A/N: Thanks again to all of you sticking with me and reading along. I love hearing what you're thinking as this story unfolds.

I should warn you that this is probably a "2 chocolate doughnut" chapter. as in...after you read it, you might need 2 doughnuts to feel better. You doughnut eaters know who you are ;)

Big thanks & love to my own personal dream team: Char, Gin, Caren & Ash - they help make my words purdy and my ideas not suck so bad.

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, I just come up with random things for them to do.

Edward

After the music room finally empties, I'm left alone with Dr. Volturi.

"Thank you...?" I venture, wondering what I'm thanking him for exactly. I know this was supposed to be a session of some sort, but I'm still unclear as to why.

"Anytime, Edward. Anytime," he says with a hint of a smile. "You're doing well. We'll continue along tomorrow. I knew music would have an impact, although I'm still curious as to what the final result will be..."

He looks down at some notes and shakes his head, immediately absorbed in thought. I hardly have a chance to say goodbye as he walks away, eyes glued to his papers. My stomach rumbles just then, and I walk out, hoping to find some food. Coming across the same dining room as before, I make my way to the spread of food and help myself to a few slices of roast beef, a scoopful of potatoes and some salad.

When I turn around to find a table, I notice that unlike lunch, where most people were sitting by themselves, the majority of people this evening are eating with a companion or two. As I look more closely, I notice that some of the people are wearing identifying badges with the word "visitor" printed on them.

I finally find an empty table and slide in, slowly starting on my dinner as I take in the other tables around me. A young girl sits at a table while an elderly looking woman hovers over her, cutting up the roast beef on the girl's plate. A man sits across from the girl, making quiet conversation, but the girl just stares off into the distance, clearly not paying attention. Her eyes are milky white and not focused on anything in particular.

The next table over hosts a couple who are talking quietly with their heads bent towards each other. From where I'm sitting, I'm unable to see which of them is the visitor and which one is not. It feels strange to be staring so blatantly at them, so I focus on my food for a bit, but the next time I glance over, the girl is silently crying as the man looks on helplessly. I stare until it makes me uncomfortable, but the sight of this girl crying hurts my heart for some reason.

My gaze moves from table to table, and slowly I start to notice that I'm the only one eating alone. One table almost looks like they're having a party. Everyone is laughing and smiling, sharing stories and warm looks with each other. A gnawing, almost painful feeling in the pit of my stomach hits me as I realize that every single person in here has a visitor except for me.

I'm all alone.

I look over towards the door, wondering if perhaps somebody is coming for me and he or she is just late. The only person walking in is a janitor, called to clean up some spilled juice. He sees me staring and gives me a look, swimming in pity. My eyes move hastily, retreating to look at my plate instead. I shuffle around the potatoes and take one more bite of roast beef, grimacing as it goes down since I've let it turn cold.

A swell of anxiety starts to build within me as I try to figure out just what the hell is going on. Why am I so clearly alone, while everyone else is enjoying the company of somebody else? I wonder if I've done something wrong, and suddenly it feels like everyone's eyes are on me...silently staring and judging. When I raise my head to look, nobody seems to be staring, rather, they're all engaged in their own conversations.

I sigh, feeling defeated, and try to force down the remainder of my dinner. After I'm unable to choke down anymore, I stand up and bring my plate over to the brown, plastic tub stationed atop the trashcan. Methodically, like I've done this hundreds of times before, I scrape whatever is left on my plate into the trash and then place it into the tub. I take one last sip of my water before my glass joins the plate.

I spare a glance at the dessert table, and debate taking a wrapped cookie back with me, but I have a feeling that it would only pale in comparison to the scone I ate earlier. Something inside me refuses to tarnish that memory with a second rate pastry.

When I turn from the dessert table to leave, I notice somebody on the outside of the room, staring in through the glazed glass window. The person notices me staring and slowly raises a timid hand to wave at me. Instinctively, I wave back.

It's slightly blurry due to the tint of the window, but I'd recognize that profile anywhere. I let out a sigh, and the air rushes out of my body in one big breath.

Bella.