closest thing I had to a friend in here, so I stopped it and grinned. "Okay, now I see what you mean." He shivered again. "But you know she's going to go straight to Dr. Martin and tell her what happened, who will go straight to the psychiatrist that they've got lined up for you." I shrugged. Not caring.

I had another half an hour or so to spare before my therapy session started, so I sat and talked with Michael as I had done earlier that day. He was mostly marvelling about the fact that I had managed to intimidate Jennie, who apparently was the one who did most of the intimidation and wouldn't take kindly to the table's being turned.

Before long, there was another knock on the door and Jude came in, wearing a sour expression. She had obviously heard about my little altercation with Jennie earlier on. Michael stood up to go. "Good luck," he muttered. "You're gonna need it."

I followed Jude down another corridor and this time we went up some stairs instead of down. We came to a halt outside a very posh looking pair of doors. Jude knocked and I heard someone come to the door.

"Edward!" At the door was a fairly tall man, medium build which could have been made athletic if he had put the work in. His dark brown hair was starting to turn grey with age. He spoke to me and clapped me on the back as though I had known him for years, rather than just met him but a moment ago. I knew this ploy. The old "introduce them to a comfortable environment" ploy. All but one of my previous psychiatrists had tried it on me. And it hadn't worked any of those times. I had no idea why he thought it would work now. "Thank you, Jude." He said to the woman as he pulled me inside the office. She smiled at him, looked at me sceptically and walked off, back down the corridor the way we had come.

His office was large. It had a large desk situated underneath a window which a large leather sofa situated just to the left of it. He had many bookshelves full of volumes that I knew that Carlisle would love to immerse himself in for days on end. I noticed that he had a lot of diplomas on the wall, and that the lighting was low, as if to create a friendly atmosphere.

"Don't be shy." He said, seating himself behind the large oak desk, which was clearly supposed to be the fixation of the room. He motioned towards the sofa near it. "Have a seat." He had a large grin plastered on his face, and I wasn't entirely sure whether or not it was genuine or part of the ploy to get me to open up. Either way, that was not happening. "My name is Derek." He said and I had to physically stop myself from laughing. Yeah, okay, I know that my name was a bit outdated and rarely used anymore but Derek? That sounded like it should be in a children's fairytale, not the name of a psychiatrist.

When I sat down I noticed that he was studying me closely. It made me feel extremely self conscious.

"It's okay," he said in a friendly tone. "Make yourself comfortable." The way he said it implied that I might as well because I wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. It was the same tone that Carlisle had used when he sat me down after I had come out of the hospital after my failed suicide attempt. Well, if he's offering. I thought. So I slipped my shoes off and curled my legs up underneath me. The sofa was actually quite comfortable. It reminded me of the sofa's at home. My thoughts strayed to my home for a brief moment and I felt a wave of sadness overcome me. I missed home. I missed the people there. I missed my family and Bella. I wanted nothing more than to be there with them right now. This must have shown in my expression because suddenly Derek - Derek? I thought, I was never going to get used to that name - was looking at me with a puzzled expression. "What is it?" He asked, jolting me out of my thoughts. I shook my head, not wanting to talk about it. "Come on, now. That's why you're here. That's what these sessions are for. I'm here for you to talk to. To let your feelings out. I'm here to help you work through your problems."

That was the same thing that Jennie had said earlier. So I responded in the same way. "And how are you going to do that?" I asked. He smiled at my response, even though he looked a little surprised.

"Well," I chuckled. "I'm going to try and find out why you do the things that you do." I pulled my sleeves down over my hands, suddenly feeling more self-conscious than ever. This action didn't go unnoticed by Derek. He looked at my hands with a quizzical expression on his face. "No, tell me Edward." He suddenly became serious. "Why is it that you do the things you do?" I was studying me. I could feel his eyes on me as I looked down at my sleeves.

I shrugged. "Hell, if I know." I muttered and he chuckled again.

"Well," he murmured. "That's not one I've heard before." He was writing something down in his ledger. I didn't care for what he had to say about me. I smirked at that remark. "Now." He said, becoming serious yet again. "I'm going to try to help you get to the root of your problems. To help you try to discover why you do the things you do, or at least to help you admit those reasons, because I think, that you know why you do these acts. You know why you deprive yourself of nourishment. You know why, when you get tense, when things seem out of your control you feel the urge to drag that blade across your skin." I winced and he stopped, obviously seeing my discomfort. "Don't you?"

