Disclaimer: Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer.

Reminder:

- Bella's about to start group therapy. Elizabeth is her therapist and the group facilitator. Gnats = NATs = Negative Automatic Thoughts; CBT = Cognitive Behavioural Therapy

- Professor Banner has been giving Bella extra reading and assignments.

- Edward's (real) parents, Carlisle and Esme, are having marital problems, with Esme suspecting that he might have cheated on her.

- Bella has been consistently writing random thoughts etc in her journal as a way to clear her head.

- In chapters 8-9, Edward bought that journal for Bella's birthday and then, after finding out that she wanted to try to write a short story about a stranger in the park, he dragged her off to the park and posed as her "stranger". When her writing didn't turn out the way she expected, Bella got really depressed and although she promised Edward she'd let him read it when it was ready, she has been guarding the story and her journal as if her life depended on it.

Chapter Title: The Other Side

I woke up to fingers dragging strands of my hair off my neck.

"Mmmm."

Lips followed, leaving lazy little kisses on my neck. I smiled, my eyes still closed.

"Time to wake up, love."

"No, it's not," I mumbled and turned around, hoping to snuggle with Edward and drift off again. I stretched contentedly, scrunching my toes and then letting them relax.

"It's almost nine-thirty. You're gonna be late for class," he said, his words jerking me awake.

"How can that be? My alarm hasn't gone off." I rubbed my eyes and sat up, clutching the covers to my chest, to check my alarm clock. "Damn, I must've forgotten to set it last night because… well, you know why."

We both smiled at each other like idiots.

"How the hell did you wake up before me?" I joked as he trailed his fingers down my spine.

"I don't know. I kept waking up. You on the other hand, slept like the dead."

"Yep." I had slept like a baby. I let the covers go and laid back down, practically on top of Edward, letting my chest press against his. He wrapped his arms around me securely. "I feel great."

I'd never slept in the buff before. The covers were soft and silky around me; Edward's body was warm next to mine. I felt amazing, relaxed, and almost a little reckless.

"Well…" he joked, shrugging nonchalantly as if feeling great was the inevitable, completely unsurprising result of sleeping with him.

I smiled – well, I kept smiling at him - and placed a kiss on his collarbone.

I finally turned to glare at my alarm clock, sighed, and cursed myself for not stripping off on a Friday. Then we could've spent the entire morning naked and canoodling in bed.

"I am not closing my eyes," Edward stated, reclaiming my attention. "I mean, that's okay, right?"

Oh. I have to get out of bed to get some clothes and walk to the bathroom. He's gonna get an eyeful.

Being naked now was actually slightly more difficult than it had been last night.

There was a lot of sunlight leaching through my curtains and the urgency that mini-Edward brought to the situation was conspicuously absent.

But I kissed the corner of his mouth, told him there was no need to close his eyes and got up anyway. I was painfully aware of every tiny flaw and scar on my body, but I managed to keep my arms by my sides as I padded to the bathroom to get dressed, mostly out of habit. I even turned and smiled shyly at him.

He definitely saw everything there was to see (again), not even trying to disguise his staring, but that was fine with me. Maybe I still wasn't a hundred-percent comfortable, but I was getting there.

Two cups of coffee and several classes later, I found myself walking to my first group therapy session. I guess this was something I'd be doing once a week from now on.

Don't expect a miracle, I told myself as I sat in that sterile waiting room again, slouching in my seat and trying to take up as little space as possible. One day at a time. Your goal for today is to be open-minded; listen, pay attention and speak at least once in front of everybody else.

I arrived first, but the rest of the chairs were soon filled with other fidgeting students.

How do I always get myself into these situations? Do I smile at them or avoid eye contact altogether? Is there some kind of therapy-waiting-room etiquette?

Since no one else said anything, I just stared at my lap and the stupid fake flowers and the ugly beige walls, trying to sneak a surreptitious glance at them every now and again, my mind twisting around the same thought, over and over: Are they here for the same reason as I am?

