I do not own Twilight.

Sorry these updates are so late, it's been a long day! But here they are, so enjoy :)


I stare through the glass window of the bright white room and feel like I'm living the same day over and over.

I can see the setup of chairs, a table on the side, the brick walls. I can feel the cold air from in here. I can feel the metal of the seat. I can feel the weight of Edward's gaze, heavy and intense and sad on me, though he's not even in the room.

"Do you want me to go in with you?"

I glance over at Emmett, surprised to see the room filled. The guards make Emmett look small, which is hard to do. They've been here the whole time, but I feel like I'm the only one here.

Beth isn't here, which surprises me.

"He might not talk if I go in," Emmett warns, raising an eyebrow at me and I feel deflated.

My shoulders drop, as does my courage, my indifferent attitude that I had hoped to harbor throughout the day.

"Where's Beth?" I ask instead of answering, because I know the answer I want to give and I know the answer I should give. And I know the answer Emmett wants me to give.

"I told you," Emmett says. "He won't see her anymore."

"You said he won't talk to her," I say, alarmed at this new information. Has Edward been talking to anyone at all?

Emmett shrugs and looks over towards the guard who had led us back to this room. He's holding a manila envelope. It looks professional, serious. Like it could hold images from a crime scene, but I can see the lettering E. Cullen on the tab and I know it's his case file. I wonder why he has it, why he's brought it, and if it's something I'm supposed to look at.

I hope not.

"Edward's denied another therapist," the guard says. The tag on his black suit says Correctional Department, and just below that, Officer Toul.

"He can do that?" I ask, and then feel overly naïve with the way the other guards look at me.

"After the initial first-month processing, the inmates can decide to give up the right to a counselor," Officer Toul states and then glances at his watch and I realize that this is nothing to him, this session, me being here, Edward being here, our past…

None of it means anything to these guards because we're all just stories in manila envelopes locked away in filing cabinets.

All they know of Edward is his anger, his silence, his frustration. They haven't met the Edward I fell head over heels for, the Edward who put me above everything else.

But it doesn't matter because in here, in prison, the Edward I knew doesn't exist.

All that's left is a shell.