Another Night Alone

The next day, fewer people approached me. My classmates began to realize that I was unwilling to socialize with them, so they left me alone. Mike Newton, in a last ditch effort to be my friend, once again offered his table during lunch but I declined and took my spot by the window just like yesterday. This time, I kept my eyes on my lunch and didn't look up even though my skin crawled with the sensation of someone watching me the entire time. I knew that if I looked up I would hurtle head first in the dark pits of that angel's eyes and I didn't think I would escape so easily again.

On the walk to biology, my stomach churned uneasily. I thought very seriously about ditching, but I decided against it. If I skipped class, word would have gotten to Charlie and he would have told the detectives. I didn't need that.

I walked into the classroom and was relieved to find that I had gotten there first. I quickly sat down and pulled out my notebook, this time completely determined to avoid the person who sat next to me.

Minutes later, I heard the stool next to scrape against the tile. After my lab partner had taken his seat, Mr. Banner came around with a box and a microscope and set them on our table. Inwardly, I groaned; it must have been a lab.

When Mr. Banner was finished explaining the purpose of the exercise, I heard a velvety smooth voice come from my left. "Hello. I'm sorry I didn't introduce myself yesterday; my name is Edward Cullen. You must be Bella Swan."

I couldn't help it. I looked up and what I saw distinctly shocked me.

Instead of reeling in shock and pain from looking into identically black, fathomless pits like I expected to, I stared into a pair of dark gold eyes. They were the color of bright topazes, brilliantly faceted and deep as oceans. He was smiling at me, and I felt my heart pump faster at the beauty in his face.

"Hi," I murmured when I finally returned to my senses. Without another word, I reached for the first slide and put it under the microscope. The sooner we finished this lab, the sooner I could stop talking to him.

We breezed through the exercise rapidly, never second guessing our findings. I had done the lab once before and Edward must have been a genius or something because he looked through the lens much more quickly than I did. Mr. Banner came by to check our work and grudgingly nodded before continuing his patrol of the other lab groups.

Oh no, I thought to myself, slightly panicked. There's nothing else to do.

"So how do you like Forks?" I heard my lab partner ask. I wanted to groan; I really hated small talk.

"It's fine," I replied shortly. Maybe if I kept my answers abrupt, he would stop trying to talk to me. It worked with everyone else in this town so far.

Unfortunately, I greatly underestimated Mr. Cullen. "You hate it." I heard a smile in his voice.

I made the mistake of looking up once again. While I didn't exactly fall into a pit of unwanted memories and emotions like I did when his eyes were black, I was somehow sucked in. He absorbed me, and I started talking against my will. "I don't hate it. It's just different."

"Different from…?"

"Phoenix."

He raised his ginger brow in a questioning expression. "Why would someone from Phoenix choose to move to Forks?"

"My mother and father are traveling abroad, so I'm living with my Uncle Charlie," I said automatically. "I didn't really have much of a choice."

He frowned and I felt a vague sense of panic. "Why didn't they take you with them?"

"They wanted me to finish my education in the States," I replied.

Edward rolled his eyes jokingly. "Yes, because the United States is known for its stellar education program."

I felt the corners of my mouth lift upward involuntarily, but I didn't say anything further. Instead I turned my gaze to the light blue lines on my notebook.

"How do you like the school?" he suddenly asked.

I sighed. It looked like I was going to have to be a little blunt.

"You don't have to do this," I said very bluntly, staring him in the eyes and willing myself not to notice his immense beauty.

Genuine confusion crossed his face. "Do what?"

"Make small talk. I know you're just doing this to be polite, but I'd prefer it if you didn't."

He cocked his head to the side like a child. "Why?"

Lucky for me, Mr. Banner made his way back to the front of the room and started to explain the lab. I breathed a sigh of relief and pulled out my notebook, taking careful notes at everything he said, though I already knew everything. My skin started to prickle and I knew Edward Cullen was staring at me once again.

I bit my lip to keep from sighing. What was his fascination with me, anyway? Why couldn't he just leave me alone, like the rest of this stupid town? They all got the hint.

When the bell finally rang, I stuffed my books in my backpack as quickly as I could and strode out the door. Edward, however, appeared next to me, keeping up with my brisk pace easily. "You never answered my question," he pointed out.

I was dangerously close to actually feeling something, so I stopped and breathed. "I hate small talk," I said simply. "It's pointless and shallow. Small talk never gets past the surface."