The door suddenly opened and I jumped as my therapist's… err… as Elizabeth's voice severed the uneasy silence, announcing that the wait was over. I wasn't sure whether that was a good thing, but I got up anyway and followed her (and several other students) to the designated room where the group would be held.

We filed in quietly, one by one, and I uttered a quick "thanks" to the person in front of me who held the door open. The room was slightly larger than Elizabeth's and contained a stack of papers and chairs arranged in a circle. As people sat down, it didn't escape my notice that they were leaving empty seats between each other.

There were only nine chairs though, meaning Elizabeth and the rest of us would all have to sit next to each other, so I picked the nearest chair, in-between the guy playing with his iPod and the brunette still wearing a jacket even though it was kind of hot in here. Better than sitting next to Elizabeth. I did a quick scan of the room and was extremely relieved not to be met with any familiar faces.

Nobody here knows me. I'm fine.

Once again, I was struck by how normal they all looked. The guy on my left who had finally put away his iPod was a little unkempt, but other than that, I couldn't tell anything just by looking at them.

"All right," Elizabeth said, smiling at us as she took her seat, "let's just make sure everybody is here and we'll get started."

She began reading names off a list, smiling at everyone as they raised their hand. I slumped down a little in my seat. I didn't want to do it, but I owned up to my name obediently when it was my turn. At least she was only using our first names. I wasn't sure about everybody else, but I was so nervous that most of it went in one ear and out the other.

"Before we begin, let's discuss a few practical matters. We generally discourage close friendships with other members of the group until the sessions have ended, but I find it helps to agree in the beginning whether you are comfortable acknowledging each other outside the group and what you're comfortable admitting when people ask."

Admit what to others? No! No, no, no. I thought they said it would be confidential!

I guess most people felt the same way because we ended up agreeing that while it was okay to acknowledge one another if we ran into someone on campus (as we inevitably would at a small college), it was unquestionably not okay to disclose how we knew each other to anyone outside the group.

Later that evening, I would have to explain to Edward that I just couldn't tell him certain things anymore. While it was more about learning thinking techniques than a "let's talk about your childhood" kind of group, we were still encouraged to share examples from our personal lives. As much as I loved talking to Edward, the parts of themselves other members of the group offered just weren't mine to share with him. I wouldn't want any of their friends or partners knowing my secrets either.

My first session actually went by pretty quickly. There was a lot of general introductory stuff, and although I knew some of it already thanks to Google, I made an effort to pay attention. When Elizabeth asked us to describe some of the effects our issues had on us, I even managed to make myself contribute.

"When I'm feeling low, I don't like quiet," I mumbled, staring at Elizabeth's hair and avoiding all the other group members. "I always need background noise. Music or TV or something."

Not the most insightful or eloquent thing I'd ever said, but whatever. At least I got myself to talk. It helped that other people mumbled stuff too, though Elizabeth undoubtedly did most of the talking.

That evening when I got back to my dorm, I flopped down onto my bed, extremely relieved that this day was finally over.

I'd gone to the gym after my session and although it had helped me clear my head, I still felt drained.

"How was your day?" Edward asked when he got there an hour later.

"Not bad. My first session was… okay. Nothing groundbreaking, but I think it was a decent start."

"Oh right! You started group therapy today! Shit, that's right. I'm sorry. I'm glad it went well."

He forgot? Huh. "It's okay. Don't worry about it."

We studied for a little while, then had dinner and watched re-runs on my laptop.

"Okay, so what happened to make your day so lousy?" I finally asked him.

"What makes you think it was lousy?" he said, trying to sound indifferent, sitting up next to me. Aw, isn't he cute thinking he knows me better than I know him?

"You've been kind of quiet today. And when you did talk, you made one too many jokes. Something wrong?"

He smiled and shook his head. "No, not really. Nothing new anyway. I just wanna forget about it right now."

"Okay…" I said, sitting up and moving closer so that I could touch his shoulder.

