Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Twilight and never will. So sorry it took me almost a month to update, this has been really difficult for me to write and I really hope it isn't a disappointment. Thanks so much, all you readers and reviewers, it's been so inspiring knowing you like reading my story and I really do appreciate it. Words cannot explain how much so. Hope you enjoy this chapter.

It really happened. Right then, right there.

We made love.

Passionate, tender, violent, and most of all, frighteningly beautiful love.

The surrealism of what we had just done, what I had just done with Edward, was beginning to seep its way in, threatening to estrange us from one another. Yet I felt a tug of optimism; would this change everything between us?

Edward seemed genuinely pleased with what we just did, so I knew for certain that there were no regrets on his part. He was smiling his usual close-mouthed twitch as he pulled on his white dress shirt and shrugged on his suit jacket, and I noticed his face lit up with jubilation when he met my inquisitive gaze as I sat perched on the end of my bed and observed him dress.

And strangely enough, I didn't regret a single thing either. Oddly enough, I found I enjoyed it. It was beyond my expectations. It was beautiful. Something private and intimate that we shared together. Something... I found myself wanting to do again, and again, if the timing and everything became right between us.

"I suppose Charlie will be arriving home in a few hours," I heard him say softly, his silky voice breaking me out of my thoughts.

I blinked a bit and stared at him, feeling a little disappointed by what I saw and what it would all mean; he was crouching down, leaning with his back against the wall, already slipping on his sneakers. He would have to leave very soon before Charlie came home from work...

My stomach lurched as he pushed off the wall and stood, hands dangling at his sides as he came slowly toward me. My heart rate picked up as I leant forward on my knees, wanting and expecting more than just a goodbye kiss or a quick farewell after what we had just done and experienced together. Only he sat down on the bed right next to me, without looking at me.

For some reason, I already knew what was coming. I just didn't want to believe it.

"If I asked you to go out with me officially, what would you say?" he asks, and I found him looking at me earnestly, waiting for my answer. That was unexpected.

There was a euphoria about Edward that was catching. I couldn't deny that I liked him when he was like this, but he was always different the next day, and the next.

"I would tell you..." I faltered, swallowing thickly against the lump in my throat. Would this hurt him? Still, it had to be done. "I would have some conditions first before I... agreed to anything serious with you..."

He nods, thinking this through for a moment, smiling that crooked, radiantly beautiful smile, all perfectly oblivious to what I am going to be asking of him and how demanding it will be, and this immense amount of guilt floods into me, as though I've been injected with it. I don't know if this will hurt Edward or not, but it is not only necessary for my safety as well as his, but for my own sanity.

"All right, Bella," Edward says after a very long, painful moment of silence, gently, encouragingly. Like a gentle lovers caress. "What conditions do you have in mind?"

I still can't seem to bring myself to say it. God, Bella, get it over with!

"Bella?" I regard Edward miserably, and he chuckles a little at my reluctance. When I still can't seem to say anything, he says, very seriously, "Please, the suspense is killing me, love."

Deciding to get it over with before Edward loses his patience, I lift my hands level to Edward's eyes, palms upward, so he can have clear view of the slightly blistered, but healing rope burns that had accumulated so painfully there on my wrists from when he had bounded me to the steering wheel of his car forcefully.

"Do you remember how I got these?" I whisper, and he nods before looking quickly away from me. I thought I heard a low, disgusted grunt coming from the back of his throat, and he makes a face, wincing. "You said it was never your intention to hurt me -"

"- and it wasn't." He doesn't dare meet my gaze. His voice is very quiet.

"But you did," I continued, despite his obvious discomfort on the subject.

I scramble off the bed, standing directly in front of him, so he can't avoid me any longer. At last he meets my gaze, and there was a brief flash of regret in his green eyes. I didn't like hurting him like this, but if this was the only way to get my point across... He rubs his hands together, regarding me anxiously as I gather all of my hair into my hands and lift it away from my neck. I'm not entirely sure if the marks are still there from where his teeth had penetrated the skin or not roughly a few weeks ago, but I hear him expel a shaky breath of air.

"By doing all of this, you hurt me," I say finally, firmly.

I could see by the expression on Edward's handsome face that he was trying to absorb all of this. "Why are you doing this to me?" he asks, quite casually, before hopping up off the bed and turning his back on me. He starts pacing around my room, back and forth restlessly.

