Hello everybody! I know, I know...it's been a veeery long freaking time since I've updated. Sorry. To make it up to you, I'm giving you not one, but two long ass chapters (the second will be posted tomorrow). Hope you'll like it. Anybody who is still reading and following me, thank you, thank you, thank you. Means a lot to me. :)

Well...let's get into it. Enjoy!

Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. All mistakes are mine.

Chapter 3

My name is Isabella Swan, and I think I might be going crazy.

Then again, how do crazy people even know they're crazy, you know?

I'm writing shit, I know, but honestly, dear diary, you are the only one who knows my deepest, darkest secrets.

My dreams, hopes, fears, feelings. Accomplishments.

Yes, I know this might sound a bit lonely, thinking that I don't have anyone. But I actually do.

Alice knows all about my dreams. She loves them. I, on the other hand, do not.

It is easier for me to pretend it is all imagination, instead of some higher purpose I'm supossed to be on.

Sounds crazy, I know.

So, why me? A question I've been asking myself my whole damn life.

A: Hey, I'm having a date today, can't wait! Wanna join us?

B: And be a third wheel while you two dry hump on the table? Again? No thank you.

A: Hey! We did not dry hump! Tehnically...

B: Could have fooled me.

A: Come on. He has a friend. He's hot. You'll like him.

B: Another one? No thanks. The only man that is gonna be waiting for me in my apartment is B&J.

A: BJ? Sounds dirty.

B: Ben and Jerry. Get your head out of the gutter.

A: Funny. Well...Suit yourself. You're gonna regret this.

B: Doubt it.

A: Fine. Be alone. I'm done setting you up.

B: Doubt it.

A: Funny. You crack me up.

B: I know.

A: I was being sarcastic.

B: So was I.

A: Whatever. Gotta go. Jasper is waiting for me.

B: Have fun.

A: Will do.

There he is. In my dreams again.

We walk next to each other. He looks resilient, yet ashamed somehow?

I take a look at my clothes but I don't recognize it.

Why? Because it seems, once again, we are not in the 21th century. Looking around, all I see is destruction and chaos. Sadness. War.

"Hey," he says, taking my hand instantly. The warmth and pleasure of that simple act makes me search for words. I don't know what to say, how to behave. My body never felt such strange yet pleasant emotions in my entire adult life.

His skin is soft yet rough around the edges. Filled with blisters and blood.

I don't care though. I tighten his hand in mine and smile. It fells bittersweet and blissful at the same time.

For a moment, it is just us. There is no war, no sadness, no violence. Only us. Only him. Only me.

Then it all goes to hell.

"I'm being transferred tonight."

"What? Why?!"

But we both know the answer.

"I can't stay for long. Do you want to maybe go get some coff..."

"I'm pregnant," I blurt out.

A few heads turn around, but I don't give a damn.

"What?! Is...is it mine?"

I pull my hand away from his, heart pierced through and stabbed repeatedly with tiny little needles.

Breathe. Can't breathe from the pain.

"Whose would it be? You're such an asshole!"

"Sorry. I'm sorry. I just...I'm surprised."

"Well, join the club," I mutter harshly.

He takes my hand again and pulls us toward the bench outside. I let him.

Taking a seat, we are both silent, knowing there is no way out.

"What now?" he whispers, but mostly to himself.

A deep deflated sigh. "I don't know."

"If there was any other way..."

"I know," I whisper, tears filling my eyes.

He quickly wipes them away before they reach my cheeks.

"We'll find a way. I promise."

"How?" I ask, suddenly sobbing.

Panic overwhelms me. All I can do is take short shallow breaths. Feels like my heart is being crushed by an elephant, my eyes getting blurry and all I can do is gasp for air.

1.2.3. Breathe.

"Hey, hey, look at me. It's fine, you're just having a panic attack. It will pass. Concentrate on me. On my eyes. Good. Very good. Now breathe."

I take a deep dive into his beautiful green eyes. As I concentrate more on them, I realize they are not completely green, but have a splotch of brown around his pupils. Reminds me of nature. Of trees and dirt. Of childhood and safety. Of my old home. Of love. Peace. Strenght.

I always did love his eyes. One of the things I recognized immediately upon meeting him.

"I like your eyes," I whisper, able to speak again. "Always did. Did I ever tell you that?"

He smiles, almost shyly.

"I like yours too."

A heavy deflated sigh. „What are we going to do? We can't live like this."

"I don't know, but we will find a way out. I swear. Believe me Bella, please."

"I do. Always," I say instantly.

"Good. We'll find a way. You know we will."

"Always," I repeat, once more.

I suddenly wake up with a sob, putting my hand over the mouth in order not to scream. Even after the dream is done I still hear the voices.

Still can hear the screams, feel the anguish, feel the overwhelming pain, and terror of the war that terorized every single living person over the years. What confused me even more is how did I know...

How did I know that I was volunteering as a nurse in the hospital? Surounded day after day with injuries and blood curling screams that were my everday occurence. Fighting with death. Fighting for soldiers' lives.

Theirs.

Mine.

How did I know we met exactly like that? Him sitting on the hospital bed with wounds all over his body, particularly his left hand, fighting, and yet poorly so, weak from the blood loss. Thankfully, the bullet pierced him only superficially.

Still, it took three nurses to calm him down and try to get him the help he needed.

I forced him to concentrate, to look upon my eyes as the nurses tried to fix him up.

That's where the magic began. Where I felt the tingle. Felt this strange warmth come all over my body with just one look from him.

Even after the nurses were done and the wounds were taken care of, he still kept his eyes on me. Felt like an eternity.

Until it wasn't.

As I pick up my bathrobe from the hanger, deciding to wear it, my drowsy feet take me to the bathroom to wash out my crying face. After I'm done, I take a glass of water from the kitchen and go straight to the living room.

Turning on the tv, there is a re run of Friends.

I've seen them more than ten times, but they kind of soothe me. Make me forget about my own nightmares.

I'm in the middle of the third episode when my own eyes close for the second time. Fortunately, there is only darkness, and that's how it stays, 'till the early morning.

Thanks for reading!