Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyers may own names and places, but the characters and plot are ALL MINE!

Hi Friends. We made it. Thank you for sharing this journey with me.
I began writing this story back in April 2010, never having written a fiction story for pleasure before.
I was dealing with my own demons at the time, and writing became a release, a very enjoyable one!
I'm sorry if you found this story too dark at times, but sometimes life is pretty dark. It can also be amazing and inspiring!

Looking back, some of my writing isn't pristine, and I find it awkward at times-we are our own harshest critics!-but it's mine. and I adore it.
I will be going back and editing previous chapters once the Epilogue is posted.

I just wanted to say thank you to you readers-new and old. You guys are humbling and inspiring.
You kept me going when I was stuck in the biggest rut.

From the bottom of my heart, THANK YOU!
And without further ado...

Chapter 30: Thanks for the Memories

EPOV

After triage, Bella was sedated and admitted to the psych floor. I felt lost and fucking numb. That was my soul in there, shredding alongside hers. When she was finally sleeping, Phil and I were allowed into Bella's room to wait with Renee—for what, none of us were entirely sure. Renee sat stiffly in the chair next to the hospital bed, hand grasping her daughter's. That is what I should be doing, my heart told myself. That is my hand to hold. It was a long while before anyone spoke. Phil had moved to Renee's side, hands splayed reassuringly over her shoulders. I made myself small in the corner, unwilling to leave and yet not wanting to cause some dramatic scene by drawing attention to myself.

"I cannot believe I'm sitting here with my baby like this again," Renee whispered, almost to herself. Phil's grip tightened on her shoulders.

"Edward," Renee's cry-hoarse throat croaked louder, casting her eyes upon me for the first time since I had entered the room, "I want to know exactly what happened."

Clearing my own throat, I opened my mouth to speak, but words didn't come. I closed and opened it several more times in attempt to summon the description of what I had just experienced but I had no fucking clue what had happened myself. Exhaling, I decided to tell her about the entire day. Maybe she would see a trigger I hadn't.

"…So then after the movie—which bring a fucking tissue box to, if you see it—we went to that Brew Moon coffee place," I continued. "Everything was still fine, but we were both kind of quiet and stuck in our own heads for a bit. Bella was basically normal all day. I mean, we did see that Alec guy there before we left. I think he made Bella uncomfortable—being back here made her uncomfortable. She started behaving… shit, I don't know how to describe it, but off, ya know? Like, she didn't realize it at the time, but she was practically squeezing my arm off with her death-grip on the way to the car, and practically sat on my lap. Bella has never been clingy, so it was weird for her. I attributed it to seeing so many people today that she had left behind. But…," I paused. I had been the biggest fucking idiot in the whole goddamned world. I was so fucking blind. How could I have not seen it? "Oh… shit…" I said aloud, under my breath in realization.

"What? Edward, shit what?"

"I should have seen that she was off, DAMN IT!" I yelled as I slammed my fists into my armrests.

"Edward, what should you have seen?" Fresh tears threatened to spill again over her already puffy eyes.

"When we got home… Bella and I realized that you guys would be gone for some time and, shit, this is going to be awkward to say," I coughed, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. "Fuck it, Bella and I decided in that moment that on this trip, alone in the house, we were going to… you know… make …love for the first time —"

"The first time?" Renee interrupted. "I thought you two were already…"

"Uh, no… we were waiting. I mean, I knew I was Bella's first, and I love her so much that we wanted to wait until it was right… she was the one that started it!" I explained, pleading for Renee to understand that I would never, not ever betray or fucking hurt her daughter in any way. Over the past few months, it was rapidly becoming clear to me that Bella was my forever. You just don't fuck around on your forever!

"So… wow. Then what happened?"

"I should have known Renee, at the coffee shop," I pleaded. "I should have seen it! I am so sorry!" It was I that who was openly crying now. My poor, poor Bella. My sugar. My Love. My Soul.

"Edward, just fucking tell me!" She cried back.

