Fairly important A/N: Hi, guys! Okay, so the end of Destructive Desire is coming by. I know, I can't believe it myself, but it is. So here's the deal: I will be publishing a chapter every Wednesday for the next few weeks. The story will be updated for the rest of this month, and through October as well. It won't stretch past November, and if I'm correct, then the last chapter should be up on Halloween. So stay tuned every Wednesday, because those are the days this will be updated. (For those that know the end of this story, *cough* KELLY *cough*, don't say a word.) Anyhoo, I listened to some Lykke Li while writing this chapter. "I'm Good, I'm Gone" and "Rich Kids Blues" were those lucky songs. Enjoy!

(And if you go back twenty chapters, you might find a sense of returning, haha. The "Edward and his problems" thing was brought back on purpose.)


I'm Good, I'm Gone :: Rich Kids Blues


Edward Cullen still had problems.

Edward Cullen still had a lot of problems.

Obviously, the father role didn't suit him very well. After about a month of being "tied down" as he called it, he started going out again.

I didn't know where he went, and I didn't particularly care, either.

Edward always claimed that he loved Vanessa, and when he was around, it really did look like he did. Vanessa was his favorite person in the entire world.

I just wished that he acted like it more often.

He wasn't a terrible father. He could change a diaper (after a while) and do things like that.

He just always complained that he wanted to go out. It was strange. When Edward wanted to go out, he went out without thinking about it; he didn't stick around for weeks and finally go after a month of thinking about it.

I remembered the first time he went out since Vanessa was born. It'd been on the first Friday of March, and he didn't stumble home until the next Tuesday morning. I'd been so, so pissed with him, though I did tell him, later, that I would forgive him.

I never did forgive him for worrying me.

After that episode, he went out a lot. He didn't disappear for days again, but when he did vanish, it was like he'd been gone for days.

I remembered every time he told me that he was going out and that he would "be back later." Later didn't come soon enough.

Edward was home for the whole day on the second Sunday of April, though. I was glad, in a way. I wanted to know what was up this time. He always had his little stints.

Vanessa was already asleep and the house was quiet that night, so things were pretty much perfect to talk to Edward.

We were sitting casually on the couch, watching a television movie, when I took the remote and turned the volume down.

"What was that for?" Edward asked, still watching the TV.

"I think we should talk," I told him.

"Oookay. And about what?" He looked reluctant.

"About you. Edward, what, exactly, is your problem?"

He turned to me, his eyes solid. "What do you mean?"

"You're always out now. It's not fair."

He scoffed. "I am not always out."

"Yes, you are." I took a deep breath. "It's like every time you see your family, you're okay. Then suddenly, it all fades away and you go back to going out and getting high."

"I guess that does happen," he admitted.

"Then why do you do that?" I asked. "I mean, you've kind of got a family now. How is this fair to me, or to Vanessa?"

He shrugged. "I don't know."

"Can't you just be… normal, for once? Please?" I pleaded.

"I don't know if I can," he said. And that, right there, was what started to piss me off.

"Stop fucking with me, Edward."

"I'm being serious, Bella."

"Then stop doing this," I told him. "It's not that hard to keep yourself from going out. You may have an addiction, but you have to try."

"Quit making it sound like it's a choice, Bella," Edward said between his teeth.

"Well, it is!" I replied, louder now. "Nobody shoved a fucking needle into your arm."

"It's not a choice or even an option anymore," he said, quieter. "I thought you understood, but it's clear that you don't."

I sighed. "I think I do, Edward. I used to be into pot, and then over a year later, you got me into heroin."

He shook his head. "If you understood, then you would know that things are hard for me. You don't get it. It's not a choice."

"I'm not done yet. You got me into heroin, but I got clean. You didn't, Edward. I don't think you even tried. Do you know what's not a choice?"

He didn't look at me. He just leaned forward, closed his eyes, and pressed his forehead to his folded hands.

"Being abused over and over again is not a choice," I said. "Being hit by the person that says they love you is not a choice. Getting pregnant and going through so much shit with an abusive, sad excuse for a boyfriend is not a choice. Edward, you have options. You can get clean. I don't have any options. This is so selfish of you. All I ask of you is to get your damn act together, and you can't even do that. Heroin, beer, and all that shit isn't your life anymore! That baby—your daughter—crying every hour is your life. And I didn't have any choices. Not even one. You do, though, and you're being selfish."

He took a while to respond. "You don't know the slightest thing about what I went through," he said, still refusing to look at me.

"Rosalie already told me," I snapped. "You were a fucked up kid. Cry me a river."

"Rosalie didn't tell you that I could be depressed, though."

I paused for a second, and then spoke again. "If you're depressed, then why don't you get help? You could see a shrink or something. I mean, Rosalie told me that you never did because you thought you didn't need any help."

"And I still don't need it," he said, still not changing his position.

"I'd say different," I told him.

