Author's Note: I just got an anonymous review that gave me many lulz:

YOU ASS! BELLA WHOULD NOT KILL HERSELF! SHE IS NOT SELFISH ENOUGH TO DO IT!
YOU ASS!!

----HANNAH

Now, I do not know why some fans get so, um, what's the word...passionate about Twilight and the fanfiction written for it, but now I really kind of understand that whole, "don't like don't read" concept. If it bothers you so much, HANNAH, then just click that little X button on the top corner and avert your virgin eyes. And I'm sorry if you think every person who kills themselves are selfish, but not everyone feels that way. Yeah.

And, if Eclipse showed us anything, Bella does have some pretty selfish tendencies. Not saying she's a selfish person, but everyone can be selfish at times.

Also...sorry if you think I'm...'AN ASS'...for writing a fanFICTION, which has nothing to do with the canon plot and really is not NECESSARY for you to read. Now, while you could be insulting some of the many ridiculous AU's out there (which, trust me, are more ridiculous then this here story) you picked mine to go for the 'unlikely' factor. Yeah, it's unlikely, but so is Edward leaving and Bella becoming an Emo/Goth/drug addict/delinquate/etc, but I've still read some good ones with those themes.

Now I'm wondering why I'm spending so much time with this reply...maybe because I'm still giggling...maybe cause I suddenly have a problem with someone I don't know calling me an ass for something that very well could happen...maybe I'm mad cause I have a friend who tried to kill herself and don't appreciate anyone calling her 'selfish'...I don't know...but this is both making me laugh and pissing me off to no end, so, HANNAH, why don't you go off and read your Breaking Dawn book for the sixth time tonight and stop bothering people with your CAPS LOCK and explanation! points!

Not to say I don't appreciate all reviews and all that...including the negative ones...but I'm sure you'll all agree this is just a bit...unnecessary.

I find it kind of funny

I find it kind of sad

The dreams in which I'm dying

Are the best I've ever had

---"Mad World," Tears for Fears

I'm standing there...in the clearing...and the sun is out. The sky is the lightest blue I've ever seen, almost white, but the sun is still bright, bright yellow. The air feels soft against my skin as the wind blows lightly.

Edward?

I hear my voice echo...echo...on what?

Did I even say anything?

Suddenly, I feel the weight on my chest again...like a building is sitting there...crushing me.

But there's Edward.

And for once, he's not glaring.

He stands on the other side, with the sun shining on him, with his skin glittering like hundreds of thousands of diamonds. He's smiling, and I think...God, he is an angel.

"Bella," he says. His voice sounds like a song, effortlessly fighting the silence in the clearing. "Bella, wake up."

No. "Edward?"

He looks at me sadly, like he has to drag me away from him, but with the smile unrelentingly firm against his face.

"Wake up," he says quietly. He steps foreword...no, his feet hardly moved. "Wake up."

"No," I say, because I don't want to.

"Bella..."

"Bella."

"No," I say.

"Bella"

And the beeping cuts through the silence, the sound of his voice, bringing back the terrible headache and the constant throbbing of my hand and the thoughts and voices and noises.

I don't know wha I start to think...I think about what actually happened...I can't...so.

I fell?

But I look up feeling ashamed anyway.

I expect to see Charlie, or Edward, Alice even. Someone who I think would...I don't know...care.

You know how, when you lie to yourself, you can think two things at once but only really think of one? Like if I start to tell myself my name is Jessica or something...I'll be telling myself that...my name is Jessica...but, at the same time, I'll be thinking...not anything in particular...just a negative. Just a wordless thought reminding my psyche that, no, my name is not Jessica.

Or something.

But that's what I'm thinking.

I'm thinking I fell I fell I fell I fell

But underlying it, like the hints of old pencil marks the eraser couldn't get to, is no no no no no

no I fell no I fell

And Rosalie is there.

Here.

Looking mad.

"Bella, wake up." I'm not sure whether she meant to sound so harsh.

I open my eyes...all the way...and she looks at me.