"When I touched Bella, she started screaming. Her eyes—they glazed over. She didn't even see me anymore! I should have known that Bella wasn't ready! The way she reacted at the coffee shop and then so quickly wanted to jump into bed? Shit! That was on me! I should have fucking known, I am so sorry Bella, sugar," I cried to my medically slumbering girl on the bed. "I should have … fuck." I whispered, losing myself in the powerful emotions. Sob-shaking and ashamed.

"This isn't your fault Edward," Renee cooed, coming around to my side of Bella's bed. "I know you love her, but you didn't break her." Motherly fingers caressed my head and shoulders. "What about the coffee shop?" Remembering when Bella's demeanor shifted, I was flooded with anger, hatred, and the need to fucking burn.

"She saw that motherfucker, that Alec guy there. He took one look at her and left like a coward. THAT'S when she started acting strangely. Wasn't he at the Mallory's the night of the accident? I'd bet my fucking life that that scum-sucking, bottom-feeding fuck-face had something to do with Bella's accident. Now, if you don't mind," I spat through my teeth, rising from the chair, "I am going to find that piece of shit and make him pay." My knuckles aching with clenched tension, white as snow.

Rage like I had never felt before flooded my bloodstream.

I saw red.

I wanted him to burn.

"Edward," Phil warned, and was quickly blocking my exit. "Let's let Bella tell us when she wakes up. She'll need you here and not in jail for murder."

While not what I wanted to hear, and having no alleviating effects on my anger and debilitating sadness and pain, Phil was right.

.::.

Hours passed before the sedation drugs began to wear off and Bella began to slowly wake. Torturous hours spent pacing, resisting the urge to break every bone in Alec's body. Scenario after scenario poured through my mind, each one worse than the previous. All of Bella's previous antisocial and accidental alcoholic tendencies the past six months suddenly seemed underrated. Based upon the "what-ifs" that ran through my head, Bella had a right to be way more fucked up than she had seemed. The knowledge of that suffocated.

I wanted to be her fixer, but what if she didn't want me anymore when she woke up? What if the thought of someone touching her mentally burned her flesh, searing it right off the bones? What if she couldn't love me anymore? I still didn't know for sure what had happened, but pieces started to fall together like a puzzle. It painted a pretty fucking bleak picture.

"Engh," Bella moaned, breathing deeply. All three pairs of eyes immediately shifted focus to her. Warring desires to both reach out and comfort her and to shy away into the corner left me frozen, conflicted. Her long lashes fluttered open and three pairs of lungs stopped drawing breath.

Warily, the deep brown irises scanned the room, settling upon her mother and then me.

"I…I remember everything," she whispered, cracking around the edges, before she and Renee simultaneously erupted into spasming sobs. My breathing returned in sharp, painful gulps. Clasping at her daughter, Renee held Bella as they both crumbled to pieces before my eyes. What could I do? I couldn't risk sending her into hysterics all over again, and yet the physical pain from being separated from her was slicing me like a razor.

Testing, I took a step towards the bed. Bella's eyes popped open immediately, instantly aware of my movement. When our gazes connected more tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes. Reaching out my hand toward her, I tested again. Her mouth hung open, but no sound emerged. Pressing her lips together in decision, she nodded. I took another step—pausing for only a moment—before taking the rest until I was by her side. Afraid to touch her, I stood still, trying to offer some sort of smile for my beautiful, broken girl in the bed. Renee noticed the interaction and released her grip on Bella and slid back into her chair.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath trying to compose myself. She needed my strength.

A small, but surprisingly strong hand gripped mine at my side sending shocks of electricity through me. Bella. My eyes shot open, taking in her impossibly sad, grieving face. Relief, fear, selfishness, anxiety, love, anger, pity, and just about a thousand other emotions ran through me as she held my hand. The biggest one was relief in the fact that she could and would touch me. Joy was short-lived as the guilt and empathy took over.

"Oh, Bella, I'm so, so sorry," I apologized before losing my last bit of strength, and collapsed onto her bed, my face buried in the blankets at her side. As I released the tears I had been holding, Bella's shaky, but tender hand stroked through my hair. It was crazy to think that she was comforting me.

"Can you forgive me?" I pleaded, lifting my shamed head to meet her gaze.

"Edward, you have nothing to be sorry for," she shakily whispered. Bella, too, had given every ounce of her strength to me. Now, it was my turn to give it back again. Grasping her hand once again, I braced myself for the worst to come.

