***CHAPTER WARNING***
This chapter will not be an easy one to read. There are scenes of severe depression and self harm. If these are things that are difficult for you to tolerate, then I would suggest skipping this chapter.
The doctors kept Samantha in the hospital for two days just to make sure everything was okay. Thankfully everything was just fine. No one really knew what caused the problems during my delivery; they all just said that these things just sometimes happen. I was never happier to be home than the day I got to leave the hospital with my baby. Edward had made arrangements with the Board of Directors at CP so that he could take an extended leave of absence. They all understood once they found out what had happened when Sam was born.
I think everything that happened was a wakeup call for Edward. We started talking to each other more, and we were really, truly communicating with each other. He admitted to needing to work on his priorities, and I admitted to needing to work on being more independent. Edward stayed home for three months with us, and it was some of the greatest time that we spent together as a family. He did occasionally show up at his office, just to keep track of everything, and occasionally would work a day or two from home, but for those three months, Edward's sole focus was on me and our family. Elliott and Michael loved having their dad around so much, and I think we were becoming a stronger family because of it.
Rose and Alice even noticed the changes in us, telling me when we would meet up for coffee to catch up how Edward and I seemed to be happier now more than we ever were before. It was true, we were. Things were looking up. There were still some cracks in our relationship that needed to be patched up, but I understood these things took time, we'd eventually get everything back to the way it should be. Edward had even agreed to see a counselor with me so we could work on our relationship together after I told him how I felt I was losing him and that I needed him to be a full partner in our relationship. The only thing he asked was that we kept the fact that we were seeing a therapist quiet, which I readily agreed to. I mean, it wasn't anyone else's business, so I had no problem with keeping it to ourselves. Our parents didn't even know.
Admittedly, I was nervous beyond belief when Edward said he was going to start working again. I knew we had made progress, but I wasn't sure we had gotten far enough in rebuilding us as a couple for things to stay on course now that Edward was going back to work. I worked hard to keep my fears and doubts at bay, not wanting them to invade my mind and sabotage the progress we had made so far. Edward was wonderful though. He made it home every night for dinner, spent time with the kids, and even made sure that he and I went out on a date night once a week. We were stronger than ever, and our therapist even said that it would be fine for us to move our sessions to an as needed basis. I guess I should have known better, seeing how good everything was going, that it wouldn't and couldn't last.
Just after Samantha's first birthday, Edward had to start working more often. It wasn't anything like how he used to be, but one or two nights a week, he'd miss dinner because of meetings at CP. I understood though, the economy was on a shaky footing and even thought the medical industry was relatively secure, there was still some damage control and some pre-emptive decisions that needed to be made. The straw that finally broke the camel's back though was when the economy completely and utterly tanked. It was a threat to CP's future. A crappy economy meant less people willing to fund or invest in the research that Cullen Pharmaceuticals engaged in to develop new drugs, a situation which could spell disaster for the company. Edward was back to working crazy hours and I could already feel everything we worked so hard to build starting to crumble around me.
I tried to stay positive, but Edward was so stressed from work, and I was stressed from trying to get used to completely managing three kids and a home on my own again now that Edward was working all the time, that the distance between us started to rear its ugly head again. I would attempt to make plans for Edward and I, or for all of us as a family, but Edward would just tell me not to bother, that he had too much going on at work that he needed to deal with. Within the blink of an eye, the old Edward was back. He made it to the kids events whenever he could, and as far as I was concerned…I was back to being unnoticed.
I tried asking him to go back to therapy with me, but he told me he didn't have time for that kind of bullshit when his company needed him, that his employees needed him to do his job so that he could try to keep them from losing theirs. After he said that I asked him what about what the kids and I needed, but he just scoffed at the question telling me that he would always be there for his children and that I had nothing to complain about since he provided me with a comfortable life.
