yay! another chapter finally. sorry it's been so long guys. but please read, enjoy, and review. xD review even if you don't enjoy.

from Miss Bella's pov.

"There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues.

They are messengers of overwhelming grief…and unspeakable love."

-Washington Irving—

It's Not Easy

Someone is crying. Their body shakes against me, soft whimpers issuing close by. Why is this person crying? They should not be sad. I am awake now, and they can return to the painless world of sleep.

There is a heaviness pressing into me, like a lead blanket. No, just a regular blanket. Why do I feel so heavy then? My body is made of lead; I cannot move. Why can't I? Am I really awake, or merely dreaming?

Beeping. What's beeping? A machine? It seems to be following a specific pattern. Beep, beep, beep. Is that my heartbeat? Why does it sound so slow? Does it need to wake up too?

The person continues to cry, shaking the bed I lay on. Why do they cry? It sends a pang through my heart to hear such painful sobs. If nothing else, I have to soothe them.

"Bella…" a voice moans, an agonized voice, muffled somehow.

My heart seizes at the pain in their voice. The machine responds, beeping loudly. I have to help them.

I search deep inside of me for some remainder of strength, some thread of energy hidden away in my lead body. With great difficulty, I blink open my eyes.

The world swirls before me; bright, luminous, lights and colors spinning. It's blinding. My eyes blink, and the lights above where I lay come into focus. Another blink and the ceiling solidifies. One half of the room is still hazy; the left side. Why is that?

I close my eyes, open them again; still hazy. Maybe my eye's partially asleep still.

I focus on the person crying. By rolling my eyes down, I can make out the top of their head; disheveled bronze hair, shaking. Hands clench fistfuls of my blanket; whimpers come from deep inside this person.

They moan my name again, and I recognize the voice. Of course.

His pain rips through me; bringing tears to my own eyes. I fight to move, to make some sort of noise. My body is numb, my mouth feels flimsy like tissue paper. What's wrong with me? Even my breathing seems labored. Why can't I move? Why can't I shift my hand to cup his cheek, square my shoulders and take on his pain as my own? Why is everything so confusing?

The tears gather behind my burning eyes, but won't spill over. They just hang there, stuck in the balance, worse than no tears at all. I fight desperately to move, to shift myself, to draw his attention to me, but I am chained to the bed by my own body's heaviness. Somehow, though, I manage to tilt my head to the side, where it dangles, as if by a wire, lolling against my shoulder, a dead weight.

That's when the pain hits me. Jabs of pain that shoot up my spine, the muscles and nerves screaming all the way from the nape of my neck to my tail bone. Again I open my mouth to yell, to whisper, to make any noise. Again: nothing. And that's when I really start to panic. Am I to remain trapped here? Hidden away inside my body?

In the background, something is beeping. An alarm? No, it's my heart monitor. If I squint I can just make it out at the end of the bed, the line that is my heart beat going erratic. I breathe heavily, making it beep louder, faster. This is the only noise I can make, aided by a machine, but it is enough. He lifts his head.

If I wanted to do anything before, it is now nonexistent. Seeing him like this, a slight flush to his marble cheeks, hair tousled, eyes haunted. It is the worst sort of hell, worse than the one that claims my body. All I want is to speak, to tell him that I'm all right, but I can't. Am I to be deprived of that right too?

His eyes fix on mine, open finally, and I power all my energy there, to my eyes, to convey what I can't with words. I'm all right! Hope seems to flood his eyes, and his shoulders relax just a fraction, but it is enough. Tears flood my eyes again, and I know he can see them, welling up against my pupils, still not falling. Kiss me, I want to say, please, I need you to hold me, I need you to say something, anything, please.

He doesn't move though, doesn't touch me. Just stares at me for the longest time, long enough for my heart beat to calm back down. Then, slowly, he reaches out his hand as if to cup my face, just as I want him to, but he pulls back at the last second, wincing. The pain covers his face again. Say something! I scream silently. His still upraised hand moves toward me again, then past, to touch the call button on the wall.

