A/N: Standard Disclaimer that Twilight does not belong to me. Nothing belongs to me, not even my tears. Even they leave quickly down my face...

Thanks so much for all the support from all you. So many followers, I don't deserve it because I am not holding up my end of the bargain by updating, but know that I am trying everyday. These characters are part of me in some way. I don't deserve your support, but I appreciate it all the same. And if you have not read or know about the book, Innocents (Dusty #1) by Mary Elizabeth. It is out now. Amazing story. One of my top 3 fanfics in the Twiworld. I read it in record time and it is edited and different. Amazing good with the sequel coming out in October (?).

as always, blackswan

As your love starts to surround you

All of their words are trying to drown you

And you break, it's too late For you to fall apart

And the blame that you claim Is all your own fault

But you've been crying out for forever

Forever's come and gone

You keep begging for forgiveness

But you don't think you've done wrong

You've been crying out for forever

Forever's come and gone

My bleeding hands and shaking head

-Bear's Den

My eyes adjust to the dim light that has been kept on beside me. I'm horizontal and grateful, knowing I am in a bedroom. Too afraid of the pressure between my ears to over think, the vice-like grip on my brain takes over...turning the mental lever until it becomes too much. I use my other senses to tell me what I need to know not wanting to overuse my bruised grey matter. Feeling a soft, warm blanket over me I know I'm lying in a bed somewhere. The mattress is beyond anything I've ever experienced before. The bed is still made and I'm on top of it all with a throw, maybe cashmere or a rich material like that. With each breath I take I smell familiarity. Not something I can immediately place, but it's enough to keep me burrowed down and subconsciously safe. Otherwise, it smells like a well-kept home. Someone has cleaned recently, sprayed Febreze throughout the house or lit lavender-scented candles.

I hear the ticking of a clock close by and I wonder if it's on a wall or on a table. I think about the time. I wonder if I care. I know I don't. I turn my head carefully so to not make any noise. In the distance I hear a voice, melodic, pained. Familiar instrument strums softly, quietly. My heart bleeds and breaks and remembers.

My eyes open. I know where I am. Before my brain can protest my body takes over. I am through the door without looking at my surroundings and going down a hallway trying to find him. "Edward?" I repeat. My voice is scratchy, tired, but with effort I finally get it loud enough. "You're awake," his words are quiet when I finally find him in the living room. He is sitting on the floor with a guitar. A memory flows through my mind. One with him and that same guitar years ago strumming chords. Mindless melodies played on days when we hung out in his dorm. Edward is still dressed in his dress pants and shirt, but his hair is a mess and the guitar is in his lap. He looks like hell and I can't decide if he's drunk, sleep deprived or both. I nod in response unable to form words because that's what I do around him. Close up. In between unable and unwilling to talk.

He places the guitar to the side and stands up. He appears so tall and mature. I can't tell if it's because I'm groggy or possibly afraid of what may happen but his good looks are making me uncomfortable.

Being sensible I put myself on high alert to his possible charms and decide to walk straight up to him and demand the answers I need. His face is unreadable as he offers me a seat on a comfortable, large sectional couch that is in the center of the room.

"You still play?" The words slip from my mouth. Internally I scoff at myself for being a such a pussy.

"I do." He replies looking embarrassed, "Usually when I'm alone. I thought you would have slept longer. Are you ok?"

That question. Are you ok? I hate that question because it is so loaded. Honestly I am not ok for so many reasons yet here I am breathing and alive with people who love me, for some that is enough. Can I tell him that? Can I scream at him? Tell me that I hate him for what he did to me? That seeing that band on his finger is like a big fuck you. Instead I laugh nervously and relax into the plush cushions.

"I'm fine and sorry I blacked out on you. I...I...

"Don't have to explain anything to me now. Just relax. Do you want something to drink?" He asks. His eyes focused on me looking for something I am not going to give him.

"I'm fine. I do want something though." I ask hoping he be comfortable to give me this one thing.

"Yeah. Anything you need?" He is in front of me, ready to give me something. Unaware that I am not going to ask for a simple refreshment.

"Play our song. Like you use to when it was just us. So I know it wasn't just a dream."