He closed his eyes and leaned into me. Encouraged that my advances were welcome, I wrapped my arms around him, hugging him from behind and placing a little kiss on the back of his neck. "Well if you're sure you don't want to talk then… why don't you let me distract you for a change?"

"I'm listening."

I smiled and ran my hands over his shoulders. "Okay. So what do you want? Anecdote? Massage? Blow job?"

My fingers, inspired by his quiet chuckle, started roaming his chest of their own volition, sneaking underneath his shirt.

His hand found one of mine and squeezed it. "I talked to my mom."

"Oh?" I leaned my chin on his shoulder. My offer wasn't meant as a joke, but clearly he did want to talk, so I tried to be patient and supportive and all that other good stuff that he always was for me.

"I don't know if it was what she said or the way she said it, but… I think my dad moved out. Or she kicked him out. I can't tell for sure, but the way she was talking is making me think that he's sleeping somewhere else now."

"I'm sorry."

"I know they were having problems before, but at least they were in the same house and now… Do you think that definitely means it's over?" he asked warily.

"No. Not definitely. I'm not gonna pretend it's a good sign, but it might actually end up being a good thing. Maybe they just need some time to think. Nothing's definite right now."

"Yeah, I guess. I just…I don't like this. And I'm tired of hearing about it. You know if I had minded my own business, I'd be as clueless as Jasper and Emmett right now. Lucky bastards."

I stayed quiet and let him vent, offering whatever thoughts seemed potentially helpful. I couldn't fix his parents' marriage, but it did seem like he felt better after a while.

He turned to me, doing that smiling thing with his eyes.

I smiled and kissed his cheek and then his mouth. It was supposed to be just one chaste little kiss, but his lips left mine feeling tingly and restless, and he was still staring at my mouth, so I leaned in for one more.

He rested his forehead against mine, sighing loudly. "So, um… Is that blow job offer still on the table?"

"I'm gonna go get ready for bed," I mumbled one hopefully distracting blow-job later, kissing him once more. Okay, twice.

I got up, fetched my pajama shirt and was about to walk to the bathroom to get changed, when he sat up and caught my hand, pulling me back toward him.

"Do you need that?" he asked quietly, staring at my pajama shirt.

"No. Habit I guess." He was sitting on the edge of my bed and I was standing in front of him. I placed my shirt on the bed next to him. "Though if we're going to sleep, won't I get cold without it?"

"That's my job."

I smiled and guided one of his hands to my waist and the bottom of my top.

There's no reason for me to get changed in the bathroom anymore, is there? He's seen it all.

He just stared into my eyes for a few moments, his fingers slipping underneath the material. When it became obvious that I had no objection, he slowly pulled it up.

I pulled off his shirt when my top was on the floor because for some unknown reason, only his jeans had been removed when he'd taken me up on my earlier offer.

A few minutes later, all my clothes were on the floor except for my bra. Edward wrapped one arm around me to remove that too, placing little kisses above my belly button and running his other hand over my… posterior.

My fingers played with his hair while I waited for him to undo my bra.

And waited.

Is it supposed to take him so long?

"Um…should I...-"

"No, I can do it. Just stay still," he mumbled into my skin, ceasing the kisses and committing both hands to his task now.

"Don't worry, I'll let you practice," I joked and felt him smile against my skin.

When he was finally done, he pulled me into bed and pressed us together, naked skin on naked skin.

"Cold?"

"Nope. Toasty warm, thank you." I sighed and kissed him. "You're really good at your job," I muttered in-between kisses as everything started feeling a lot more urgent. It didn't take long for kissing to turn into making out, our bodies quickly getting carried away.

"It's not a job," he mumbled into my neck as his hand frantically pulled my leg closer, hitching it over his hip. "Bella, last night – there was so much I should've said," he panted. "So much I would've said if I'd been thinking clearly."