"This is going to be hard, Sugar, but… what happened?" I hated myself the moment the question passed through my lips, but it was utterly fucking necessary. Her face contorted with discomfort, but she remained soundless.

"Maybe we'll give it some time, Edward—" Renee interrupted, shifting uncomfortably in her chair. For a woman that was so child-like herself, her motherly protective instincts were surprisingly strong. Phil looked everywhere around the room except at the three of us.

"No," Bella cut off her mother. "He's right… nearly eight months of not knowing is long enough…" her voice was still shaky, but the message was crystal clear.

"If it's too painful, we can do it later," I offered, squeezing her hand in both of mine.

"I can do it, but I only think I can do it once… uhm," her voice cracked. Taking a deep breath, she went on, "maybe we should get one of the police officers in here from before." Biting her lip, she squeezed shut her eyes withdrawing into herself again.

.::.

"Miss Swan, I'm Officer Biers… I was the one who found you that night. I'm told you have something you would like to tell us?" Police Officer Riley Biers must have been through this sort of thing before because he looked not the least bit uncomfortable, unlike the rest of us. While we were waiting, Renee called Charlie and Emmett to let them know what was going on. Bella remained awake, but kept her eyes closed, allowing me to sit next to her holding her hand. I was afraid for any further physical contact, not knowing what she would be comfortable with. While waiting, I stared at her face the entire time, committing every detail of this moment to memory. Her cracked and bloody lips that remained anchored between her teeth, the puffy pink swelling of delicate skin around her eyelids, the angry redish-pink self-inflicted scratch marks along her cheek that starkly contrasted with the milky pale hue of her skin, the way her mahogany and fire-red hair fanned around her face on the pillow… She looked like a beaten angel.

Bella's eyes opened hesitantly after a beat, nodding her head.

"Is it ok if I record this? That way you only have to give your testimony once," Officer Biers explained. Bella nodded again. "Ok, it's recording. Take your time. We can stop and continue at any time. We don't need to do it all today, ok? You can start when you're ready."

"Uhm," she paused, "well, it was the night of Friday July, 24th, 2009…"

.::.

BPOV

It felt like I was drifting through a suffocating sea of blackness; weightless, bodyless, alone. The last thing I remembered before being engulfed in the drowning darkness was the most blood-curdling scream, which I later realized came from me. While under the spell of desolation, I was assaulted by a memory I thought was lost to me forever. It stabbed at me relentlessly. I wanted to both come out of this nightmare, and to never wake up again: surrendering myself to the darkness and selfish relief of pain.

As the darkness began to thin, the first thing I became aware of was the dull buzzing of the overhead florescent lights permeated with the dueling smells of sterile cleaning supplies and urine. Immediately I knew that I was waking in a hospital, as the curtain of unconsciousness was being lifted. Not a sound was uttered in my room, save for the nearly-silent chirping of the machines tracking my vitals. I thought I was waking alone. Releasing a moan of inner turmoil, I heard the sharp intake of breath from several someones around me, surprising me as I tried to open my eyes.

With the new knowledge I awoke with, I felt as though I was constantly waging a battle within myself between giving into the sheer pain it brought and the will to fight against it. The world around me took on a grey hue, as my eyes greedily searched around my room for the smallest hint of color and comfort. My mom's hazel eyes appeared first, but weren't quite the vibrancy I needed. I settled upon a pair of striking jades, paired with an expression on Edward's face that I'm sure my own matched. It felt as though I stared at him, locked in his watchful study of me for centuries. I lived and died several times while peering into his verdant depths before giving into the searing edge of my grief. Now that I knew what had caused the accident I was even more horrified than I had been while wondering about it beforehand.

I couldn't quite form the words needed to convey the depth of the destruction my soul suffered. I both wanted to scream it so loudly so the world would know about true evil, and yet I wished it never need pass my lips from the extreme embarrassment it caused. It felt as though I was living in an ocean of depthless emotions, riding one wave of feeling one way, and then its counter the other. Land was not in sight.

I felt dirty, unclean. I felt ruined and wronged. I felt sad and shamed.