His golden eyes narrowed. "Fine. Then why don't you tell why you're really here?"

My stomach fell to the ground. "What do you mean?"

"You were lying earlier," he accused. "You were lying when you said that your parents were traveling abroad. Why are you really here?"

"I wasn't lying," I said defensively.

"Yes, you were. Your answer was too quick and you couldn't look me in the eyes when you said it. Why are you lying about why you're here? What are you hiding?"

Anger coursed through me and my insides ripped wide open. "Why do you care?" I demanded, ignoring the slowly worsening ache. Geez, I barely knew Edward but he was already causing so much pain.

He paused, his face suddenly unsure. "I'm not sure," he whispered.

"Then why don't you stop, and leave me alone." And before he could say anything else, I turned on my heel and ran to gym. I was already late and I missed class yesterday. I couldn't risk my reputation with the school so early in the year.

For once in my life, physical education was actually helpful. The anger that threatened to widen the already broad gap in my insides was instead transferred to the hapless volleyball we played with. Granted, I wasn't a very talented player, but I was at least forceful. We had to switch out balls in the middle of the game because the brand-new one we were playing with already started to deflate.

By the end of gym, I was sweaty and tired, but blissfully numb. Perhaps I was too quick when dismissing volleyball as a useless skill. It helped me regain my sanity.

When I got back to the house, a dark blue car with tinted windows was already parked in the driveway. I watched it wearily for a moment, but Detectives Manning and Anderson emerged with someone I had never seen before when they saw my truck.

"Hey, Bella," Manning called. I climbed out of my truck and approached them. "We're just coming to check up on you. How have you been?"

"Fine."

They chuckled. "May we come in?"

I shrugged. "Sure." They followed me up the front porch and I unlocked the door. I crossed the threshold of the house and left the door open for them.

"So you started school yesterday, huh?" asked Anderson.

I nodded.

"How do you like it here?" Manning inquired.

I shrugged again. "It's fine."

The realized I wasn't going to say anything else, so they turned to their companion. "Bella, this is Dr. Levsky," Manning told me. "He's a psychiatric consult for the FBI and he's willing to listen to you if you want."

"Hello, Bella," he said with a warm smile. Dr. Levsky seemed nice enough—there wasn't anything particularly suspicious about him. "I was wondering if we could go somewhere and just talk."

I shrugged. If he was willing to waste his time, then that was his prerogative.

"We'll be taking a look at the perimeter around the house," Anderson informed me. "We're just going to make sure it's safe."

"Don't hesitate to call us if you need us," Manning added.

I nodded and with that, they left the house leaving me with the shrink.

"Would you like to go somewhere more comfortable?" he asked.

Wordlessly, I turned and led him to the small living room. It was the first time I had ever been in this room—I tried to avoid coming here as much as possible, since Charlie spent as much time here in front of the television as he could.

I took a seat on the couch and he took the armchair. We sat in silence for a little while until Dr. Levsky took it upon himself to break the ice. "Do you like it in Forks?"

I shrugged.

"Have you made any friends at school?"

I shook my head. Friends were not an option at this point.

"Why not?"

I shrugged again. "I don't want any."

"Why's that?"

I quickly came to a conclusion; the sooner I talked, the sooner he would leave. "What's the point? I'm not going to be staying here for much longer."

"So you don't want to form any attachments in a situation you think is temporary?"

"Yeah. Something like that."

He paused for a moment. "Bella, Detectives Manning and Anderson told me that you're much quieter than you were when they first met you. Why is that?"

I shrugged once more. "Nothing much to talk about."

He frowned. "Your parents—"

"Don't," I interrupted. The mere mention of my parents ripped through me like a gutting knife. "Don't talk about them."

"Why not?"

"I don't want to talk about them."

Dr. Levsky sighed. "Your parents passed away," he stated, as if I didn't know. For the second time that afternoon anger coursed through me, but this time I was positively livid.

"They didn't pass away—they were murdered," I growled.

"Is there a difference?"

"Yes!" I shouted. "There is a difference! Passed away is what you say when someone dies in their sleep. Murder is when someone takes someone else's life! My parents had their lives stolen from them!"

"You're angry," he stated.

"Of course I'm angry!" I screamed. There was no going back now—I was talking and the emotions were flowing, and the knife in my gut was slowly twisting. It would take hours for me to get back to that numbed state.

"But why are you angry?"

"Because that bastard Alan Vickers killed my parents!" How could this guy be a doctor? Weren't shrinks supposed to be smart?