I didn't respond. And he seemed to take this as confirmation of what he was thinking. He was right. I do know why I do it. To block out the pain, to block out everything around me. But I wasn't about to let him know that, was I? I looked up at him.

"You think you've got it all figured out, don't you?" I asked him in a quiet voice. "You think, that after ten minutes in my company, you know me, don't you?" I didn't drop my gaze for a second or blink once. On the outside he appeared to handle my relentless gaze better than Jennie had. If he was unnerved by it in any way, he didn't show it. "Just, to let you know," I whispered. "Nobody knows me."

He chuckled again. What the hell is it that this guy finds so funny? He was really starting to get on my nerves. "You know, Edward." He said, still chuckling, shaking his head. "You are the first patient I've had who hasn't relaxed immediately after the whole, "get yourself comfortable" routine. You obviously know a couple of tricks that we use to help things go smoother during a session."

"Well, let's just say you're not the first shrink to try to get into my head." I shot back at him, with as much disdain in my voice as I could muster. "Just so you know, none of them were able to so I wouldn't get your hopes up."

All he did was chuckle again, shaking his head. This made me angry. "What the hell is so damned funny? Is this situation funny to you? Because if it is, then can you fill me in on the joke because I'm not sure I get it!" He stopped laughing at this. He seemed surprised at my sudden outburst, as though this was the one thing he had not been expecting.

He eyed me suspiciously. "You know, there's something about you Edward." He said, completely serious now. "You unlike any patient I've ever had. None of the other patients I've had over the years, and trust me, I've been doing this since before you were conceived." He said this with a hint of malice in his voice, and it made me internally wince, though I did not show it on the outside. "And none of them, I mean none, has ever said anything like that to me before. You know," He leant forward onto his desk. "You, Edward Anthony Cullen," I winced at the sound of my full name. He noticed that and smiled. "You are a mystery that I'm going to enjoy solving."

He leant back on his chair, and sighed. He flipped through his ledger and quickly found the pages he was looking for. He let out a low whistle. "You weren't kidding when you said about the psychiatrists were you?" I looked at him defiantly and shook my head in a way that said, "I told you so." "Let's see....eight psychiatrists in seven years. You must have had some problems when you were younger. Care to tell me about them." All I did was look at him, unblinking and unwavering. He looked back down at the ledger on his desk. "Funny thing. It had no mention here of an eating disorder of any kind. Why is that? If you were going to so many psychiatrists then surely one of them would have noticed."

I smirked. "Well, maybe you shrinks aren't all you're cracked up to be."

He smiled. "Oh, yes." He looked at the page again. "I am definitely going to enjoy getting into your mind, young man."

"Who says you can?" I retorted. "I mean, the eight others weren't able to, so, who says that you can?"

"Well," he replied, looking up from the page. "With them, you were only going in for an hour or two a week, correct?" I didn't respond. "But here, you're here all the time. If I decide that you need a therapy session or something like that then it will happen. It doesn't matter where you are, what time of day, anything like that. Because yes we may be here to answer to your needs, for example your need to rid your body of the disease Anorexia Nervosa." I winced as he said the name of the thing that had held its grip on my body for the last five years. I had always known what it was called but I hated the name. It made it sound like I was sick, which, in my mind I wasn't. "You see that's the beauty of these places. We can really get into the patients minds, you see, nothing they do is a secret to us. Which all, in the end, helps you, to recover from this sickness that is plaguing your body and mind, Now we work on your mind, we can heal your body. Because that's what this is, Edward. You're suffering from a mental disease. And its something that I am going to face with you every step of the way."

Was he right? Did he really have the power to drag me into a session whenever he felt like it? Or to invade the personal privacy of my room whenever he felt like trying to dig further into my brain. I would have to ask Michael either later on today, or the next day at the inevitable weigh-in that they performed at an hour, at which it should be illegal to be up at, no matter what the circumstances.

"Now, Edward Cullen," He was pointing at me now, not in a malicious way, but in a way that said that said "Enough about what I do, let's move on to you" and I didn't like it. "I am going to pick your brain."

So, Edward doesn't get on with his nutritionist and he's really creeped out by his psychiatrist.
I'm not sure about when I'll be able to update again, as I have intense practise every day this week, but I am going to try to update as frequently as I can.
Some reviews would be great :D
Ciao xx