When I open my mouth to talk...all that comes out is a croak. An intelligible onslaught of vowels, gargled at the back of my neck. My mouth is on fire, someone poured lava down my throat, acid, oil and flames...

The only noise I make is as intelligable as a spoon thrashing against a metal pot.

"They had to pump your stomach," Rosalie says curtly, like she were reciting it from a script. She's not moving, just standing at the front of the bed, close enough so I can see her, far enough to make it clear she's not here for sentimental reasons.

But the one half of my brain is saying why would they pump my stomach?

--and the other half is saying I know why I know why I know why.

"Do you know what your doing to him?" she asks mildly, like how's the weather?

I don't answer, partly because I physically can't, partly because I'm afraid what will happen if I do. Is Rosalie really the type to kill? I mean, of course she's killed. She told me herself. But...would she kill me? Would anybody let her?

Would I let her?

"I'm not going to hurt you," she says, giving me a look. "I won't do that to Edward."

I open my mouth, struggling with my burning throat to create something understandable. "If...he...knew..."

She turned sharply, her head snapping towards me so quickly I felt the wind hit my face at the friction. "If he knew what, Bella?"

I don't say anything.

For a moment, just a moment, I think she looks genuinely hurt. "Do you really think that's who he is? Do you know him so little that he'd...what?" She seethes, breathing through her teeth and shaking her head. "What do you think he would do, Bella?"

I think of his face, hateful, spiteful, twisted with anger and disappointment and disgust. I'm sure there are worst things. Worst things that could happen, worst things that he could do, but I really can't think of any of them.

All I can do is look at her helplessly, silently pleading with her. Leave. Just leave. "Go," I croak, wincing as the air passes my throat. "Go."

Her eyes soften slightly, enough for her to look less threatening. "I want to help you, Bella," she says, her voice twinged with sadness I've only seen in her once. The type of sadness that happens when you've already given up on something, already accepted that there's nothing you can do. A lost, firm kind of sadness. "I really do."

I can only see the irony in her words, only see the disgust on Edward's face, only see everything being destroyed.

I look away and don't move until I hear a long sigh and the door clicking shut.

xXxXx

Dave bounced impatiently in the small, barely lit room. The shadows bounced off the walls from the pale fluorescent light bulb. Were they raising the temperature in here?

Shit.

He had been in here for hours--maybe even days. I mean, it wasn't like he was even doing anything to the girl. Just messing around. She was the one who through a fit about it, screaming her face off until some bastard in the shop across the street called the cops. Now she's saying he tried to rape her?

Jesus, she's not even his type.

And then, when they took the girls statement, without even looking at him, they come back and take...

...that girls wallet was in his pocket.

The door, the same color as the rest of the walls, so much so that Dave forgot it was there until it opened.

His father had bailed him out from the holding cell, and he had done the walk of shame back to the car knowing full well he'd be back; they had the other girls wallet. It was over.

Anyway, the door opened. A man, clean shaven and red headed, dents in his face becoming caverns as the pale light hit him, walked in. He had a manila envelope in his hands.

He sat down, slowly, into the chair, turning it around so his elbows were crossed on the front as he dropped the envelope onto the table.

"Isabella Swan," he said, opening the envelope to reveal a picture, "was just admitted into the hospital for...attempted suicide."

The way he said attempted made itself very clear. Attempted as in still alive, so don't get your hopes up.

The only reason he knew what the cop was talking about was because he knew the picture. School taken, an awkward smile, long brown hair and just as brown eyes.

"Okay?" he said, doing his best to keep his expression blank.

The cop slid a tongue over his teeth, like he was picking a piece of chicken from them. "You wouldn't have any idea why, would you?"

Dave shook his head. "Never met 'er."

The cop shook his head. "Dave," he said, "you better hope she never met you, neither."

a/n and yet another chapter where absolutely nothing happens.

guys, there's only TWO LEFT! YES!

i've also been working on an AU Twilight fic, and a series of twisted and dark oneshots (called 'Tales of Macabre, check it out please). So I hope all of you will read that...because chances are I'll update those on a semi-regular basis :)