Chapter 25

WARNING- THIS STORY CONTAINS MATURE THEMES SUCH AS SELF HARM AND ABUSE, PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THIS MAY UPSET OR TRIGGER YOU IN AN WAY

I have suffered with self harming before not long ago, and please if you or any of your friends/family are going through it, get help and just remember it DOES get better and you're not alone. I'm always here if you need any help I'll understand xx

Disclaimer- I do not own 'Twilight' or any of the other books written by Stephanie Meyer. All characters mentioned in this fanfic belong to the wonderful author and not me (although I wish Jacob aka Taylor Lautner belonged to me )

Bella's POV

I flinch as Jake comes behind where I'm sitting on the sofa, and yanks my sleeve up past my elbow, revealing the many cuts I had made since I'd promised Edward and Jacob that I'd stop. I feel guiltier than ever, I watch as Jake grimaces, that pained expression that takes over his face whenever I cause him yet more worry. Shit, I really shouldn't have lied to him especially when he was already told I had been cutting again by Alice but part of me thought he might believe me, not question it any further and we could go on pretending like everything was fine.

"I'm sorry," I say, although those two words would never be adequate enough for how I felt every time I made his life more complicated.

I know he'll forgive me before he even says it, because that's just the kind of person Jake is. Annoyingly kind and caring. I never deserved someone as good of a person as him in my life, it makes me realise how much I take him for granted, like he means nothing when he really means the world to me.

Sometimes I wish I could just disappear, like those movies you see where they just vanish in a puff of air or something. All I ever did was create more problems for people, give them one extra thing to worry about. I'd been a burden ever since the day I was born, trapping Renee to be a mom when she wanted to carry on living her life freely, causing Edward to leave me and be unhappy for all those months, making Charlie angry enough to start beating me and weighing Jacob down constantly with the never-ending fear that I'd end up committing suicide one day.

"Bella?" Jacob asks, tearing me away from my thoughts.

"yes."

"Did you hear me? I said it's not your fault, but this just proves even more that you need to start seeing someone, you're clearly not coping as well as you want us to believe."

"okay."

The last thing I want to do is have some stranger I don't know anything about sitting across from me, judging me for every little word that comes out of my mouth. Someone who's getting paid to listen to me ranting on and on about my life and how what Charlie did to me has had a lasting effect on me. Well, no shit Sherlock! But I don't say any of this, because I've caused enough worry to the people I love, so if me seeing some stupid therapist that isn't going to help me in any kind of way will make Jacob feel that little bit better about the whole thing, then so be it.

"I'm sorry, did you just say ok? As in you're not going to start some huge argument on me how you 'don't need to see some rando to talk a load of rubbish and listen to my every problem'?

Wow, okay. Clearly Jake listens and understands me way more than I thought he did. For some reason, the fact that he knows exactly how I feel about this makes me happy, like I'm not losing my mind talking to a brick wall.

"yes, I said okay but only because I'm sick of having this conversation, if me seeing a therapist is going to make you feel better then I'll do it."

"But that's just it, don't you get it Bella? You're supposed to want to do this for yourself, not just to shut me up. You have to want to talk about this stuff before you go and see them. There's no point seeing a therapist if you're going to absolutely hate it and not say a word to them."

"I know, I know. Okay, I'll actually talk to them just for you," I tease.

Jake just sighs, bored of the conversation now, just like me. The amount of times we've discussed me talking to somebody about everything, and it's never actually happened is ridiculous. First, when Jake found out about Charlie beating me, second when he accidentally found out about my self harming because I went too deep and ended up unconscious and lastly after you know what happened. So all in all, we are having this same conversation for the 4th time, except this time it's different, I'm willing to talk as long as it makes Jake happy.

"alright, so if you're suddenly so 'okay' with talking to somebody, then it won't be a problem going to see a therapist right now then?"

"what?"

I'm so surprised I can't speak, we've only just talked properly about this and he wants me to go and have a therapy session right now, as in today? I don't know what I expected but this definitely wasn't it. I thought he might make me go and talk to them in a couple of days, maybe even a week but not ten minutes after I agreed to it.

"I know what you're thinking, why so soon? But, Bella, I've been asking you to do this for months and you've only just now agreed so I want you to try it before you change your mind and refuse to go. I think it'll really help you. But not only that, you're cutting again and lying to everyone about it. Things are getting worse, and I want to try and stop that from happening because I'm worried about you."

I just nod at his words, too upset to give him an answer. I can't believe it's taken somebody else saying it out loud for me to realise that things are getting worse, that I'm drowning again and I cant save myself. I guess I've known for a while now, deep down, but I've just tried to ignore the instinct, not wanting to admit that I needed help, that I can't do all this on my own anymore.

Jake must read all this from just my face expression though, as he comes closer to me and gives me one of his hugs, where he squeezes you and in that moment, it's like you forget everything else that's going on because he's there and he loves you.

Jake searches up a place on his phone and before I can ask him where he's looking at, I hear the dialling tone and the sound of someone answering on the other end of the line.

"Hello?," Jake asks, holding his phone tightly to his ear.

"Hi, yes, I'm calling to see your availability and how much your sessions are please."

And that's when it becomes clear to me, he's rang the therapy place and he was being deadly serious about getting me in to see them right away like if he waits even a day longer, something awful is going to happen.

"okay, yeah that's fine, thankyou."

Jake ends the phone call and turns to look at me triumphantly.

"I'm guessing, by your smugness, that they've got a space?" I ask him, amused.

"yep, we're leaving in an hour."

"and how much is it per session?"

"$40," he answers, knowing exactly what I'm going to say.

"$40?"