"Last night was amazing," I replied breathlessly, my hand on his posterior, urging his body nearer. "If you wanna tell me something, then tell me. Now, tomorrow, the day after." Though now doesn't really seem like the time for talking, if you ask me. "I'm not going anywhere, so you can tell me whenever."

"That's true," he panted and finally stopped talking and kissed me properly the way I wanted him to.

The days passed exactly like they always did. I spent time with Edward, went to class and to therapy once a week. Even the group sessions began feeling ordinary despite the fact that I'd only been to three so far.

Elizabeth gave us worksheets to consider and homework every week, which we always discussed in the next session, usually in pairs and then as a group. Apart from actually doing the homework, discussing it and anything else that touched on my personal life, was always the toughest part of the session. However, although speaking in the group wasn't easy, it was nowhere near as difficult as I thought it would be. Maybe because nobody really expected me to talk or be relaxed. And nobody else was relaxed either.

As irrational as it must sound, the fact that no one expected me to be comfortable made me feel a lot more comfortable.

It helped that other people offered some of the experiences that haunted them too. Not that everyone was an open book. There were plenty of awkward silences when none of us were particularly keen on sharing, and often the group was tainted with a polite but formal atmosphere. I didn't suddenly feel like I'd found my niche; that wonderful, mythical place where I accepted others and they accepted me, but…

But every now and again someone would say something and I'd just know exactly what they were talking about because I'd felt the same feeling and thought the same thought more often than I could recall.

It was one of the weirdest sensations. For all intents and purposes, these people were complete strangers. I didn't know their full names or what music they listened to or where they were from, but on some level, the level that brought us all to that room every week, I probably knew them better than some of their closest friends.

Weird. But also kind of nice.

It's not just me.

At the end of the sessions, we were all polite, holding the door open for each other, but as soon as we cleared the threshold, the group promptly disintegrated, individuals dispersing in every direction, always a safe distance between us. And then, then it was back to… life. It didn't matter what had been said, life would go on like it always did. I'd go back to trying to deal with classes and taking care of myself and Banner's extra assignments and my parents and my friends and Edward and everything else.

That stuff was always there, waiting for me, and sometimes I wasn't happy to see it, but then again, sometimes I was.

"So in your pairs, have a look at the worksheet and try to come up with some of your own examples," Elizabeth said as she handed each of us a piece of paper during my fourth session.

Week four. Okay, Bella. Focus.

"Try to identify what exact thoughts were running through your mind at that moment," she instructed happily, smiling that polite smile at us, and I wanted to roll my eyes so badly.

Did she really have to be so happy all the time? Sometimes I just wanted to fucking snap at her. What makes you so perfect? Why don't you try changing the way you've thought about everything for years and confronting your 'core beliefs' and see how fucking easy you find it!

But as quickly as the anger and frustration would seize me, it would let me go. No one was forcing to me come here every week.

I turned tentatively to iPod boy, who was sitting on my left.

I was a little uncertain about having him as my partner because he hardly ever contributed to the discussion unless Elizabeth directly called on him and it was obvious that he never did the homework. Apparently, doing your homework isn't "cool" here either.

Most of the time, he was glued to his iPod, listening to it right up until Elizabeth started speaking, and attaching the earphones again as soon as she announced that was all for the week.

But I was here for me. I had to at least try to do the exercise. He probably just felt uncomfortable – God knows I did too – and would hopefully feel more relaxed once we started.

Okay, Bella. Suck it up and start talking.

I read through the worksheet. It was a list of distorted thinking patterns, many of which were sickeningly familiar.

"Um, okay so…" I cleared my throat uneasily and tried to take the initiative since it was evident that he wouldn't. "I think I do most of these. The mind reading/jumping to conclusions one… I do that a lot. And the labeling one…"

The butterflies in my stomach grew restless as I read the description on the page:

'Instead of describing your error, you attach a negative label to yourself: "I'm a loser."… Mislabeling involves describing an event with language that is highly colored and emotionally loaded.'

Dear Lord, how often had I done that?