I try to pick my words with care. "I-I think you need help, Edward. And I'm not saying that to be spiteful in any way, but... all of this... it's really hurting me..." I can't see his face or make out any expression, but I hear a sound – is he crying? "Ultimately, it hurts me to see you like this. I think we could really have something wonderful here... but I can't be with you when you're like this..."

Finally he looks back at me. His eyes are rimmed red and expression bleak and, as if reading my mind, he says firmly, "I know I need help. I'll see a psychologist or psychiatrist. Otherwise, it'll never stop..."

I couldn't seem to think of anything to say, so I only nodded, satisfied with his answer and the intense determination in his voice. I left him alone as I went into the bathroom. I felt lighter, as though there was a weight off my shoulders. Something that had been bearing me down for a while now, had been lifted.

When I catch sight of my reflection in the mirror, I am startled by the pasty girl looking back at me, the expression on her face. She looks genuinely happy, her face glowing. And then she realizes her hair is a mess, like some sort of birds nest or haystack, and she grimaces back at me as she tries to flatten it down with her fingers. But mostly she looks happy...

And I was happy, in some bizarre sense.

The prospect of being in a normal relationship with Edward, perhaps even sharing a life together, when he was seeing a psychologist and acting stable with his moods, was something so very exciting, when I thought about it.

But I knew it would be hard work.

Hard work for the both of us...

After I'm done in the bathroom, I enter my room to find Edward standing by my window, looking out.

I go to stand beside him and then instantly stop as the strong stench of smoke hits my nostrils and makes them burn. "Hey," I say loudly in frustration, and Edward tilts his head back to look at me, alarmed by the sound of my voice through the silence. "You can't smoke in my room! Charlie will kill you – or me more likely - if he smells it..."

Edward shrugs and gives a breathtaking smirk. "Technically I'm smoking outside your window..."

"What, and there's a difference?" I tease, smiling.

Preparing myself for a smoke-induced headache, I stand next to him, examining his face closely without his knowledge as he looks out past my driveway. My stomach erupts into the same bizarre tingling turmoil as it did before when I watched him. Things seemed lighter between us, better, now that I knew Edward would try to get some help for his anger and mood swings. He looked distracted, but pleased at the same time. A stream of greyish-white smoke curls from his flawless lips and out the window and I have to quickly avert my eyes when he meets my gaze. Out of the corner of my eyes, I see him throw his cigarette out onto the asphalt before turning in my direction, his whole body and clothing dark in contrast to the bland white walls of my room and curtains.

"What would you say if I asked you to quit smoking?" I ask quietly, trying to break the sudden serious tension in the air as I peeked up at him. He makes a face and a gust of cold air from outside the window blows over us. It felt good, soothing against my skin. Edward was quiet as he thought it over for a moment.

"I would say that the cigarette lying out there was my very last one ever," he said after a long moment and when I looked up his green eyes were scanning my face, gauging my reaction. "There is absolutely nothing that I wouldn't do for you." I smile weakly at his words. "But, right now, I should probably leave while I can, love."

Some piece inside of me was suddenly filled with loss at his words and I didn't understand why.

I quickly moved closer over to the window, left eager and wanting, still waiting for a proper goodbye - a kiss or a simple breathtaking wide smile - hugging my arms across my chest and shivering at the biting breeze that was leaking in. But when I caught sight of Edward's face, his expression was pensive, his forehead creased. Something was definitely on his mind, I could tell. Was he planning something?

The keyword finally sunk in, straight through to the very pit of my stomach, leaving me nauseous. "W-wait. When you say 'leave'?" I began, nervous, my voice trembling, a sickening shiver passing through me that had nothing at all to do with the cold.

When he met my searching gaze, it was as if his green eyes were glazed over, as if he was looking straight through me. There was no light in his eyes anymore. They were possibly the worst, most heartbreaking eyes you could ever look into, all bloodshot and full of darkness. They say that when the light goes out in somebody's eyes, then there is probably no hope left for them. Did Edward believe that himself? Did he believe that there was no hope and that he could never change with whatever it was that was going on inside of him, even if he did see a psychologist?

Then his repeated words from last night, and the several nights before it, replayed through my head like a videotape, piercing through me like a stab each and every time:

There has to be an end...

I know it has to stop...

I don't think I'll be able to stop...

