Hi party people! I've been writing non-stop all night to finish this chapter for you. It's the longest so far and this chapter has a lot in it. I also want to say the reviews have been ok but they could be better. And just to clear up confusion; if I say that someone is speaking to Bella what I mean is that Bella is reading their lips but not actually hearing their voice. And one final thing, I was in search of a Beta-Reader so if anyone is interested please message me.

The blackness wasn't peaceful nor was it restful. I am extremely exhausted and confused. I don't remember coming to the hospital. Wasn't I just here? I have this strong sense of Déjà vu but I can't place it. My whole body aches from fatigue and stiffness. I'm nestled so tightly in a cocoon of scratchy blankets that I might pass out of lack of oxygen if I don't escape its confines. My head is throbbing so intensely I can practically feel my brain ramming its self against my skull. It takes all the strength I can muster to escape my blanket prison.

I try to relieve some of my achiness in my muscles by stretching but I'm restricted by an IV that's implanted into my arm.

God I hate needles.

You would think that after all this time in hospitals that I would have gotten over my phobia of needles however that is not the case. I don't think you can ever grow to like a needle, that's why, thank God, I'm not a diabetic.

I immediately try to pull out the impenetrable sticker but I'm stopped when I realize my right wrist is secured to the bed rails and it isn't coming loose no matter how hard I struggle.

Am I restrained to the bed?

Panicking, I prop myself up on my elbow and look down to find my suspicions confirmed; my right wrist is bound to the bed rail by a rough, bloodstained rag. I start trying to pull my way free but alas the rag won't budge. Much to my horror my arms are riddled with gashes. Some are stitched closed while the smaller hesitation wounds have already started to scab over. People will think I was attacked when in fact I purposely caused myself harm. I never thought of the long term effects of cutting; I will always have the scars.

Now I understand why they only bound me in a rag; I'm not strong enough to break free of a little rag, so extreme measures like handcuffs or actual people holding me down wouldn't be necessary. I'm already exhausted from that minimal amount of physical activity.

Why am I tied to begin with?

I don't remember putting up a fight, but I really don't remember much to begin with so I haven't the faintest idea.

But there's not just the IV there's a heart monitor, oxygen tube stuck up my nose and a load of other wires and tubes connecting me to an army of machines. I wanted so much to rip out the foreign objects manifesting in my limbs but I couldn't for two reasons: 1. my arms are still restricted to the bed and 2. Even if I did have access to my arms the doctors would know I'm resisting and probably keep me longer in this god forsaken place. And strangely enough there's a strip of gauze encompassing the entire top of my chest, from the top of my breasts to the bottom of my ribs.

I wonder where Charlie is; he's probably angry and doesn't even want to look at his disappointment of a daughter. Is he even here? My father, who has always loved me, even if he had a hard time showing it had to watch his only daughter almost bleed to death on the bathroom floor. I wouldn't be insulted if he never wanted to speak to me again. What I did was stupid and inexcusable and the fact that Charlie had to witness it was even more careless on my part.

I glance around the hospital room to find nothing but a worn faux leather couch positioned underneath the window and a tiny white bathroom to the left side of the room. My old hospital room at least had personality; this was guarded, almost as if color, even faded, would be dangerous to my health. I'm stuck here and bored out of mind with nothing to do but stare at the wall or the brick wall I can see from a neighboring building out the window. Brick wall or white wall, I can hardly contain my excitement.

I pick the white wall and spend my time becoming familiar with every crack and chip of paint the wall harbors. Eventually in the corner of my eye I see the door gingerly open and a plump brunette woman shimmies her way into the room. She scans the room before her dull and tired eyes meet mine. Surprise refuges on her highly feminine features as she walks across the room to an intercom I never noticed before and she purposely turns her back to me so I can't make out what she's saying. She starts approaching the side of my bed when she finishes her secretive conversation. She starts to check the machines and my vitals but makes no move to untie me.

Ugh this is so frustrating.

Can't she see me struggling?

She gives me a remorseful glance as she exits with the same carefulness as she came.

The doctor walked in a few minutes later, more confidently than the nurse and reached for my clipboard at the foot of the bed. He scanned it rather quickly before he returned it back to its resting place and gave me his full attention.

I nudged my head in the direction of my wrists in an effort to get him to release my limbs from their uncomfortable confines. Realization dawns on him and he quickly unties me. I rub my wrists in an effort to lessen the ache and roll my wrists a few times until I'm satisfied that their as painless as possible.

I stare into my doctor's eyes to portray the gratitude I feel, he seems to understand because he says, "I was only doing my job. You know you gave us quite a scare there Isabella, you lost a lot of blood. You were lucky your father found when you did or you wouldn't have made it. Can I ask what you were trying to accomplish yesterday?

I look at him with my eyebrows raised, silently saying, "Stupid question to ask a deaf and mute girl.''

I didn't know what was going on through my head. I was a jumbled mess of anger, devastation and longing. The whole in my chest ripped open and was suffocating me. I couldn't breathe and I could barely tell my feet to take me upstairs to the bathroom to cut in solitude.