"Yeah," the boy said. I waited for him to reciprocate in some way… maybe point out a cognitive distortion that he struggled with or something, but he didn't.

Okay, still my turn I guess…

"So an example… Okay, during spring break I went camping. I was really looking forward to it because it was my first time um-" going away with a group of my friends "going camping and I really wanted it to be perfect.

"None of us really knew where we were going, but we wanted to walk around and explore and somehow Ed-win," I caught myself just in time, "Edwin and I were given the map and we were put in charge of navigation and… well, I got us majorly lost. We ended up wandering around for hours and it started raining and just… Yeah, I messed up big time and for a while the only thing I could think was 'God, you're such an idiot. You let everybody down. You ruined the entire trip.'"

Hearing my thoughts out loud was so weird. Out loud they sounded kind of… stupid.

"I guess I- I had an idea of what the trip would be like in my head and me screwing up and getting us lost wasn't really part of it." I cleared my throat hastily, starting to feel uncomfortable with the personal shit I'd just revealed and wanting to get back to the safer technical aspects of the exercise.

"So I guess it's also an example of 'All or Nothing' thinking too," I said, pointing to the first heading on the sheet unnecessarily.

"So what happened?" he asked and I turned to look at him, pleasantly surprised that I'd gotten more than a monosyllabic response.

He was smiling, though... Why was he smiling? Is he laughing at me?

Jesus Christ, stop trying to guess. Maybe he can relate. Just do the freaking exercise.

"Well, I was kinda quiet for a while, because I was upset that I'd messed up. It took me some time to snap out of it and try to have a good time again, but I did have fun in the end," I concluded. "Though I still wish I hadn't gotten us lost," I admitted sheepishly, shrugging.

"So um… do you have an example?" I asked tentatively, not wanting the awkward silence to overwhelm us again.

"Oh. Um…" he trailed off. "It's difficult to think of an actual example off the top of my head," he mumbled and I nodded even though I could easily think of a dozen examples for me just from this month alone. "Um… I can't really think of anything."

"All right. Has everyone had a chance to consider the worksheet? Let's talk about some of the things that came up," Elizabeth interrupted, bringing us back to group discussion.

It would've been nice to get an example from him in return, but I guess life doesn't always work that way.

Our homework for that week was particularly intimidating.

In the first three weeks, our homework had mainly been theoretical. We had to start keeping a "thought diary," at first, just writing down our thoughts when we felt especially anxious or down, and then writing down anything we could think of to challenge those thoughts.

This week we were supposed to use all the theory and actually try to do one thing that gave us that horrible feeling of dread and despair in the pit of our stomachs.

I was already a little down because Edward and I had been too busy to see each other all day and he was sleeping in his own dorm room tonight due to an early meeting in the morning. I really didn't feel like doing therapy homework today.

I had no idea what my one thing would be, but then I saw my journal lying at the bottom of my bag and before I knew it, I was sitting on a bench by the river, the annoyingly harmless-looking journal in my lap.

I couldn't believe that I was actually contemplating trying to finish the stupid short story I'd started months ago. I hadn't even read over any of what I'd scribbled when Edward had somehow talked me into trying to write something of my own. I really didn't want to do this; to see yet more evidence of how many things I sucked at.

But this is my homework and I always do my homework.

I sighed loudly and looked up, trying to talk myself into starting. My eyes suddenly stumbled upon a familiar figure walking past my bench.

iPod boy!

I'd seen a few members of the group around campus every now and again, but it was usually from afar. On this particular occasion however, my timing impeccable as always, I looked up just as he walked past me and he was so close that our eyes unexpectedly met and I jumped like a girl. Oh my god. What do I do?

"Sorry!" he blurted, realizing that he'd just scared the hell out me.

"It's okay."

"Sorry, Bella. I didn't mean to scare you. I didn't see you…" he rambled, pulling one of the earphones out of his ear.

"It's fine, really. I'm sorry," I replied automatically. It wasn't his fault that I intensely disliked being caught off-guard.