"Is that really why you're angry?" he asked quietly. "Or is there something else?"

I huffed. "Why would there be something else?"

"Can you take me through it, Bella? Can you tell me what happened?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because I already told you I didn't want to talk about it! God, what is it with you people? Why don't you ever listen? Can't you understand that it hurts? It fucking hurts!"

"Bella, the sooner you face this, the sooner you can heal."

"NO! I don't want to face this! Just leave it alone!"

"That numbed feeling will only hurt you in the end," Dr. Levsky insisted. "You've been keeping to yourself, you've been quiet to keep yourself from feeling anything, but in the end you're only hurting yourself more! You can't heal until you face this pain!"

"If I had to choose between the pain and the numbness, I'd choose the numbness in a second," I said coldly. "I'm better off feeling nothing."

"Bella, can't you see? The pain you feel shows that you're alive, that you're still human. Don't run from it, embrace it!"

"SHUT UP!" I jumped up from my seat. I couldn't take him anymore. "Get out of this house! Just get out!"

Dr. Levsky sighed, but stood slowly. He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a card. "If you ever need to talk, Bella, don't be afraid to call me," he said as he dropped the card on the coffee table. "When Detectives Anderson and Manning come back to check on you, I'll come with them. I really want to help you."

"If you really want to help, then get out," I hissed through a clenched jaw. "Tell the detectives thank you for me."

He nodded. "Goodbye, Bella." Then he strode out of the living room and out the door. I slammed it shut behind him and locked it tight.

Several minutes later, I heard the car pull out of the driveway and I ran up the staircase to get to my room. The minute I reached the door, I flung it open and shut it again just as forcefully, launching myself into that rocking chair. Tears were streaming down my face, and I curled up tightly in an attempt to force the torn edges of the hole together. My body physically ached and my heart throbbed in my chest, as if someone had just wrapped their fingers around it and squeezed as hard as they could.

I pressed my forehead against my knees and forced myself to breathe deeply. How could this possibly be healthy? I asked myself. This pain, this never ending pain was what made me human? Then I didn't want to be human anymore. I would have traded absolutely everything just to make this ache inside my soul go away.

Soon enough my tears dried, and though my chest still ached, I was controlled enough to move, at the very least. So I slowly descended the stairs to start on dinner before Charlie got home.

I decided to make something simple—after that surprise visit from Dr. Levsky, I wasn't exactly in the best shape to handle anything dangerous, like knives or stoves. So I threw together a quick lasagna with an accompanying salad and garlic bread.

Charlie got home just as I was pulling the garlic bread out of the oven. He sniffed the air appreciatively. "Smells really good, Bella," he said with a smile.

I nodded, but said nothing. I had far surpassed my speaking quota for the day; as far as I was concerned, I didn't have to talk until next week.

After dinner, I followed my newly established routine: homework, then staring out the window. I hadn't slept in the past forty-eight hours, but no matter how exhausted I was (both physically and emotionally) I couldn't let myself fall asleep. Doom was all that awaited me in sleep and I knew my subconscious wanted revenge, since I had managed to escape it for the past two nights.

Unfortunately, my body wouldn't listen to reason. I struggled, fought, raged against my drooping eyelids, but against my will they fell over my tired eyes and my body immediately shut down.

"Bella," I heard a voice whisper. "Bella, wake up."

I couldn't wake up. I knew what would happen if I did. I tried to feign sleep a little while longer, but a cold, hard hand slapped smartly across my face.

"Wake up," the voice demanded.

I winced at the cold tone, knowing I could no longer pretend. So I reluctantly opened my eyelids; the light in that room was much too dim to see anything properly, which in hindsight was a good thing. If it had proper lighting, the nightmares would have been worse.

My companion stood in the shadows with a rope in his hand. At that moment, I no longer felt fear for what would happen to me…I just wanted to die.

"I hope you can scream louder for me tonight, baby," the throaty voice murmured in my ear. "I was a little disappointed last night, so I better be able to hear you this time."

My skin crawled where his breath touched me. I felt dirty, unclean…I wanted nothing more than to leave and take a shower, but my body was too sore. I could hardly move.

A pair of sudden, rough hands grabbed my sides and started stroking the sensitive skin. Struggling was pointless—not only was I too weak, but squirming would give the wrong impression. He would think that I liked it and he would move on to much worse actions. I wanted to withhold that moment as long as possible. Despite my apathy, I still had a small inkling of self-preservation.