I felt so many things, and yet nothing at all.

All I could say, and hope that Edward—that someone—would just know, was that I remembered. And he did, they all did. It was enough to break me again, for a time. This was the most humiliating of circumstances, all the crying, the shame, the memories… Even Edward was afraid to touch me—I was afraid for him to touch me, though I badly needed his comfort. But in the end, he was the only one that could make me unafraid again. By giving me the control, I was able to hold his hand. The simple action gave me a sense of hope again, although small as I still had much processing to do.

I lived and died several times more while waiting for Officer Biers to arrive. I remembered the young cop from the previous summer, taking my statement then too. This time, there was empathy there, separate from the detached nature of his occupation. Although it was the last thing I had wanted to do, to talk about the traumatic events of that night, I knew I needed to in order to move on. I had been unwillingly kept silent for the past eight months, something that had already wreaked havoc on my sanity as it was, and Alec needed what was coming to him…

Although it was the lowest I had felt in the past eight months, I was sick of riding along with the dark passenger I had been saddled with. I wanted to exorcise the demons now before even more irrevocable damage was done to my battered, but not beaten, soul.

As I first began to relay the events of that day, my voice was shaking and full of the many sentiments that were running through me. Eventually, a numbness took over as I relayed the facts with an almost cold detachment. My tears stopped when I told them that Alec kissed me for the first time. Edward's jaw snapped tight, and I could see the straining tendons as he tried to keep his composure. The clinical tone settled into my voice as I described how his cold, clammy hands had initially slithered their way down my pajama pants. By the time I told them I then succumbed to the darkness of unconsciousness, not a dry eye was in the room, save for Officer Biers who was choking at the effort to keep them at bay. It made me wonder if he ever had to take a statement quite like this before. He seemed pretty young.

It was fucking uncomfortable. It was humiliating and scary… I felt like it had just happened to me all over again, but I also felt a lightness, a weight lifted—even if a small one—as I unburdened myself. Ever so calmly, I reached to the bucket on the bedside table and ungracefully emptied the liquid contents of my stomach into it. It was then that my tears and hysterics returned in full gale-force. Edward, who held my hand through the entire retelling, sat on the bed and pulled me to him. I sat on his lap, curled into his chest, and cried myself into dehydration and eventually a numb sleep.

.::.

The sleeping drugs they had me on were glorious; they made dreaming nearly impossible, a luxury that someone like me—a victim of sexual assault…no, not a victim: a survivor—dearly needed. Only by the grace of their sedation did I sleep through the night. With the new day, I was also given new information about my…condition and prognosis. They told me my freak-out the previous night was an episode of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, commonly referred to as PTSD. It was likely triggered by seeing Alec. I had started having an acute panic attack that worsened when I tried to have sex with Edward... or at least that's how I understood it.

"Isn't that what the soldiers coming back from Iraq have?" I questioned, confused.

"Yes," Dr. Gerundy—the Resident Psychiatrist—replied. "It is also commonly suffered by people that have experienced extreme trauma such as catastrophic natural disasters, car accidents, assault, etc—in your case you suffered through both. It's safe to assume that your emotional recovery will be a deeply personal and challenging journey. Bella, there is no schedule for healing with this sort of thing. Emotional scars are entirely unique. I suggest taking a daily anti-depressant/anti-anxiety medication as well as an as-needed medication for future panic attacks… there likely will be some. You need to take care of yourself by eating well; getting exercise regularly, managing stress, and seeing some sort of therapist to sort through and cope with the hand you've been dealt."

I tried to listen with an open mind and an open heart. I didn't want to feel like the little child of darkness anymore, but the idea of more therapy made me cringe. It was a disaster the last time I tried it…then again, I needed to talk to someone about all this shit I've been through and I didn't want to burden Edward anymore than I already had.

"What the hell does eating right have to do with my anxiety?" I scoffed, prolonging my impeding acceptance of his "prescription." I knew he was right, but I didn't feel comfortable admitting it yet.

"Eating a well-balanced, plant-strong diet full of the various vitamins and minerals has shown to help with not only physical health, but mental wellness too."

"Ok," I replied with hollowness in my voice.