He just didn't get it. I didn't care about how big the house was or the material things, or what kind of car I had to drive. I just wanted my husband back; I wanted to feel loved again. But the distance between us grew, the old cracks resurfaced, and seemingly, we were more distant from each other now than we were in the past. I tried to talk with Rose and Alice about it, but they didn't seem to understand my side of things, asking me what I expected Edward to do with the economy the way it was and him needing to do whatever he could to keep his company intact. Suddenly, I became the Debbie Downer in our group, and they started pulling away too. I can't blame them, all I ever had to talk about were my problems, and really…who wanted to listen to that every time we hung out.
I guess seeing my friends pull away was what made me realize how alone I really was. My parents certainly didn't understand or even care to try to, my husband was more like a phantom with how little I saw him, and my friends couldn't deal with me and my "insecurity issues" as they called them. I think this was when I started letting the darkness consume me. I started just running on autopilot. I stopped feeling, just doing whatever I needed to in order to make it through the day.
I slam my hand down on the alarm clock to stop its incessant beeping before getting up and out of bed with a sigh. As usual, the other side of the bed, Edward' side is empty, the only sign that he came home last night at all is that the sheets on his side are messy, indicating that he actually slept here last night. I make the bed quickly before shuffling to the bathroom to take a shower and get dressed. I quickly go through the motions of getting ready for the day, not even bothering to really check how I look in the mirror or make sure I look okay in what I'm wearing. It doesn't matter, no one notices me, no one cares.
Making my way down the hall, I check on Sam who is still asleep, and then make my way to Michael and Elliott's rooms. Grumpily, Elliott makes his way out of bed to get ready for school and help his brother get ready as well. After seeing that he's definitely up and moving and not just going back to bed, I head back to Sam's room, wake her up and get her dressed. I smile as she hugs me, I love my children, they're the only ones who seem to know I even exist anymore. Once Sam is ready for the day, I head downstairs with her and get breakfast going for the kids. Just as everything is ready, my boys come into the kitchen and sit down to eat.
Once everyone is done with breakfast, I pile all three kids into the car and make my way towards Elliott's school to drop him off and then to Michael's preschool to drop him off for the day as well before running some errands and heading back home with my baby girl. Walking in the door, I sigh as I look around the house. I hate this part of my day, where I'm truly and utterly alone. I love my little girl, but I need more than just the connection to my children. I need to feel like I actually matter to someone. I set Samantha in the kid's playroom so she can watch Sesame Street and turn on the baby monitor so I can try and straighten up the kitchen and get the laundry started.
I go through all the bedrooms, collecting the dirty laundry. Once I'm in the laundry room I sort everything and get the first load of wash going before making my way to the kitchen. I stop in the hallway, looking at one of our family pictures that hang on the wall. It was from when Samantha was six months old. It was my favorite picture that was taken of us that day. I'm holding the baby, Edward is holding Michael, and Elliott is in between us, one arm wrapped around each of us. We're all smiling in that picture, happy…I haven't really smiled or been happy in a long time. I'm not even sure I remember what happy feels like. Lost in my thoughts, I end up bypassing the kitchen and head to the family room.
Sitting on the couch, I look around the room, at all the pictures on the walls, shelves and tables. Memories of family vacations, birthdays, and holidays surround me, and yet, I can look at each of these pictures and even though there might be a smile on my face in all of them, there is just a handful where the smile is actually genuine. I feel the tears start to fall, and immediately get angry with myself for letting the emotions through. I've been so good with keeping them hidden and locked away. It's been so much easier not feeling, that now when my emotions make their presence known, I feel like I'm being shredded to bits by how overwhelming the pain is.
Curling up into a little ball, I finally let all the walls come down as a gut wrenching sob escapes my throat. My body shakes as I cry. I feel like I'm mourning because I'm surrounded by the memories of everything I had, everything I've managed to lose. I don't want to feel like this anymore. I can't take it; I need to find a way to make it all stop. I want to be able to lash out and scream and break things, but I can't, it isn't an option. Samantha is here, and the boys will be home in a few hours. Plus, Edward would notice I'm sure and then I'd have to listen as he complains about my leaving him another mess to clean up and how I need to just stop being dramatic and moping around about every little thing.
