Author's Note:

Hey! Thank you all for reviewing, alerting, and favoriting me and my stories. I love you all! Also, go check out flutetenorsaxplayer2008's stories, All My Life, Gifted, and The Lost Daughter of Russia. They are all really good. Like, really good! Okay! On with the story.

Prologue:

She paints her eyes as black as night, now, pulls those shades down tight.

Yeah, she gives a smile when the pain comes,

The pains gonna make everything alright.

Chapter Twelve: She Talks To Angels

Bella's Point of View

I squeezed my eyes shut tightly. It felt like nothing; in fact, I felt some sort of release.

But now, it just hurt like hell. I grabbed towels, trying to stop the blood.

A sharp knock sounded on the bathroom door.

"Bella? Are you okay? You have been in there for a while." Asked a worried sounding Emmett. I felt a shot of adrenaline run through my whole body, praying that he wouldn't open the bathroom door and find out what it was that I was doing.

Fortunately, lady luck decided to lend a hand. I blurted out, "Yeah, I'm just taking a bath!" He grunted and I heard footsteps walking down the hall, and slowly faded down the stairs.

I sighed, and gripped the counter. Then, I realized that blood was dripping profusely from my wrists.

"Shit," I muttered to myself. I grabbed gauze, and wrapped both my wrists in a thick layer of it, praying that the blood wouldn't seep through. Sighing, I grabbed a hoodie I had left in the bathroom the other day, pulled it on, and crept out of the bathroom, praying that maybe luck would be merciful to me.

"Bella?" Oh, god, why me? I thought desperately to myself.

"Bella, that was fast! Wait, your hair isn't even wet?" Emmett said, sounding almost taken aback. I struggled for some sort of explanation, and then, fumbling with the words, I lied very carefully.

"Um, well, yeah, you see, I took a bath, I, um, didn't dunk my head or anything, so that would explain that." I struggled to lessen the blood rushing to my face, trying to make myself a little more convincing.

Emmett looked as if he wanted to argue more; he obviously was having a hard time believing me. But, surprisingly, he sighed, leaving it alone.

"Okay," he said warily, as if making sure I was stable. I rolled my eyes.

"Can I go now," I asked impatiently. My wrists were really starting to sting, and all I wanted to do at that moment was get to my bedroom, and get some painkillers.

Ow! Isn't this supposed to be a release? I thought to myself, biting back a grimace.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Emmett gave me one last look, before turning around and running down the stairs, calling out to somebody.

I blew out a large puff of air, before sprinting as lightly as I could across the hardwood floors of our hallway.

When I reached the confines of my room, where I could cry and no one could see, I began to do just that. I took out my poem notebook, and started to write.

By the time I was finished, I had written a whole entire poem.

In spite of my insanity,

you devour my every word,

my every lie, bask in your own naïve-ness,

and your oblivious trust.

It will truly end your life,

if you keep ignoring the fact that I'm not sane.

But secretly, I scream at you to stay.

I closed the notebook, grabbing one of my wrists tightly, trying to stop the pain. It was sort of a habit—whenever I was hurt, my main thought was to put pressure on it, because it 'hurt less.'

I honestly don't really know if that's true, but oh well. All I really cared about was getting this to stop.

It was sometime around two in the morning that the painkillers finally kicked in, effectively knocking me out. I sighed, enjoying the feeling of lethargy and numbness that took over my body and lulled me to sleep.

Edward's Point of View (Confession)

I pulled Bella closer to my body, watching as she wrapped her mind around my sudden, professed love for her.

I was two inches away now. Her breathtaking beauty was getting harder and harder to resist. Everything about this girl was beautiful.

"I—he—what? "I—I can't. Not anymore." She struggled for words, and although her sentence technically did not make a bit of sense, the intention of it was clear enough.

One inch. "Bella, what can I do to convince you that what I say is true, that I do love you?" I asked, anguish consuming me. But in the next second, I realized that it didn't matter what she said or did, I what going to follow through on this one thing.

"There is absolutely nothing that you can say or do that will convince me to—" I didn't even allow her to finish her comment. My lips were moving against hers, and I sighed.