"Bella," the young physician paused, giving me a half-smile of reassurance, "I know this is difficult, but you're worth the effort. If you'd like, I can see if I can find someone you can talk to? I have many contacts in Washington."

"She won't be going back to Washington. She's staying here with me," my mother interrupted. She and Edward were the only ones I let stay while Dr. Gerundy talked to me.

"The hell I am!" I yelled. "If I couldn't stand to be here after the accident and you fucking think I'd be comfortable living in this place NOW, then you've lost your damn mind, woman!" My heart began to race and tightness started to grip my chest—the telltale signs of an impending panic attack.

"Bella, calm down," Edward whispered, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear with affection. "Breathe."

"Well she is," I muttered, rolling my eyes and crossing my arms over my chest in the typical teenage pose.

"Bella," Renee pleaded.

"No. Nothing's changed. I still choose to live there. That's home now."

"But, you need me," her voice squeaked. I regarded my mom for a moment, taking in her honey-highlighted chestnut hair and bright hazel eyes that were beginning to leak once again. She was so beautiful in her child-like wonder of the world. I had always envied her for that. What I was about to say was absolutely necessary, but I knew it would cause her more distress, so I bid my time for as long as I could keep myself quietly staring at her.

"Then you can visit. For once in your life mom, grow up and be the parent: not the child. Think of what's best for me." I was proud of myself for keeping my tone even, and reigning in the waves of conflicting emotions. Those were the words I had wanted to say to her for a very long time. Although I had said it calmly, Renee looked as though I had just reached across my bed slapped her face. Her jaw hung loose in shock, eyes widened in disbelief. Slowly, acceptance colored her face and her jaw closed with resolution.

"Ok, I'll come for a long visit." She got up and left the room after that, presumably to go find Phil to cry to. I looked to Edward and then to Dr. Gerundy, both eerily quiet.

"Was that too harsh?" I questioned, uncertain of anything anymore.

"Uhm…" Edward attempted, not really sure of what to say.

"Sometimes strong, unpleasant medicine is necessary to cure what ills you… I do, however, think that you probably have a lot more to talk to a therapist about than just what landed you in here," Dr. Gerundy admitted. Guilt alleviated, I accepted and agreed with his answer despite its prodding at my pride.

"Ok. I'll talk to someone. Uhm… when can I go home?" I asked.

"I can discharge you now, if you feel ready."

"I do."

Ready for what, I hadn't a clue.

.::.

"He fucking confessed!" Edward yelled down the hall of Renee and Phil's ranch home. He found me in my old room, sitting in my armchair with my knees pulled tightly to my chest, staring at the floor where my open suitcase lay. My hair was knotted in a bun on top of my head, still unwashed after my stay at the hospital. Mustering the energy to pack my suitcase to head back to Forks drained what little I had left.

"Your mom just got the call—that fucker confessed, Bella," he tried to engage me, but I felt numb once again.

Kneeling down in front of me, Edward looked up into my eyes, probing for a read on my stability. Lightly grasping my hands, he tried again.

"Bella? Do you have anything to say about it?" he questioned.

"How can you still want me after everything he did to me?" I mumbled. "I'm disgusting," I spat, clenching my eyes closed, shutting out the world.

"No! No, I won't let you say that—I won't let that piece of shit ruin us. You're not ruined. You are NOT disgusting. Listen to me, Bella! You are beautiful, inside and out. You've stared the devil in the face and lived. You survived Bella. You fought, and you got away before something worse could happen. You're… you're amazing sugar. I am so incredibly proud of you. I won't let that bastard take anything else from you." His sincerity melted the stifling chill that lingered around my torn and stitched heart. It beat only for him now, as it was.

"Look at me, baby." My eyes fluttered open without a second thought. "I love you. I love every flaw, every scar, and every dark part of your psyche. I love your beauty, your kindness, and your light. Can't you see that to me, you are the most perfect creature ever created? You, sugar, are a fighter. You fought him then, just as now you'll have to fight for your sanity. You're stronger than you know. So don't you ever fucking question why I want you again, got it? I'd die before I'd ever let you go." Once again, tears began to slide down my cheeks of their own accord. My heart swelled with love and pride for this beautiful man in front of me—for Edward had surely become a man in my eyes overnight. He was a protector, a provider, and my personal safe place.