A nurse bustles in so quickly that I wonder if she was standing outside the door, just waiting. She's tall and slim, with light brown hair that falls down in a cascading ponytail at the nape of her neck. She's pretty, maybe even beautiful. Her eyes are tired though, with bags underneath them. It must be night time.

"Oh," she says, smiling down at me past Edward. "Look who's finally awake. How are you feeling, Bella?"

My shocked eyes move to Edward, and his face softens ever so slightly. Of course, of course he would tell her my name, what I like to be called. I turn my eyes back to the nurse, but she's already moved on, busying herself with checking the machines dotting the room. She slips in and out of focus as she passes to my left side, only her brilliant white clothing making her vaguely visible.

"Well, all of your vitals seem…normal." She pauses to check her clipboard, moving automatically to my right side, so that I can see her. "Considering what happened - your ordeal - I'd say you're doing fine." Again she flashes me a smile. "I'm afraid there's not much more I can do for you right now. I wish there was. Oh-" she leans forward and resettles my head straight on the pillow, releasing the ache in my neck but sending a single sharp stab up my spine at the motion. I wince, and Edward's eyes zero in on me, tightening. "There," she adds, "that's more comfortable, isn't it?"

Yes, I want to snap, It's more comfortable, but now I can't see.

"My name's Sarah, by the way. Call me if you need me, and I'll be right in." And she bustles out, probably to go ask another patient some rhetorical questions.

As soon as the door clicks shut, Edward is leaning over me, his eyes frantic. His hands waver over me but don't connect, as if there is some force field there, blocking him. "Bella," he whispers, "What is it? What hurts? What can I do?"

He says my name, and finally, finally the tears fall. Just three. "Edward," I whisper back, but all that comes out is mush. A jumbled mix of syllables and letters, sloshed together and then thrown out in the air. Undistinguishable. But he can understand me.

"Yes, I'm here."

"Edward," I try again, to speak normally, and fail. "What-what happened? What's wrong with me?"

I see the pain tighten in his eyes, or maybe his eyes tighten against the pain. He stares at me for a long moment, then sighs, and perches on the side of my bed, careful not to jostle me; too careful.

"Bella," he whispers, "don't you remember the crash? You were on a-a motorcycle with Jacob. He said you were going too fast…and you were thrown over the bars."

Yes, that's right. I was thrown over the bars…I remember hitting the road.

He continues without looking at me. "The bike landed on top of you, but Jacob couldn't get it off you. It took five paramedics to finally lift it…and they brought you here. They had to put you to sleep for a while. The drugs are starting to wear off."

It comes back in vague little pictures in my head, short flashes of clarity. A bike, flying over the handlebars, Jake's screaming for me to just hold on a bit longer, the heat of the exhaust against my exposed legs, the feeling of my face pressed against the asphalt, my own scream as they peeled the bike off of me, poured water over my marred body, scrubbed at my skin with nail-brushes. Yes, I remember.

"What's wrong with me?" I whisper, my voice catching.

"Bella," Edward leans toward me, his eyes pleading. "listen to me, okay? Not everything's for sure, there are still some things-"

"WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME?"

"Bella," his eyes turn worried, his hands hovering inches from my body. "You need to calm down, okay? Calm down, sweetheart-"

"What's happened? What's wrong with me?" I pause to swallow, "Edward?"

He sighs, reaching for me, then freezing with his fingers just a fraction from my face. I close my eyes, waiting for his reassuring touch, but it doesn't come. "Bella," his voice is soft, trying to be soothing. "Just let me explain-"

"Why won't you touch me?" I slowly open my eyes, and his face is right there. "Edward…WHY WON'T YOU TOUCH ME?"

He winces, closes his eyes, runs a hand through his disheveled hair. "I'm not sure-it might upset-your recovery-maybe I should-"

"Edward," my eyes are pleading. "Please. Just tell me. I deserve to know."