What a fucking joke, the therapist is getting paid 40 fucking dollars just to listen to someone speak for less than an hour! I mean, I knew it would be overpriced, but that is just taking the piss. Not only does seeing a therapist not even make a difference in most cases, the families and people who pay for the sessions are more than likely to run out of money, having spent all their wages on a waste of time session listening to some damn woman who doesn't have a clue on what she's talking about. I know it seems like I'm overreacting a little bit here, but trust me I have a very strong opinion on private therapists and counsellors and that being that they're trying to take all your money.

Jake knows all this though, as I've told him before, so he shuts his mouth and leaves the conversation alone, not interested in listening to me rant on about how much I hate therapists.

Twenty minutes later, we're both on his bike again, me wearing the slightly smaller helmet than Jake's huge black one. Even though Jake's never been before, he seems to know where he's going as he makes a series of turns down quiet roads until we reach an ugly yellow brick building with a sign saying 'Caring Counselling'.

I have to laugh at that, at how fucking bright and cheery it sounds. Clearly they couldn't think of anything better to call their business than some crappy alliteration that makes me cringe. Jake notices, and hides a smile, although I don't think it's for the same reason I was laughing, I think it's just because he's so glad to see me laugh even it's over something so silly.

We enter the automatic doors and there's a sign saying 'Dr's M-Z' on the wall with an arrow pointing upstairs, Jake follows it and we walk up a series of winding stairs, out of breath by the time we get to the top.

"so is the therapist' last name something that starts with a letter later on in the alphabet?" I ask.

"yes, hold on.." he says, getting the email up on his phone.

"she's called Dr. Ricci"

"is she Italian or something then?"

"think so."

I try to picture her in my mind, an Italian woman in her late fifties maybe with greying hair and rimmed glasses. I don't know why but I always do this when I'm given a name, trying to picture what the person might look like even though I've never seen them.

We walk into the reception room, and I roll my eyes as the full room comes into view. Donning the walls are paintings and drawings of the sun and smiling people, with a 'breathing techniques' poster on one of the walls and another of 'How To Cope With Stress'. I mean, could this room be anymore stereotypical of a therapists' reception, with damn sunshine and rainbows littering every wall. Jake looks around too, though he seems impressed at some of the patients' work on the walls detailing on their achievements, he points one out to me and I lean closer to read it.

'I have stayed clean from self harm for two months, thanks to Dr Macchio – Isabella, age 21"

I mean come on, how cringey is that? Don't get me wrong, being clean from self harm is a big achievement and I'm happy for her, whoever the hell she is, but really 'thanks to Dr Macchio'? Pass me the sick bucket, as if this therapist who is getting paid $40 a session really gives a fuck about her patients, aside from the fact that they help with her income?

"see, people do find therapy helpful, like this person who needed help with self harm like you do," Jake says, trying to be encouraging.

"yeah."

I bite my lip nervously, because for all I can talk about how useless therapy is, I'm scared. Scared of opening up to this stranger and having to answer questions about Charlie and how he forced his way inside of me like he had every right to steal my virginity like that. Scared of having to talk about how I get those voices in head everyday and every night, never letting me shut off, telling me how I should just kill myself already and get it over and done with. I'd never tell Jake any of this, no matter how much I love him, because I don't want him to worry about me, yes, but also because I don't understand any of it. Why I feel like this, or what's wrong with me. Why is my mind so different to that of everyone else's?

Just then, a youngish woman, in her early thirties maybe, smiled at me and introduced herself as Dr. Ricci. She's not like how I pictured her at all, I imagined her to be way older and not as good looking, but she's actually quite young and pretty, her lovely tanned skin and green eyes shining in the light, her long wavy hair a luscious dark colour. I can tell she isn't how Jake expected her to be either, because he seems surprised. I guess you just don't expect a therapist to be so young, what with young people not going into that line of work nowdays. And I don't know why, but you just assume that they're not going to be pretty/handsome either, just that they'll be average looking people.

She signals for me and Jake to follow her, so we do and she leads us to a plain white room, with four sofa chairs and a mini table with a vase of yellow flowers in. The room itself is nothing spectacular, but the flowers are beautiful and they brighten up the room, making it less dull and plain.

"Take a seat" she says, gesturing to the chairs.

I sit down on the one furthest away from the therapist and closest to the door, just in case I need to leave for whatever reason. I notice my hands are shaking slightly and I curse my anxiety, no matter what the situation my legs or my hands will always give my emotions away.

Dr. Ricci seems to notice this though, as she nods knowingly and kind of annoyingly, got to admit as she asks me and Jake what led up to me coming here. I chance a glance at Jake, and he smiles at me reassuringly, showing he can tell how scared I am as well.

"well, Bella's been having a hard time recently, and we're all a bit worried," Jake says, not wanting to go into any of the details until I'm ready. I smile at him gratefully.

Dr. Ricci looks at me, a hidden question in her eyes, and I feel the signs of a panic attack coming on. I steady my breathing though, and it stops thankfully, trust me to flipping collapse or something and embarrass myself after the first session. I start to panic slightly, not knowing what to say. How can I explain the months of hell I've been through to this stranger who doesn't know the first thing about me?

She looks at me again imploringly and I take a shaky breath, Jake gives me that warm smile and it comforts me instantly. I brace myself, and begin to tell the woman in front of me everything I've had to endure and how it all gets on top of me so I cut to stop it all from choking me.

I know that the woman assumed I'd be more comfortable with talking when Jake was out of the room, but the truth was, he was the one thing that was allowing me to speak to this stranger, his presence calming me down.

Thanks for reading, this story is coming closer and closer to its end. Only a few chapters more to go, maybe five or six, maybe less depending on how it all plays out. I hope you've liked the story so far, I know I've liked writing it. What will happen next, will Bella get the help she so needs and deserves or will something darker happen? Next time :)