"I love you too," was all I could manage in the fragile state I was in. "Thank you." In a gesture of comfort, Edward wiped at the stream of falling liquid. He hated my tears, with good reason. He leaned up from his knees and placed a gentle kiss to each cheek before recapturing my gaze with his piercing emeralds.

"Now, can I finish telling you the good news?" he hedged. I nodded. "Good. He plead guilty to aggravated sexual assault and attempted rape, sugar. He's going away for a long time," he smiled. "How does that make you feel?" Dr. Gerundy must have given Edward some pointers on how to engage in conversations about difficult subject matter with me. He was the only one not treating me as breakable as I felt. He was the only one that truly seemed to know what was good for me, what I could handle.

"Conflicted," I admitted, shrugging. "I'm glad he didn't deny it. I'm glad he's going to pay for what he did…but I feel sorry for his family… and it still doesn't even come close to making it right," I sighed. "I guess it just doesn't feel real yet. I mean… I only gave my statement two days ago…"

"You think it's happening too fast?" He asked, seeing to the core of it.

"Yea. I mean, does that sort of thing really happen this way? I thought it takes time for the legal system to sort things out… I don't know," I gave up. The only thing that was more confusing than my situation was my thoughts.

"I understand what you're saying, but I also think he has been sitting with his guilt for eight months. If he has any sort of conscience, it should have been eating him alive for all that time."

I stared at him pointedly. Conscience, him? As if.

"I'm just saying…" he defended. "He's a terrible human being that deserves to rot in prison. I just hope he feels some sort of guilt and that it eats him alive, is all," Edward chuckled.

"Can we not talk about this anymore right now? I'm kind of done with it…" I asked. I didn't have space in my brain—or the energy—to think about him for even another moment.

"I have other updates…if you're up for it," my Love offered. "From Forks."

Oh my god, the trial! I had all but forgotten the reason I had even come back to Phoenix, the domino that fell, striking down the rest of them that had been stacked against me eight months ago.

"And?" I pushed, eager to know more. It was an almost welcome distraction. It was a different sort of anxiety all-together.

"It's going well," he replied succinctly.

"That's it? It's going well? What does that mean!?" I badgered. If Edward was distracting me on purpose, it was working.

"Yea, well. Victoria testified. Apparently she had a lot of good information to provide. Things that we couldn't even conceive of. The shit with James and Aro's crew ran much deeper than any of us thought," he added. "A lot of evidence has come to light, so it's looking good."

"Wow. Who'd you hear it from?" I was suddenly very curious and apprehensive.

"Alice. She called while you were napping. She sends her love… she's been sitting with Emmett. They've been watching the news together like crazy." At the mention of his name, my heart lurched for my brother. I told my mom to tell them not to fly down here to be with me. It was unnecessary. It's not like someone died… other than a part of me—or at least it seemed that way. I'd be coming back soon… and I told her to tell them what happened. I couldn't do it myself. I wasn't strong enough yet.

"That's… nice of her." I offered, swallowing the thick knot that was forming at the back of my throat.

"It's going to be ok, Love."

"I know," I agreed. It would be, eventually. It had to be. We needed it to be.

.::.

I stepped off the plane, flanked by Edward and Renee—both had refused to leave my side for even a moment, afraid that public contact would send me in a downward spiral. In reality, I found the exposure almost freeing. Not hiding in a dark corner for the rest of my life gave me back a little piece of the control I had lost, just a sliver, but it gave me hope. I saw Emmett waiting for me first, his large figure hard to miss. He almost ran to me, and hugged me so tight.

"Belley, I'm so sorry," he whispered to me, his voice shaky.

"Thanks," I squeaked in return, almost losing the tenuous grasp at controlling my emotions.

When Emmett released me and stepped to greet our mother, I saw Charlie for the first time. He looked like a broken man and it nearly killed me, taking the breath right from my lungs. I had never seen my father cry before, except for at his father's funeral when I was five, but he was openly weeping now that he saw me. Out of every dark and hopelessly depressing soul-crushing moment I had experienced the night of the accident and since, this had to of nearly been the worst. It almost shattered what little sense of sanity I had been attempting to put back together since I recovered my memories.