He sighs, a huge gust of air, as if he's been holding his breathe for hours, and opens his eyes. "I know. So…I'm going to tell you…now…" To my surprise, he stands, moving away from me, circling around the bed to my left side; my bad side.

"Edward-what?"

"Bella," he whispers, "What can you see? Can you see me?"

I try, I really try to focus my eye, but it just won't. "It's all blurry on that side."

"When you flew off the bike, you landed on the left side of your face. Your momentum carried you nearly 30 feet down the road and the asphalt…damaged your face." I hear the clicking of his shoes on the ground as he moves back around the bed, where he comes into view. "There's some chunks missing from your face - nose, cheek, a bit of your ear, some of your lip and jaw."

Unconsciously, my now awake hand moves to touch my face, to feel the gauze and bandage wrapped precariously across the left half. "Chunks…missing?" The area beneath feels bumpy and uneven.

"There's more." Edward perches next to me again, reaching out and taking my hand gingerly, replacing it back at my side. "You suffered some really bad road rashes and burns."

It is then that I notice that my hands too, and arms and one shoulder, are covered with gauze too, wrapped up like mummies.

"They gave you skin grafts…but it's going to be a while before it's…fully healed. You've got a big burn across your chest and hip, and some very bad ones on your legs."

I can feel it then, the tingling across my middle, up my side, across my arms and shoulders. Burns. I've got someone else's skin growing on me, healing me. What really worries me though, is that I can't feel my legs. The rest of my body I can feel; the aches and bruises and burns, but not my legs. I try to sit up, but only manage a couple of inches before I sink back down against the pillows. "I can't-I can't feel my legs…"

Edward's eyes turn sad, very sad, and he takes my hand again, surprising me, even though I can't feel anything through the bandages. "Bella…they think you may have broken part of your spine."

"Broken…my…spine?" The words are too foreign. They can't be true.

"They think you might be paralyzed…they're almost sure…Carlisle checked himself…you're paralyzed from the waist down."

The words rush over me, flow through my hollow ears, attack my fragile, confused brain. "What…?" I blink, glance down, gaze upon the lumps of coal that my legs have become. I gaze at them, glare at them, stare, will them to move. But there is nothing. No feeling.

Something breaks inside of me.

The tears I willed to come now swamp me. I try to force them back, but they pour down unbidden. I can hear Edward in the back of my mind trying to calm me, but I am beyond placating.

"Shut up!" I scream at him. "How do you expect me to be calm? I can't MOVE MY LEGS!"

I flail my arms, push myself up on my elbows, attempt to get up, but my numb, stupid, useless legs won't allow me to.

Edward leans over me, eyes beyond sadness. He grabs my chin and won't release me, forcing my to lock gazes with him. Staring into his warm amber eyes, I feel my body slowly relax and slump back onto the bed. I can feel the pain now. All the pins and needles of pain where I've reopened burns and torn my new skin. The tears flow again, slower and softer now, but even more painful.

"Edward…" I whimper through my deadened lips.

"Shh…" he whispers.

"Edward…" I try again. "I so…so sorry."

"I know," he whispers. "Now, shush. Relax."

"Okay…" I whisper.

The door creaks open and Sarah the nurse bustles back in. "You rang?" she says, glancing between us.

Edward turns away from me for a split second to answer. "Yes, I think Bella could do with some more sedatives." He turns back to me as Nurse Sarah nods and readies a syringe. "I'm sorry," he whispers to me.

I just look into his eyes, those warm amber eyes, and nod my head. In truth I'd rather be asleep, where I can dream about running, or speaking normally, or being able to see in both directions. I close my eyes and wait for the sedative to take affect.

Sometimes sleep is easier.

sorry about the length, I'm still getting back into the rhythm. hopefully hear from you guys again soon, when you review this chapter. ;)

another chap up soon? at least for one of my stories. xD