This was so much more different. Where Lauren's kissing was probably considered to be more of an assault than anything else, this kiss was sweet.

I felt Bella struggle against me weakly. I could practically feel her resistance dying.

Sure enough, instead of trying to push me away, she ended up pulling me closer. My hands traveled from her face, to rest on her hips. I felt as if I were lit on some sort of beautiful fire. There was this foreign feeling in my chest, a dull ache, that I could not identify. My lips savored the feel of hers, until we both needed air, and I pulled away gently for a moment. Then, something in Bella's eyes shifted. They became pained, horrified.

No, no, no, no, I can't lose her, not when I just got her back. Not after what just happened. I thought to myself frantically. I was about to start kissing away her doubts, her thoughts, yet again, but stopped myself, seeing I was already too late. She was shaking in my arms. Finally, she pulled away, confirming my fears once and for all.

"I'm sorry," she whispered sadly, tears in her eyes. How could I have been so stupid as to kiss her? How could I truly love her, when I was toying with her emotions like that?

You, Edward, are an utter asshole. My mind scolded me.

"No! Bella! You can't tell me that you didn't respond? That must have meant something, I mean, you must have felt something." I was pleading with her right now.

I had the strangest sense of déjà vu for a moment, before remembering that this was exactly what had happened before. Except, I had not been on the receiving end of such torture the first time this had happened, not even one week previous to that night. Now I had a better understanding of what I had put her through.

She spoke again now. "I'm sorry Edward," she started. I tried to brace myself for the pain that would surely come next. "But this is goodbye. I can't be with you, or, or, be friends, or more. I just, can't."

I felt something turn into stone. I felt something inside of me die. And, with hardened heart and eyes, I said venomously, "Fine. Fine, Bella. Go ahead and deny it. Deny this. But just remember that when you come back, when he hurts you, I won't be waiting." She burst into tears. It was almost painful to watch. It would have been painful to watch, had the part in me that actually cared about anything still been alive and inside of me. But as it was, that was not the case, and I continued on with my own form of revenge and, maybe, final closure.

"Congratulations on breaking my heart Bella. I—you know what? Just go back to your little friends. I don't even want to talk to you anymore. I just can't deal with you anymore."

That hit home. I could see it in her face, her eyes, the way she had suddenly seemed so much smaller, so much more vulnerable. I had done some real damage. Satisfied, I turned, hiding what I thought was a happy smile.

I was still smiling when I heard the door to her house slam, and when I walked back to my house, even as I walked through my very own door.

I thought that my smile was the picture of true happiness. Apparently, I was dead wrong. Although Esme and Carlisle had already gone to bed early, Jasper had waited for me to come home.

"Edward?! What the hell happened? You look like you just cut your own arm right off!" I gasped, and whirled to look into the decorative mirror in the front hallway.

He was right. My smile was not even close to being a smile. There were tears running down my cheeks and face, and I truly looked as if someone had put me through physical pain.

All of a sudden, the part of me I thought had died at Bella's house didn't feel quite so dead anymore.

In fact, it felt more alive than ever before.

And it hurt, more than anything, it hurt. So this is what she has gone through three times now. Holy. Shit.

If I thought I was in pain, I couldn't imagine how Bella felt.

Author's Note

Hey everybody! Did you like it? Even though it was basically just Edward's thoughts and stuff, and a little bit of Bella in the beginning of the chapter. Just so you know, I write all of the poems you see in this story. So, if they suck, please let me know, so I won't torture you all anymore with my poetry. I mean, I have no clue if it's good or not, but it's my favorite thing to write, besides fanfiction, so yeah.

ALSO!! I HAVE AN ANNOUNCEMENT!!

Check out the Advertisement Section of my profile! You should all go check out those stories! I am also going to have an Advertisement Section in my chapters, so if you're looking for some really good reads, check 'em out!

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Read All My Life, Gifted, and The Lost Daughter of Russia, by flutetenorsaxplayer2008, they're all REALLY good!

Check out All This Green! By teamedwardc101, it's one of the first fanfics I ever read!

Hope you liked it!

Peace!

Norah