"Okay. Sorry again." He stood in front of me, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, while I managed to somewhat calm myself.

Wait, he knows my name? I don't know his. Shit.

"I'm sorry. I didn't catch your name in the first session," I mumbled, trying to fight the urge to fidget with my shirt.

"Seth. Hi." He smiled a tiny smile, rocking back on his heels.

"Hi."

Um… Err…. Okay, relax and say something. "Funny we should run into each other now. I was just trying to do this week's homework," I rambled, unsure what I was supposed to say.

"Sure, right. I haven't started it yet. I don't know what I'll do," he mumbled, eyeing the empty space on the bench next to me. I shifted my bag even though it wasn't in the way.

"Yeah. This week's was pretty vague."

The seconds died far too slowly for my liking. Man, this felt odd. He was a stranger, but he knew some very personal things about me.

I really wished he'd either sit down next to me or walk away. This whole "him hovering while I stayed seated" thing was making me unnecessarily edgy.

"Yeah, this stuff is pretty weird, isn't it? It's actually kind of common sense… Like that 'Worry Tree' worksheet we got this week. 'Ask yourself if there's something you can do right now. If there is, do it. If not, schedule it for later and distract yourself,'" I recited. "It's not exactly rocket science, is it?"

I don't know why I kept rambling, but it was just so quiet and awkward and he was still hovering and I felt like I had to say something.

Plus I kind of wanted to talk about this stuff. With someone who got it; who was going through it too.

I was much more comfortable putting myself out there now, after all my opportunities and experiences with Angela and Edward, and really what was the worst that could happen? He looks at me like I'm crazy and walks away? Been there, done that.

He smiled and finally sat down on the bench next to me, taking the other earphone out of his ear. "Yeah and it's like – why are we so stupid that we need a fucking worksheet?"

"Exactly! Although, I guess we're not supposed to say we're 'stupid.'"

"We're not supposed to say 'supposed to,'" he immediately replied and I couldn't help but return his quiet smile, my posture relaxing a little.

This is kind of… nice.

At least it was nice until my brain decided to remind me of something.

You're not 'supposed to' be socializing with other people in the group, remember?

Shit, was talking to him against the rules? We'd agreed we could acknowledge each other, but Elizabeth did say we weren't supposed to be getting too friendly… not until the sessions finished anyway. What am I supposed to do now?

"Those worksheets are so pointless." His melancholy tone pulled me out of my mini-panic. I wasn't sure whether I agreed with that.

"I don't know," I mumbled. "Some of them can be sort of useful."

He just shrugged, all hints of his quiet smile erased. He looked so tired.

"Speaking of worksheets…" he began a few long, silent moments later. "Err… You know how in the last session you were saying that you got everybody lost on your camping trip?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I thought of something if you want to hear it…"

"Oh… Sure, okay," I replied hesitantly, still nervous that all of this was against the rules, but I really didn't want to tell him no because I knew how awful it felt to hear it. I guess it wasn't against the rules to just finish the exercise because we hadrun out of time during the session… "What is it?"

"You said you got everybody lost. But before that you said that you and that Edwin person were put in charge of navigation. I don't know if that means anything… obviously I wasn't there…"

"Huh… um… Yeah, we were both trying to navigate… hmm. I guess I misspoke? We got us lost."

Edward had been just as involved as I was in trying to figure out the map. So then WE got us lost, not just me. Wow. That hadn't occurred to me at all.

Had I done this before? Given him credit for what was merely a lucky coincidence or blamed myself when it wasn't solely my fault?

"So did you have an example you wanted to talk about? I'm sorry I went on and on and we ran out of time before you could say anything." I changed the subject hastily, finding the idea that I couldn't always trust my own memory kind of unsettling.

"Oh… no. I still haven't thought of anything. It's a stupid exercise anyway."

"Oh okay," I mumbled, disappointed and self-conscious now that I knew he wasn't going to share anything in return.