He chuckles to himself, "My apologies what an ignorant question to ask. Well let me introduce myself, I'm Dr. Ramierez and I will be your doctor for your remaining recovery period here. I'm sorry you had to be tethered like that it's just percautionary for suicide patients such as yourself. It's just for the saftey of our staff as yourself.

That doesn't make any sense. I wasn't trying to kill myself. I just wanted some peace.

"You have done extensive damage to your forearms and luckily you just barely missed some of the major arteries located there. You wounds will take a while to heal, taking into consideration the depth of your injuries."

He pauses for a moment before he begins again, "I don't think you're aware of this but Isabella you suffered an acute heart attack; the cause was from copious bleeding exiting your body. We had to do some mild surgery but your heart should make a complete recovery with proper rest and prescribed medication. This isn't to be taken lightly, a girl of your age and weight should not be suffering from such medical problems."

He finishes his diagnosis and starts to make his way out of the room when he grasps the door handle, he turns to me with his final departing words " I'm going to leave you to your thoughts now, I'm sure you could use a little time to yourself to process all this new information. Remember that your restraints can easily be put back on if the need arises, please don't break my trust like that. Oh and your father is downstairs in the waiting room; I'll send him up soon; he's been very worried about you."

And with that he left.

And I cried.

I screamed.

I was completely delirious with hurt.

I can't even fathom the fact that I, an 18 year old girl, had a heart attack.

Why does everything go wrong?

Maybe the universe is punishing me by evading death so many times. How much easier would it be if I just accepted fate and was killed by Tyler's van.

I cried out all of my tears and was wavering on the point of passing out but I had to be awake for when Charlie comes to visit. That's the least I can do for him.

My back is to the door but I can feel his presence. I open my eyes to the familiar face of my father. He looks tired and as if he could collapse; I'm sure my face isn't that far off. He gets down on his knees so he's eye level with me , grabs my tiny hands in his and says, "I'm so disappointed in you, and how could you do this Bella; to me, your mother, yourself." "I'm such a failure to you. I should have seen the signs. I love you Bella. You're my world and I hate what you've become. But mark my words you are going to get better if that's the last thing I do; I'm not burying my baby."

His words were spoken with true love, devotion, and conviction. I knew he was crying. I wasn't worth his tears so I refused to look at him. I might sound like a huge Bitch but I didn't want to see my father like that and especially because I initiated it.

Those words broke me. I can take him fuming, sad, or panicking, but disappointed was the hardest to deal with. That was an emotion I didn't think I would ever have to see in Charlie's eyes. Was he disappointed in the cutting, the fact that I felt I had to do it or just because I didn't talk to him about it? I don't have the courage yet to face my father let alone ask him which of his only daughter's selfish acts let him down the most.

They had to keep me in the hospital for a week. I pleaded with them to let me go home, but they said it was mandatory for me to stay; translation: we need to make sure you don't go home and succeed in killing yourself.

How sweet of them.

They even put me on suicide watch; I wasn't trying to kill myself I just wanted to sleep, but I'm sure every suicidal person says that so of course they wouldn't believe me. Nurses were in and out of my room regularly. They claimed they were just checking the IV but I knew they just wanted to be certain I wasn't trying to strangle myself with the bed sheets. I even had to be with the door open like an untrustworthy child.

Charlie visited me every day but we didn't speak; there was nothing to say. Even if I could form a coherent thought, it would be useless because nothing I say could make up for my atrocious behavior.

By day 5 in the hospital I was about ready to lose it. I think the bleach fumes infiltrated into my brain and are making me have delusions because I swear I saw someone staring in at me through my window but that could just be the pain medication talking.

Every day after lunch they would send in a counselor to "help me come to terms with my issues". And every day I wouldn't even acknowledge her, you might think I'm being a bit childish but I have never believed in therapy. I think venting your problems to a trained stranger whose one job in life I to find out what's wrong with your brain isn't very comforting. My therapist said that we can talk when I'm ready which will be never so I hope she isn't holding her breath.

I'm finally released after I served all of my required 7 days and I f I had the energy I would be jumping up and down with joy. I haven't showered in days and my homework has been piling up. I'm itching to get home to get back into my routine again and put this behind me.

Surprisingly at home everything is in order and clean. I didn't think Charlie was capable of such sanitation. When I first arrived here to live with him you could totally tell a single man lived here. It had this odor about it that wasn't unpleasant but wasn't really welcome in my nostrils, I did my best to get rid of it but it infested itself into the furniture so I stopped trying to evict the hearty scent.

Charlie dropped me off at home and zipped to the local Pharmacy to pick up my many prescriptions. I haven't been fully alone in a week and this feels almost too good to be true. I'm actually surprised Charlie left me alone for any period of time. He has more faith in me than I deserve.

I have to crawl to even get up the stairs to take a well awaited shower. I can see into the bathroom and I just stop. The bathroom looks so shiny I'm almost hesitant to contaminate it with my filth. Charlie must have cleaned up my blood spillage. I can't help but wonder what he did with the knife I used in my self- mutilation.

