Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or anything familiar. Look for a more detailed disclaimer at the bottom.

Rated: T.

Author: The Nervous Rambler.

Summary: AU. AH. A/B E/J Em/R. 'Why won't you let me help you, Bella?' 'Because you can't help me unless you believe me!'

The ticking of a clock somewhere off in the room behind me was in rhythm with each beat of my heart. Or pretty damn close, at least. As far as I could tell. I could be wrong though; it wasn't like I could hear my own heartbeat, I could just feel it. But it felt pretty in sync with the clock.

Sighing at the ridiculous thoughts that started piling up in my head about clocks and heart beats, I sunk lower in my chair, bouncing my knee up and down in intervals of three. A nervous habit I had picked up over the years, though I wasn't nervous about anything. I was more… anxious, really. Anxious and kind of pissed, actually. With another, annoyed, sigh, I sat up straighter and started chewing on my thumb nail.

Carlisle's golden eyes, that reminded me of Alice way too much for comfort right then, regarded me curiously, like one would observe an experiment; curious to the outcome. And that just pissed me off more; I didn't like people looking at me like I was something to study. I hated it. Sensing this –or maybe my glare tipped him off-, Carlisle looked away to his notebook and started jotting notes down. Some of his blonde hair fell in his eyes, his hand absently reaching up and running through the blonde locks and get them back out of his face. His skin was also pale like Alice's, just like Alice's.

How could two people be so similar and not related? It didn't add up.

"So, Bella, how are you feeling?" Carlisle asked in his smooth, calm voice, shattering the silence. Almost silence, really, since the lock was still ticking in the background.

Also, us breathing was bound to make a noise, no matter how quiet. What was that saying again? If a tree falls in the forest but no one is around to hear it, does it still make noise? Could that be applied here? Or was it just- "Pissed off, thanks." I grumbled, pulling my beanie down farther on my head, tapping my foot. "Why is your office in the hospital? Isn't there some kind of psychologist and psychiatrist building like place around here?"

"I take it you don't like hospitals, do you?" He asked and I furiously shook my head. "Why is that?"

"I don't know. I mean… I guess because if you add up how long I was in that asylum with the amount of trips and days I had to spend in regular hospitals during my childhood, then I've spent almost half my life in one."

"I can see how that would put a damper on your attitude towards this place, yes." Carlisle murmured, writing more things down. "How long has it been since you've taken alcohol into your system?"

My mind whirled as I thought back. "Lunch time, I think. No, Alice was talking to me during lunch about our portfolio. Third period."

"Have you seen or heard anything yet?" He asked curiously. I shook my head. "What about the pain in your head, have you felt it?"

My brows furrowed. "A slight throbbing. Nothing much yet though. I've still got traces of my buzz. The second those are gone though; everything's going to hit me hard." Carlisle nodded, writing more down. I awkwardly cleared my throat, shifting in my seat. "So, uh, you haven't…uh, maybe told Alice anything. Have you?"

Carlisle shook his head, his smile warm when he looked up. "No. My family and, most of Forks now because you chose to not hide that which I think was a good idea, know that you are diagnosed with Schizophrenia and that you are in my care. Other than that; no one knows anything else. Doctor-patient confidentiality prohibits me from saying anything to anyone, even my family."

I sighed in relief. "Good. Okay, good."

"Why are you worried about other people knowing the specifics, may I ask?"

My shoulders rose and fell. "I don't want her-them to know I'm a whack job who sees and hears things."

"Bella, you're not-" Carlisle began in his gentle reprimanding voice.

"I know, I know. I was kidding." I scowled. "I just want to keep the details quiet, you know? It's personal-"

"Well isn't your glow marvellous."

"Things I don't want…anyone…knowing…" I trailed off, shivering as the whisper made its way to my ear. The throbbing in my head increased to more of a deep pressure, like someone was poking my brain, and I winced.

"Are you alright, Bella?" Carlisle asked, sitting straighter in his seat, looking concerned.

I waved him off. "Fine; just, uh, more of a headache." I replied shakily.

"It's brighter than most of the ones I've seen."

"How long does it usually take before you're in this much pain? How long before the other symptoms surface?" He asked, picking up his pen again with a pondering look.

My hands started to tremble as I looked down at them, quickly clenching them into fists and looking up to Carlisle. "A c-couple hours. This is… I think this is normal though." I replied.

"None of them are as pure though, my dear. How very interesting."