When neither of us said anything for a while, I started feeling uneasy again, my hands begging me to let them fidget with something.

I turned to Seth, hoping to restart some kind of conversation, but held my tongue when I saw the intense scowl on his face.

Oh my god, did I do something to piss him off?

Telling myself not to jump to conclusions, I glanced behind me and realized that he was glaring at a couple sprawled out on the grass a few feet away from us. They were making out furiously and I wished there was someone confident enough around to tell them to get a room.

Public displays of affection weren't my favorite thing to witness either, but he seemed disproportionately upset.

"Gross," I tried to joke and then immediately wanted to bang my head against the bench. "But, um… it's sort of reassuring too, isn't it?" I tried again, attempting to offer a different interpretation to the negative one he'd clearly seized upon because… well, because that's what we did in therapy and I didn't know what else to do. "They're not exactly… supermodels, but they certainly look like they're having fun. So, maybe it's sort of proof that beauty's in the eye of the beholder-"

"The only thing that proves is that everybody's getting laid except me," he grumbled and I tried not to blush.

The look of defeat on his face was easy to recognize.

I didn't even know him, but I wanted to make him feel better... badly. Because I knew exactly what that felt like. Because I wanted some proof that all the worksheets and the maxims and the stupid sayings we learned in therapy actually worked.

"Well, um…" I wanted to gently remind him that we shouldn't try to guess the future, and that sometimes it helped to think of ourselves as having a prejudice; as more likely to discount the positive and zero in on the negative. Sometimes you just needed to hear it from someone else.

But I barely got two words out before he jumped up and shook his head. "I can't do this right now. I gotta go. I'll see you next week," he said, rushing through the words as he rushed away from me.

Okay, that didn't go quite the way I hoped it would.

I ran my hands over my face, rubbing my temples and trying to remind myself not to take it personally. I had no idea what was going on with him. It might have nothing to do with me. Or I did something wrong.

But I don't know right now so I'm just gonna… do my homework.

I took a deep breath, flipped open my journal and read my "short story" with distaste.

Yeah, it's complete crap. And you really need to do something about your penmanship.

I tried to chase away the gnats like I was supposed to, but I wasn't having much luck. That was the problem with this therapy stuff. It required continuous effort and repetition and faith and in the beginning the only reward was constant failure, again and again and again. I knew exactly what I was doing wrong, but I still did it anyway. Sometimes it just didn't work, or didn't work nearly as well as I'd hoped it would. Self-aware or not, sometimes I wondered if it really made any difference.

I shook my head, labeled my story "first try," and forced myself to flip over to one of the few clean pages left in the journal for the second try.

I tried to rewrite the worst parts and turn it into something that resembled an actual story. Right now it was just a really weird description of Edward.

Looking at the trees and other people scattered around me for help, I rummaged through my brain for some interesting descriptions to throw in and flesh it out a little.

Nothing came to mind.

I was kind of pissed-off with my imagination – I can effortlessly conjure every conceivable worst-case scenario, but coming up with a semi-decent way to describe something good is beyond me? Thanks, life. Thanks a lot.

I kept trying, but it just wasn't happening. I felt like I had to say something and I was painfully aware that I had nothing to say. Describing the trees was a whole bunch of nothing and I just…didn't care.

In the end, I decided to write whatever the fuck I wanted to write. Who cares if the only person who understands it is me? I was the only one who'd ever read it anyway.

Unless…

My mind dredged up a promise I'd made what seemed like a lifetime ago.

I promised Edward that he could read it when it was ready.

Is it ready?

A/N:

Bella calling Edward Edwin in therapy: In chp32, she said she wants to "protect" Edward by not revealing his name. It's Bella's own little rule and not a general rule in therapy.

Thank you to thequietlife, Irritable Grizzzly and revrag. Also sweetstarryeyes and simmerk for the info on group therapy and how different people cope.

And thank you to those who review anonymously or have disabled PMs since I can't thank you directly.

Thanks for reading :)