He finally looked at me, his green eyes—the same green eyes that everyone in his family, including Vanessa, had—clear and honest. "I don't fucking need it, Bella. I'm fucked up already. Why would I see a damn shrink just so they could tell me the same thing?"

I considered what he said, and realized that he was just like how I'd used to be.

He didn't want to see a shrink because he thought he couldn't be helped, and that wasn't the case. I'd been the same way.

"Edward," I said softly, tears pooling in my eyes. I put my hand on his. He pulled his away.

"What?" he asked, angrier now.

"When you were gone, I was out of it, and I may still be that way, but I saw a counselor. I didn't think that she could help me, but she did. You have to get help. Please. For me. For Vanessa. Your family kept telling me how much they wanted you to get better. They care so much for you, it's crazy. They want you back. I want you back."

He leaned back against the couch and turned to me. "I guessed I'm too fucked up to repair."

And that was when I was done.

I got off the couch and made my way upstairs. Edward followed me. "What are you doing?" he asked.

I didn't answer him.

In some deep and dark part of my mind, I must have been planning this somehow. It was almost like I had been waiting for Edward to fuck up this hard, just so I could leave. It was almost like I had been waiting for my time to come.

I silently packed my wallet, some emergency money, my toothbrush, a tube of mascara, some lip gloss, deodorant, my cell phone, its charger, and a pair of sweatpants into a tote bag of mine.

"Bella, where the fuck are you going?" Edward asked me, standing in the corner of our room, by Vanessa's crib.

"Somewhere," I replied curtly.

I quickly brushed my hair and threw the brush on top of everything in the bag. I changed from my pajama bottoms to a pair of jeans (because a lot of the weight from being pregnant practically melted off as I worked out as much as I could, fuck yes). I leaned down into Vanessa's crib and kissed her on her forehead. Then I grabbed my keys.

As I made my way downstairs, Edward followed me.

"Could you please be specific?" he asked, annoyed. "I'm two seconds to losing it."

"Be mad," I told him, not turning back. "It's all good. I'll be back later."

I went out the front door to my truck.

"But where are you going?" he asked.

I turned around. "Out. I already told you, I'll be back later."

I got into my truck, and Edward held the door open so I couldn't close it. "Come on," he said. "Stay. Sorry if I made you mad, but come on. I mean, the kid."

"You'll survive."

He didn't move an inch. "Bella, stay," he begged.

I shook my head. "I can't," I told him. "I love you, and I love Vanessa, but I need some time for myself."

"I'll call you," he said, almost like he was about to give up.

"And I won't be at the phone."

Cursing and shaking his head, he walked back into the house. I shut the truck's open door and started driving.


Mom, I've got your wild-eyed ways. At least we've got something in common, right?

Don't judge me, though, because it's not like YOU never randomly left a boyfriend (and his kid, too, sorry) before. You once left a husband as well. Don't forget that.

I have no idea where I'm going, or why I'm going, but I am. I wish I could know what I'm after, and then I'd be leaving for a good reason. Maybe I just need to start over, since things will never get back to normal. Whatever the definition of "normal" really is, anyway.

You must be wondering why I'm going to you, though, instead of Lucy, or Charlie, or anyone else. You're the only person I have left. That's why. I left Vanessa with Edward. Maybe Edward will learn something. They're better off without a shit mother like me, anyway, though. If Edward can manage to not fuck up (because I must be the reason why he fucks up so much), then they'll be fine. Jacob can't stand me. We used to be so good together, but I messed up badly. More than once. Charlie has disowned be completely, since I'm such a stupid slut. All my friends are either dead or busy being relevant to the world.

You're all I have left, Mom. I've got the rich kids blues, even though I haven't lived that lifestyle in years. You'd think I'd be okay, and things really could be worse, but I'm not okay. It is not okay to not be okay for me. It's just not. I could try to move on, deal with it all, and make things work somehow, but I can't because I'm afraid of the truth. I'd rather be full out lied to than have the truth told to me.

And you know something? I'm afraid of failing even more. I know what it's like to start out so high only to be dropped lower and lower, time after time. Trust me, I've been there while you were too busy being a perfect wife instead of a good mom.

I know I'm bad. I'd be lying if I told you I've been an angel since I moved to Forks a little over two years ago. Okay, maybe not. I was an angel for a couple of weeks. The couple of weeks I had before I first started dating Edward were boring, though. (Sorry, but I don't like to be bored. If being bad is the way to escape boredom, then so be it.)

But as bad as I am, you're still my mother. You're always going to be my mother. I know you would never, ever abandon me (and you'd be guilty if I ever thought you would) but I can't help but remind you that I was the person that came flying out of your vagina nineteen years and almost four months ago.

I'm a bitch, I know. I'm not proud of it, but I'm a bad kid, Mom. Will I survive? Could you just lie to me and say I'll survive?


A/N: Yes, that was fairly short. It had to be. So how was that? I'll update next Wednesday. Stay tuned! :)

I love you guys.

MTL. x