I realized then that sometimes someone can't be helped or saved, no matter how much it is redolent of them; this deep need for understanding. I couldn't help or save Edward. It had to start within himself.

Feelings of stupidity and self-pity flood through me as though I've been injected with it.

"Get dressed, love," Edward only said in a much brighter tone, leaving my harrowing question unanswered. "I'll go discuss this through with my father..." Before I could see his face, he had turned his back on me and I watched as he stepped over the ledge of my window, his long legs dangling off the side. Then he leaned back, and I heard him whisper softly: "Thank you, love. For everything."

I wasn't entirely sure what he was thanking me for, but it didn't offer any reassurance or condolence at all when my question remained unanswered and lingering in the air...

And then he was gone.

With Edward gone, my room is eerily still. Silent. Peaceful. The only thing left a reminder of what we had just done together was the bundle of my bed sheets on the hardwood floor. And then I saw it, a piece of paper folded and placed carefully on my pillow. I knew it must have been from Edward. I hesitated before walking slowly over and picking it up by one of the coiled corners. I opened it carefully to reveal Edward's extravagant handwriting, excitement and dread pulsating through me as I began to read:

To the girl who will only ever truly touch my heart,

As I write this letter, I am sitting on your bed in the midst of watching you sleeping beautifully whilst regaining your strength from our love making approximately fifteen minutes ago. It breaks my heart to know that you are so blissfully oblivious to what is going on right now, but it has to be done.

What we just did together was sincerely one of the most captivating, life-altering experiences I have ever done and felt in my entire life, and I will never forget it. Even when I'm dead and buried undeservingly six feet under the soil of your two very own feet, I will never let myself forget this magnificent moment that we have shared.

I had this sudden urge, right now, while watching you sleeping like Sleeping Beauty, to leave something with you. Now, or else the chance might never come again.

I don't believe or feel that I am quite capable of expressing this to your face any longer, so I hope my words written here in this letter will do you justice.

Sometimes I feel like a junkie (and as you read this, I am quite certain you'll be thinking this a poor analogy again, love...) But one minute something happens in my life, something unbelievably magnificent – like you, Bella – I am absolutely flying. I have this ever present feeling of floating. I am invincible!

It makes me so very overwhelmed with emotions that I cannot possibly grasp how to manage with it.

The very next minute, just as suddenly, I'm taking a nose-dive – everything is so horribly uncontrollable, as it was when you declined my hand in marriage – and as I'm about to hit the ground with full-force, something will occur that will have me flying again.

If I had to live on without you I know I simply could not do it. And no one should ever expect I should. But I hope, I have this pleasant magnificent vision of you, my sweet Bella, walking on the beach, with your flowing dark hair shining in the sun. You had a sweet, bundle of joy in your arms. A little girl.

She was our very own little girl.

The very last thing I will tell you, simply because I hesitate to tell you out of fear that it will never truly happen, that because of my revelation it will indefinitely cause it not to happen, is that when my father bailed me out that dreadful morning after I hurt that man and acted so indecently in your company... everything was blue.

After I did what I did to that poor unsuspecting man, I caught a glimpse of your face, Bella. And when I saw your face, nothing else mattered. It was beyond heartbreaking. It truly is beyond telling how I felt to see you look at me in that way. It shattered my world completely to see you look at me in that way...

It was then that I realized I need help. It was then that I realized I had tainted everything simply by interfering in your existence, and for that, I truly am sorry. And while you may not find someone who loves you as much as I do, and to perhaps the absurd extremities that I do, the fact is and will always remain, is that I'm dangerous for you. While I'm existing like this, I'm not safe for you. And while I continue on loving you in this way I don't think I'll ever be.

I said that I was willing to do anything within my power to change my behaviour for you, and if there is even the slightest chance in doing so that will then result in us being together again in the future, like I envisioned, then I'll do whatever measures possible to keep myself from hurting you whilst I go through my recovery.

I once read that love's involved with spending time together. But spending time apart can lead to loving even more. If that truly is the case, then what little hope is there for me? What little hope is there left for us and a future with our own children? Because there is no reassurance or guarantee that I can offer, to promise you that I wouldn't hesitate to eradicate- for lack of a better word - and protect you from, say, the very next man who simply waltzes into the same room as you and asks you simply to pass the table salt, when I'm like this.

I hope we will see each other again very soon,

My heart is yours, always.

Edward.