I spend an eternity in the shower until I'm satisfied that the hospital is washed off my skin. Charlie tucked me in. I didn't fight him on it either it felt good to bask in in the parental love he was emanating. He gave me my meds and I slept undisturbed all night.

I didn't beg and plead to Charlie to let me get back into his cruiser and take me home, instead I accepted the inevitable. I had to go here so instead of crying and screaming I walked in the doors with my head held high hanging on to the little dignity I had left. I didn't look back at Charlie because if I did I would burst into tears. School was going to suck. Charlie didn't try to calm me by saying that everything would be alright because he and I both knew odds are it wouldn't.

My "suicide attempt" was the talk of the school. In a small town like this everyone is up to date on everyone else's dirty laundry. Now I wasn't just a freak, I was a suicidal freak; better yet, I was a failed suicidal freak. As soon as I stepped foot in the school I was bombarded with people talking way too fast for me to even read their lips so I just ignored them and shrugged every now and again. All day I got finger pointing and I could practically hear the whispers. I didn't bother to keep up my new appearance; they already knew it was a lie so why stick with it. I wore comfortable baggy, dark clothes; the perfect reflection of my mindset.

They don't even try to hide the fact that their gossiping about me even when I'm 3 feet from them. I might not be able to hear but I'm not stupid enough to not realize you talking behind my back. I hate that if your deaf people assume that you are mentally incapable. For years people have belittled me, they would always ask Renee and Charlie questions instead of asking me directly. The disability is in my ears not in my brain.

The rumors were almost humorous; I couldn't stifle the internal laugh that overcame me. Some said I jumped off of a cliff, others said I shot myself with one of Charlie's riffles. I have no interest in talking to anyone about the cutting; they just wouldn't understand. I just wanted complete silence in my head and I ignored it until I almost killed myself achieving it. I don't think I'll be cutting again. I lost control just like I feared and almost lost the few meaningful things I have left. I can't hurt myself again; I have to think of Charlie and Renee. I've already caused Charlie enough grief and stress for a life time.

All I coulkd think about all day were the words Charlie spoke to me the day I woke up, "I'm so disappointed in you".

Those words were my wake up call. I've been lying and hiding my feelings from everyone and all it caused was heartache. His words cut through me like a knife. I failed one of the only people in the world who truly loves me. He had never said that to me before and he wouldn't do it unless he felt it to be necessary.

School wasn't as bad as a thought it would be but It still sucked. I came home, made a dent in my enormous amount of make-up work, cooked dinner for charlie, showered and went to bed. I've been waiting for bed all day. The new medication the doctor put me on has made sleeping so much more enjoyable.

I walk into school the next morning as normal but I sense... distress?

Staring to me is normal but, this is ridiculous. It's like there waiting for me to break. I decided to just shrug it off, it's probably nothing. I go to class as normal and all day people keep staring. Ok this isn't just coincidence something happened, something bad. In their eyes there's shock, pity, sadness even a few people show anger. As soon as I look them in the eye they turn away.

After fourth period I walk into lunch and sit at my usual table. I keep my head down and stare at an indent in the table as if it had all the answers. Angela taps my shoulder, I flinch by surprise. Ever since the rape sudden contact scares me. Angela knows how I stray from as much contact as possible; she hasn't asked me questions or pry, she respects my privacy and my feelings.

She signs "Bella I'm so proud of you, your handling this so well."

I sign back, "What are you talking about? Do you know why everyone is staring at me?'' Normally I wouldn't directly communicate but this staring is putting me on the brink of a full meltdown.

She looks at me in utter disbelief "You haven't heard? Bella, Edward is here, in Forks. The rumor is they moved back sometime while you were in the hospital."

I froze. He's back. No, there is no way he's here. This has to be some sick joke. He said he was never coming back, why now? I feel sick. He'll probably be at school tomorrow with the rest of his family and I can't face them. Now I understand the constant staring. Everyone wanted to see how I would handle the news. Everyone at school knows that Edward broke up with me and that night was when I lost my hearing. I think they hold him responsible. I mean it wasn't directly Edward's fault. Sure he left me in the woods but he didn't have James rape and torture me.

My thoughts are going so fast I ponder if I could get whiplash. I can't handle this; I have to get out of here before I have a panic attack.

As if Angela could sense my internal monologue, she takes my hand and escorts me to her car. Charlie brought me to school; trying to reason with him that I'm more than capable of driving my car is pointless, I got my stubbornness from him after all. The whole way to the parking lot I folded in on myself. I couldn't do anything, I didn't care about anything; I didn't care that people were pointing at me or that Angela had to literally drag me down the crowded halls filled with kids who wanted a good look, so they could brag later about how they witnessed my demise firsthand.

My body is on lock-down. I'm vaguely aware of exiting school and getting in Angela's used compact Toyota. I don't recall the ride home; I was too wrapped up in my thoughts. I was so…..? I don't even know. I'm angry, sad, depressed, betrayed, confused and part me wants to be happy all at the same time. I just need some time and the confines of my bedroom.

Can't Angela go any faster?

So there you have it. Remember to review and I'll see you again next week.