I don't own Twilight, but I do own the rest. Try to remember that, okay?

2.

If I'm going to hell, I may as well do it thoroughly.

Someone coughs and I look up to see John, one of the supervisors in the lunchroom. He nods down at me, "Bella."

I don't return the acknowledgement and my food tray is abruptly toppled to the floor. "Pretty clumsy there, you might want to pick that up - Dr. Thompson isn't good with messes you know."

I clench my teeth, forcing a nod back to him. Tears prickle at my eyes but I blink them fiercely until they are swallowed to the back of my throat. "Yeah, I'll get it."

"What was that?"

Sighing, I glare at him. "Yes, sir."

He pats my head condescendingly before walking away. I collect the plastic fork and spoon in my hand and that's when I notice that the plate holding my food is shattered, all over the floor. There's food everywhere.

Just as I'm about to get up for a garbage can and rag, a pair of huge fluffy slippers come into my view - they appear to be grizzly bear ones due to the claws on the end of each toe. A face floats down in front of me and a big olive toned man stares into my vision. Dreadlocks hang from the sides of his round face - they remind me of confetti. "You all right?"

Incoherent blinks cloud me a couple times and then I squeak out a "yes". The man smiles and offers his hand to me and I take it, the feeling of warmth flowing through my fingers. Something about his demeanor isn't threatening at all. Most men frighten me.

"I'm Mel Orwell," he tells me as he helps me to my feet. I try to stifle the giggle but it ends up coming out in a snort.

"Your name is Orwell?"

"Yeah, but no - I'm not related to the brilliant George." His face breaks out into a goofy grin. "But people usually call me Confetti."

"Cool. I can see why, the hair." We both laugh.

"You have Brown Eyes, kinda like that song by Van Morrison."

"I like Golden Autumn Day, personally." Smirking at him, I suddenly hear tapping on the rooftop. Excitement fills me and I almost forget about the mess but he notices.

"Let's get this cleaned up."

"Dr. Thompson won't like that."

"He's your doctor?"

"Yeah," I reply bitterly.

"All the more reason for me to help then," he chuckles humorlessly. "Don't call that guy a doctor - that's a title you earn." We finish cleaning up and I race outside with him behind me, basking in the wetness. I could swear I hear a baseball game in the distance.

The rain falls on our faces as we lay in the grass and I crook my head to side, staring at him.

"What?"

"Nothing," I turn away quickly.

"No, what are you staring at. It's okay."

Is it making him uncomfortable? "I'm trying to decide if you're really here or not."

"Why would you ask if I'm real?" His eyebrow furrows.

He could call me crazy and never want to talk again but I shake my head. "You better not make fun of me." I try to turn my attention back to the sky, letting the moisture graze my face. I want to drown in the feeling of it.

"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours..."

I pull my palms lazily up to my face and sigh into them. "You'll think it's pathetic."

"I'll decide my own opinion, thanks," he retorts.

"I study him for a minute, a war raging inside. "Someone I loved...left."

"Oh," the answer is barely a whisper. The only sounds I hear now are the waving of the trees and pats of water droplets melting down, meeting like silk with the grass. I pick up a piece and twirl it in my fingers. Confetti's eyes are closed and he suddenly looks back at me. "You're in this place because someone left you?"

"Well, I'm sick. Actually I have what's called schizophrenia. I see things that aren't there, hear voices, have delusions." My voice is hollow, even to me.

Without missing a beat, he replies, "Suicide attempt. Someone I loved passed away."

"You seem so upbeat though."

" 'A man who is of sound mind is one who keeps the inner madman under lock and key.' "

"Paul Valery?"

"That's right," he smiles.

"Tell me another one," I plead.

He seems to stare past me as he relents, " 'God has given you one face and you make yourself another.' "

"Hamlet," I muse easily. "Let me try."

" 'Stand up and walk out of your history.' "

"Not familiar with that one," he admits.

"Phil McGraw, though I have no idea who he is, I just liked it."

"You know - the way you phrase it is kinda sad." He ruffles my hair.

I think of another quote, one that I know he won't recognize. "I decided as long as I was going to hell, I might as well do it thoroughly." Even though he left, even though I wasn't quite enough to keep him.

The next thing he says throws me for a loop. "Don't dwell on someone who's not worth your time. They don't belong on a pedestal, whoever they are."

"How did you -"

"How did I guess? I don't know."

"You just said someone left you -"

"No, someone I loved died. They're two different things. Think about it, 'If you love someone, let them go, if they return they were always yours. If they don't they never were.'"

He helps me up - my legs asleep from sitting on the ground. But it is my fault they left - I'm human, I'm sick. I'm nothing.

It dawns on me that I'm wasting my time here because vampires don't exist, which means...Edward never did. None of them do. Maybe I'm just a dream, maybe this whole thing is just another dream made up in my head.

The doctors aren't real and if they are, they're just helping me. John is frustrated at me because I'm making things harder for them. Confetti's a figment of my imagination that the people in the TV are broadcasting - they're evil. They want to hack into my brain.

It will be as though I never existed...

And when I picture that face, my insides plummet. I feel bile rising in my throat and the hallucination is blurring in front of me, calling and shouting things I can't hear. Everything shuts down - my mind protecting itself, swallowing me in its shell.

Alice swims before me and Emmett, even Rose. White coats surround me and I throw my hands out to grab onto something. Right as the blue spots cloud my sight, I vomit on a pair of shoes.

It will be as though I never existed...

Then, there's nothing.