It was definitely a woman's voice. She sounded older, not old old though, and her voice was kind. That didn't change the fact that it was a voice that didn't exist and that I wasn't supposed to be hearing, though. Biting my lip, I glanced around the room, looking for any signs of… I don't even know…

"I can smell liquor on you though. Tsk, tsk. Does your mother know you drink, honey?"

"Yes." I whispered, my eyes still searching.

Carlisle's brows furrowed. "Pardon me?"

"N-n-nothing." I hastily said.

He looked more alert now, glancing around. "Bella, do you see something?"

My whole body was shaking now as I went to deny. "No, I just…I-" My eyes grew twice in size as I saw a pale, nearly translucent hand materializing in the back corner of the room.

"Tell him, dear. Carlisle can help you."

"She knows your name." I whispered fiercely, watching the hand turn into an arm. Carlisle jolted to his feet, standing in my view of the arm, his eyebrows that were once raised in astonishment were now furrowed. "What?" I asked, looking behind me quickly to see if something was there before looking back to him.

He slowly shook his head. "No…I… I thought your eyes… it must have been the light reflecting off of them oddly."

Hell no, it wasn't the light. Something was happening; my headache was getting worse, like someone was banging on drums in my skull, my heart was pounding like there was no tomorrow, and I couldn't keep my hands still. "What's your name, child?"

"No!" I screamed, covering my ears. I was better! I had been doing so good! I hadn't seen or head them in one and a half years all because of the medication and the drinking. "No more sober sessions!" I yelled, jumping out of my chair and whipping the door to Carlisle's office open. He called my name, stepping around his desk to try and stop me, but I was already racing down the hallway like I was running for my life. I could still hear him calling my name as I wrenched the stairwell door open and started taking them two at a time to the ground floor.

But since I had only stayed for half of the session, Charlie wasn't in the cruiser waiting for me out in the parking lot like usual. It didn't matter though, I still sprinted off across the parking lot in the direction of the house; I was more afraid of the - hallucinations? - or whatever they were than of the dark. "What's wrong, sweetie?"

"You're not real!" I breathlessly said, furiously wiping at my eyes and the tears leaking from them as I ran, cutting across someone's lawn. A part of me, a small part of my rational and calm side of my brain, was amazed that I hadn't tripped on nothing yet and cracked my head open.

"If I weren't real, than how can you see me?"

"I-I…" I shook my head. "You're not real. A figment of my imagination. An illness symptom."

There was a sigh and I felt a shiver go down my spine. Do hallucinations sigh? "I'll be here when you're ready to talk, honey. I've got time and I think you really need to hear what I've got to say if you think you're sick."

Some of the pressure left my head, enough for the pain to dull back down to a throb, and I felt my shoulders heave with a relieved sigh as I slowed down to a jog, panting like mad. Mustering up as much courage as I could, I chanced a glance around me, looking for the translucent skin of a hallucination, but found none. I nervously cleared my throat. "H-Hello?"

No answer.

And my hands had finally stopped trembling. I groaned, running them through my hair as I blinked back more tears and swallowed the lump in my throat. What did this mean? What the hell was happening to me?

The rest of the jog back to Charlie's house was more or less numb. I focused on keeping my feet underneath me and my eyes ahead of me, while holding in my sobs of frustration. I was a sweating, panting mess when I reached the front door, kicking off my shoes as I entered and headed straight for the kitchen. Charlie was there with his keys in hand, one boot on his foot, and a look of surprise on his face. "Bells! What - Dr. Cullen just called me and told me what happened; I was about to head out and pick you up. Are you okay? Did you see something? I - Do you need something?"

I couldn't have answered then even if I wanted to. So, I did what I could, and grabbed the first bottle of alcohol I could find in the fridge and ran up to my room, slamming the door closed and started chugging. With a shaky, nervous sigh, I sunk to the floor on the other side of my door, staring out at the sky out my window.

I had to hear what she said if I thought I was sick?

Did that mean I wasn't sick?

Silent tears slipped down my cheeks as I whacked my head back against the door, squeezing my eyes shut. Of course the hallucination would say that. It's not like it was going to tell me I was sick and seeing things and then proceed to tell me how to stop and get better.

But…

"It's not real, Bella. It's not real." I growled under my breath, bringing the bottle to my lips again.

XXxxXXxxXX

So this might very well be the shortest chapter, but I've got an idea, man. Level with me here.

Would you all prefer shorter chapters like this but more frequent updates?

Or would you prefer less frequent but longer chapters?

Lemme know.

And review!

The Nervous Rambler