I can hear through the baby monitor that Sam's show is almost over, and try to get myself back under control. I don't need my child seeing me like this. My chest heaves rapidly as I take in gulps of air to try to calm myself and I use the sleeve of my shirt to wipe off my face. Clearing my throat, I head to the playroom and play with Samantha for a few minutes before bringing her to the kitchen so she can have lunch. I set her in her booster seat before preparing her meal. After she finishes eating, I read a story to her. Halfway through she falls asleep, so I carry her to her room and set her down so she can nap.
Once Sam is settled in, I head back to the kitchen to try to straighten everything up. As I go to put a few things away in the fridge, I notice the date on the calendar, and a fresh bout of tears emerge. It's mine and Edward's anniversary. I didn't even realize it was coming up, and I'm quite sure that Edward didn't realize either, seeing as he noted on the calendar that he had some sort of business dinner tonight. I just feel so lost, so willing to give anything to make all the pain go away. I wasn't any happier not feeling anything, but this hurt is beyond torturous, especially when I know that there's no one for me to turn to about it.
I make my way to the sink, and start rinsing everything before loading the dishwasher. I get lost in my thoughts from the monotony of the task. All that I think of is how I wish my husband still loved me the way he used to and that I still mattered to him and my family and friends before my thoughts drift to how I need the pain to go away, I need to be able to stop feeling and yet at the same time I wish I could feel at the same time. I'm so torn and lost I just don't know what the solution is. I must be sobbing, because as my shoulders shake from crying, I manage to drop a glass in the sink, causing it to break. The way the light hits it, causing it to sparkle, it's as if someone was sending me a sign, there is a way for me to fix it all, to make the pain stop, to be able to feel again if only for a brief moment.
I pick up one of the larger glass shards and turn it over in my hand, tracing my finger over the edges, feeling its sharpness, realizing how easily it could slice through my flesh. I let the jagged edge press against my finger tip; I feel the bite and the sting as it pierces through my skin, a small bubble of blood forming where the cut was made. The pain of the cut is a welcome distraction from the all-encompassing ache in my heart, allowing me to forget it and focus on something else. The feeling of it lets me know I'm still alive, that I can actually still feel anything at all, but all too soon my anguish rears its ugly head and I stumble into it face first, feeling it all the more intensely this time.
I want the release, the feeling of being free from the weight of my emotional burden, but I don't think I can handle how the hurt seemed to double after the fact. I need something stronger, to make the pain stay away for good. Looking back and forth between my cut finger and the blood streaked glass, it's as if the pieces of the puzzle all come together and I can see the solution clearly.
I know I should be worried about my children, my boys who will be waiting for me to pick them up from school and my daughter who is sleeping upstairs. But the idea that I can make the pain stop seems to override every other thought in my head. I place the piece of glass to my wrist, placing some pressure and allowing it to puncture my skin. The feeling of being free of the worry and pain hits me like a train, letting me know this is right, this is my solution.
I press the glass deeper, feeling it slice further into my wrist, before yanking it across. The initial pain surprises me, causing me to cry out, the piece of glass falling to the floor, me following shortly after. I start to feel everything become hazy as I hear the front door slam shut.
"Isabella? Are you home? I need you to pull my blue Armani suit out for me for my dinner meeting tonight. I just came home to change." Edward calls out. I vaguely hear his footsteps as I watch the blood flow out of my arm and pool on the floor around me.
"BELLA! What the fuck did you do?" Edward screams as he places a dish towel and a firm grip on my wrist. As I drift away, I finally feel the relief, the peace in the knowledge that I won't hurt anymore.
A/N: So…I'm just gonna go crawl into a corner with a bottle of tequila and some chocolate and hide for now. I hope you all are still with me here; there is still a lot of story left to tell. I would however just like to say, that I do NOT condone or support the choice Isabella made in this chapter. The truth of the matter is, Isabella is a woman in desperate need of love, affection, and professional help, so please remember that what I am writing is a fictional story about a woman trapped in a seemingly dead marriage who has lost her hope that things can get better...and that I've promised you all an HEA.