Charlie took me into his arms for a bone-crushing hug, shaking with tears I didn't know he was capable of. Charlie, my strong, compartmentalized, Police-Chief father was clinging to me with such rawness I had never experienced. We cried together like that until we felt it safe to release one another.

"I'm so sorry Bells," he choked.

How many corpses had he seen? How many motorcycle accidents on the rain-slicked winding highways had he been called to? Being the Chief, he must have seen every terrible thing to happen to that town for the last twelve years, and the five years he was just your average cop before that. When our twin-chocolate eyes met, he looked at me like I was the most devastating thing he had ever seen.

"Thank you, daddy," I attempted, sniffing back all the tears I had yet to shed.

My father's reaction had been the worst, but I survived it, and so did he. Once you've been through the worst of something, it doesn't necessarily make surviving the rest easy, but it makes it more bearable. Back at the house, Dad ordered pizza, Mom put on a movie with Emmett, and I fell asleep half on Edward's lap on the couch. It was the most normal thing we had done in days and it felt amazing.

Slowly, things would return to normal. Healing would take place, and I would get the help I needed. I stayed home from school that first week—as did Edward—telling everyone that we had extended our spring break in Phoenix by a week. It was no one's damn business anyhow. Dr. Gerundy had given me the name of a trusted friend of his, Psychologist, Dr. Kate Willows. She was nothing like Dr. Uley. In fact, she was instrumental in helping me process through the grief I had been suffering due to what I had experienced. Renee left after the second week, promising to return soon. It was her sign of affirmation that I was going to be ok. Slowly, the numbness started to fade. I had bad days and good days. But eventually, the good far outnumbered the bad.

Part of my therapeutic regimen was to stop taking any and all mind-altering drugs except for those prescribed to me. I flushed my brownies and poured out my alcohol.

I wanted to do more than merely survive. I wanted to thrive. Edward was with me, every step of the way, pushing me further along than I knew myself capable of. Each day, I fell more in love with him. He was my forever. I wanted to be better for him and our future, not just for myself anymore.

Into the beginning of May, the jury returned a verdict on the Volterra/Smith trial. Guilty on seventeen counts of drug possession with intent to distribute, a couple felonies, and too many misdemeanors to remember. Life in prison stared them in the face. It was vindicating.

With another chapter coming to a close, I found myself thinking a lot about what had happened over the past ten months. It was chaotic and messy. There were so many moments of exciting highs, and yet the lows almost outmatched them. I was truly finding myself again, a journey I had undertaken last July unwillingly. Now, I looked forward to learning about myself. I wanted to know who I was and to accept and love myself for it. I wanted to be a person worth being admired the way Edward did me.

At the suggestion of Kate, I began to keep a journal. At first, it was filled with thoughts and daily activities. I chronicled my emotions as if to make sense of the relentless waves that seemed to beat against me at times. I found myself adding in more artistic flourishes like a poem or two here and there, whenever inspiration would hit. In addition to the journal, I started to write opinion or observational essays about the world I experienced. I began to write stories too—fiction. Plots flowed through me and characters took over. It was the most cathartic thing I had done, starting to write. In this, I realized my passion for writing and found my new calling in life. I wanted to be a writer. With purpose and a direction, I felt nearly whole. The satisfying part was that I did it all for myself. Yes, some days being locked up in my thoughts were pure agony, but it was the naming and releasing of the thoughts and feelings that plagued me, that truly healed me.

Sometimes, you have to be your own knight in shining whatever.

.::.

A/N: Thank you for reading! What are we thinking? How are we feeling?
Let me know ;o).

Once again, you readers rock. It's crazy that this all began three and a half years ago when I was nearly 21
and drowning in my own dusk. (Now I'm 24 and thriving!)

Up next, the Epilogue. It's not finished yet... and it's going to take some time.
In the mean time...

.::.

I will be adventuring into a new story, all written. I wrote it in four days. What can I say, it was stuck on me.
Please read it :o)
It is called: The Last of the Letters

XOXO,

~FabulosiTyxXx~