Hi again. Being sick really is a pain, isn't it. Anyways, here is chapter 5, hope you enjoy, and please review.

I don't own Twilight or it's characters, they all belong to Stephenie Meyer.

Edward POV

They still hadn't let me out of the hospital or my restraints, though they said I would be released and free to go back to the house tomorrow. I had been awake for four days, and had been constantly watched ever since. It was maddening, never having a second without someone scrutinising you every move. I just hope that they will observe me less once we get back.

I hadn't cut in over a week. The four big cuts had been just enough to tide me over for the first day, but no longer than that. I was going crazy. I needed to cut. I didn't care what happened when we got home, the first second I was out of view of everyone I was going to cut. I couldn't even scratch at myself to get some relief, with my arms strapped down as they were.

I could feel every cell of blood flowing through my veins. It was disgusting. It felt like someone had replaced all my blood with acid, which I needed to get out of my body through a cut. It boiled and scratched, flowing just beneath my skin, practically begging to be let out, but I physically could not get rid of it.

I felt so bloated as well. They had made sure that I had eaten three full meals every day, and there was nothing I could do to avoid it. I felt so full but they just kept stuffing me with more and more food.

My body felt horrible. I had had no way of finding release in the past few days, I had been force-fed until I was ready to throw up, and I had no privacy whatsoever. It was my personal version of hell.

Carlisle and Esme were mad at me. There was no other way to describe their faces when they looked at me. Angry and disappointed. I knew that once we got back I would be in for a long talking to, and there would be no escaping it. Oh well, I could deal with it as long as they didn't tie me to the wall or something. I knew they would try to get me to talk to someone, not that it would do me any good; there was no hope for me. I was a lost cause, why couldn't they just see that and let me die?

It wasn't fair! I had heard many stories of people being sent off to foster homes where their carers couldn't care less about them. Why couldn't I have been sent to one of those homes, chosen by one f those people, then I would easily be able to kill myself because they wouldn't care about me.

I read a good poem once, my favourite one. I think it explains my situation perfectly:

Is there hope?

Or is there none at all?

For most there is hope

But my time for that

Has passed long ago

Never to return again

I was right, the second we got back Carlisle dragged me off to his office, not giving me any choice in the matter or asking if there was anything I wanted to do before talking to him. I wondered if he would jump straight to the point, or try to hint at the topic, to see if I would make the first move. No matter what he did, I promised myself that I wouldn't tell him anything. My action plan was silence, I would not answer any of his questions with a vocal response, and if I could help it, I wouldn't give him any answers with my body language either.

He must have decided to not beat around the bush, just jump straight in. He started with what he probably thought was the easiest question to answer, but really it wasn't.

"Why did you do it?"

I carefully tried to keep my expression blank, so it didn't reveal anything, and stared at the wall behind his head. I had read somewhere that it unnerves people if you look at their ear, so I decided to focus on that instead. Carlisle just ignored it... for now.

When he saw that he wasn't going to get a response from me he continued.

"Will you tell me anything?"

He must be stupid if he thought I was. Silence remained my answer. He gave up with the questions, good thing too; all they were doing was wasting my time, and making me wait longer before I could cut again.

He sighed in resignation before speaking again.

"Well, as you're not going to answer any of my questions, I will just lay down some new rules for you. You must let someone know where you are at all times. No more skipping school. You must always have the door to whatever room you are in open. Your phone always needs to be on, and you are not to ignore any of our calls. You will see a psychiatrist twice a week, you will not miss any of the sessions and you will talk to them. You will give Esme and I all your blades and you will not get any more. To make sure you can't get any more your credit cards will be confiscated, as well as any cash you have on you, and your allowance will be stopped.

You will not self-harm any more, and to check this I will examine your body for any new signs of harm three times a week. Do you understand?"

I didn't reply, and tried to keep my face remaining blank, but it was hard. Inside I was seething, how could they do this to me! I decided there and then that I would not obey any of those rules if I could help it.

I left the room without saying anything, and quickly walked into my room, stubbornly and obviously closing the door behind me. I turned off my phone, and left it lying prominently on my desk. I grabbed one of my blades out of its hiding spot, concealing it in one of my pockets. I opened my window and carelessly climbed out of it, not caring if I got hurt, only that I was quiet so they didn't know that I had escaped.

I was directly violating their rules, but I couldn't care less. Why not show them that I could and would easily break all of their new rules?