Good evening! It's minus 3 here is not so sunny England. Ooooo! I have to GUSH (not like that, you perves) about something at the bottom, make sure you read!

Panic seized me as her body fell limp against mine. "Dad," I cried out as the family rushed over to us. I didn't know what to do.

Isabella's face had broken out in a cold sweat, and she was lifeless. Dad reached us as I heard Mom sob in the background. A minute or two later Dad finally looked somewhat calm.

"She's just fainted. Go and get her into bed," he said softly.

I nodded then swept her up in my arms and carried her up the stairs. Once I got to her room, I carefully laid Isabella out on the bed as every worried thought flooded my mind. Is she ill? Do I need to get something for her?

Pacing the floor, I willed her to wake up and tell me what was wrong.

Dad came in about ten minutes later and asked me to sit down. "I think she's suffering from a phobia, or a group of them to be precise. Seeing her yesterday in the bathroom, and with what you've told me about when you got her, it all seems to fit," he said sadly and looked over at her.

"How do we help her, what can we do?" I rushed out then took her clammy hand in mine.

Phobias could be treated, surely. She couldn't keep going through this. What life would that be for her?

"She'll need to speak to someone. We can read all we like from paper and know what's happened, but we have no idea what she's seen or what she's been through from her own point of view. I'm betting that she's suffering from a group of phobias on the DSM-IV classification of mental disorders. I'm suspecting the main two are Traumatophobia and Hemophobia."

"English, please, Dad."

"The fear of being hurt, witnessing trauma, or seeing injuries, and the fear of blood, respectively."

"That would explain her reaction to the blood, but what about the trauma thing, where did you get that idea?" I asked and ran my thumb over the back of Isabella's hand.

"Edward, for an intelligent man, you're as thick as pig shit sometimes. Think back, son. What state was she in when you got her?" He paused to let me think about it. "Go deeper, add the history of her mother and Philip, and that this girl also killed a man when she was only a young girl. That's a lot to cope with within four short years. Is it really so hard to understand why she's locking down now?" he asked quietly.

My mind flooded with visions from that night. How Isabella was bound and gagged, the sores on her wrists and other on points of her body. How distant she was. Then my mind moved to that day in front of the library. The fury in her eyes while she rammed the compass into the man's throat. Next, I thought about this morning.

"Emmett's arm was in a sling, injured. Do you think that's why she fainted?" I asked not taking my eyes from Isabella's sleeping form.

"It could be what triggered it, but to be honest, I think it's more a case of everything catching up with her. See if you can get her to talk when she wakes up. The more she can tell you, the more insight we have, and then we can develop a way to help her," he said as he stood up and left the room.

Leaving her side for a moment, I got a cool washcloth.

"Come on, Isabella, I need to see those pretty eyes again," I whispered sadly while running the cloth over her face and neck.

It was a further ten minutes of clock-watching before her eyes started to flutter open again.

"Hello, sweetheart," I whispered with a smile, relief flooding me.

"I'm sorry," she croaked out sadly.

Anger rushed through me. "Don't you ever apologize for something out of your control," I all but growled out.

Her eyes flashed with fear, and I could have kicked myself.

"I'm sorry, I've just been worried about you," I whispered.

"I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself," she said quietly, but I didn't miss the determination in her voice.

"I know that, and respect it, but I want to look after you, too." I shouldn't have said it, but I couldn't stop myself. I needed her to understand that I would be here for her.

"I'd like that," Isabella said quietly with a hint of a smile.

I went to get the cloth cool again. As I stood in the bathroom, I tried just processing all this. By the time I came back in the room, she was sitting up on the bed.

"You okay now?" I asked while sitting down on the edge of the bed. I ran the cloth over her face again and noticed her eyes never left mine.

"I'm much better, thank you," Isabella replied softly.

"You look better. There's colour back in your face again." I chuckled.

After some more small talk, we decided to go back to how we'd been yesterday and changed back into our robes to watch films in bed. I still had one thing playing on my mind.

Pads Vs. Tampons.

"I'll be right back," I said as I climbed off the bed and headed downstairs. I wanted to ask Mom to get some things without any of the others around.

She was in the kitchen, already busy planning tomorrow's meals.

"Mom, could you go to the store for me? Isabella needs something," I whispered low.

"I'd be happy to go. What does she need?" she asked, happy no doubt that she could be useful.

"Tampons," I replied bluntly.

"Fill me on a few things first," she replied with her arms folded across her chest. This was the side of Mom that no one said 'no' to.

I went on to explain about it being Isabella's period, me helping her out, and also how I thought tampons would be better for her. Mom grew pissed. I hadn't seen her like this in a long time; it was unnerving, to say the least.

"Edward, you can't do this sort of thing for her. It's a woman's place to do this! If her mom were alive, it would be her place, but you should have let one of us ladies help her. The poor girl must be beyond mortified," Mom ranted as she pulled on her coat.

"What choice did I have? She doesn't know anyone that well, including me, but we've spent time together, just us. She's getting to know me, trust me. Mom, you didn't see her when I first picked her up. She was worse than catatonic, worse than when you saw her in the bathroom. If she's going to build trust up with anyone, I want it to be me," I stressed.

I couldn't find a way to get it across how much I craved Isabella's trust. How I wanted her to need me, to come to me for things. I had this unnatural urge to protect her.

"You can't solve and fix every problem, Edward. She needs specialist help, and you can't give her that," she said sadly then walked out of the kitchen and out of the house.

I went back upstairs to see Isabella feeling torn in two. I knew I should have let one of the women in the house see to her, but I'd wanted to be the one she came to.

Had I been wrong? I hoped not. Was I being too personal with her? Would she prefer the women help her? I was so confused. Relief washed through me when I walked back into the bedroom, though.

Isabella had the sweetest smile on her lips when she looked at me. It made everything feel right. Even if for just a few brief minutes.

Bless Edward. What do you think?

So, my 'gush' moment!

So, I'm a HUGE Harry Potter fan, but until recently, I had NEVER read an HP fanfic story! I know, what rock am I living under! My view is that if I think a story or series is 'finished', I don't tend to read any fanfic of it. Anyhoo. My best friend told me to read The Debt of Time by ShayaLonnie.

W.O.W and a rather large touch of O.M.F.G! I have no words, none. Well, I have a lot, but seriously, read the story. It is SO well written, the characters are just... Just read it!

If you've read it, tell me in the reviews, let me know your fave scenes. Omg, Tilly! And I like Draco now and SO much more.

Yeah, see you tomorrow!

PS: Read the damn story! LOL