"Oh, Bella," the voice whispered, "you're so soft…so beautiful. So delicate and lovely…and you're mine. You're all mine."

I couldn't even struggle against the chains that kept me to the bed posts because my shoulders were dislocated. My wrists itched and ached from the heavy iron, and the skin chafed. In addition, my blood wasn't properly circulating to my arms, having been in that position for much too long.

My companion left the room, but I knew better than to hope. Seconds later he returned with something black in his hand. What little blood remained in my face immediately left it; my insides turned to ice and my heart thumped inhumanly hard. When would this end? When would this torture end?

Could no one but this monster hear my cries?

In one swift moment, he was at my side and he threw the black bag he held in his hand over my head. He held the opening tightly against my throat, cutting off my oxygen supply.

"Scream!" he shouted. "Scream!"

I couldn't scream. I couldn't even breathe.

When he realized that I wasn't complying, he punched me through the cloth. I wailed, but it was muffled by my choking throat and the black material pressed over my face. He punched me in my stomach, and this time I let out an all mighty yell. My throat swelled and released the bag's tight hold over it, which allowed fresh air to briefly enter. I swallowed greedily, hoping to get as much as I could before it was gone once again.

It turned out, I didn't have to. My torturer ripped the bag off my head and grabbed a handful of my hair. He brought his face lower to mine and I registered his contorted face in my blurry eyesight. "When I tell you to do something, bitch, you'll do it!" He punched my face once again, agitating my already swollen jaw.

His black eyes bore into mine and my skin tingled. How I wanted to die…

With a sinister smile, he released his hold of my hair and pulled out the rope. "I'll show you what real pain is, baby," he whispered lovingly now. "I promise you'll like it."

"No!" I managed to shout. "Please, please stop!"

"Bitch!" he roared as he whipped my bare chest with the rope. I cried out in pain. "Don't scream until I tell you to!"

"Please, stop!" I continued to yell. "Stop, just stop!"

He uncoiled the full length of the rope and tied it around my neck.

"STOP!"

"Just let go, baby," he whispered. "Enjoy yourself."

"NO!"

I hurtled forward out of the rocking chair, only to find my bedroom light on and Charlie standing next to me with a worried expression on his face. "Bella! Bella, are you okay?" he asked anxiously.

I clutched at my throat to make sure the rope was not around my neck. Then my stomach convulsed and I ran to the bathroom before I emptied its contents all over the room. Luckily I managed to get to the toilet in time. I heaved and I vomited what little I had to eat that day. I heaved and heaved until there was nothing left inside of me. Charlie was in the bathroom soon after me, holding back my hair.

When I was finished, I lifted my head from the toilet bowl and leaned my head against the wall. "Thank you, Charlie," I said hoarsely.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice and facial expression completely concerned.

I nodded and slowly tried to get up. "I'll be fine," I promised. "I'm sorry that I woke you up."

His eyes weren't convinced. "Bella…" He hesitated. "Bella, if you need anyone to talk to, I'm here. You can always talk to me, you know."

Not likely. "Thank you, Charlie," I repeated. "You should get back to bed."

When he was certain that I wasn't going to start throwing up again, I washed the rancid taste of vomit from my mouth and went back to my room. I sighed wearily the moment my butt touched the chair. How much pain would I be forced to suffer? How many times would I have to relive the events of the past? When would this end?

I pressed my knees against my chest and sighed. To my horror, several lone tears still left over from this afternoon escaped their prison and rolled down my cheeks. I was just so tired.

I leaned back and leaned forward quickly to set the rocking chair in motion. I was so tired of this existence. I was ready for the end.

Something white peeked in the corner of my eye. I turned my head and saw the tiny little business card Dr. Levsky had left me. I uncurled my limbs and reached for the card. One side had his name, his address, his email and his phone number and a picture of a crane on it. On the other side, Dr. Levsky had scrawled something in a slanted, small but even script.

Bella,

Don't be afraid to lean others for support. People offer their shoulders in hopes that they will be used. We can't always get up on our own—we need friends to help us out. Reach out to someone here. You won't be sorry that you did.

My phone is always on.

Dr. Levsky

Something swelled inside of me; it felt like despair. It was all very nice for the good doctor to say that if I reached out, people would be more than willing to help me through this, but he didn't know the extent of the damage. I was broken beyond repair…there was really no point in trying to glue the pieces back together, because it was already too late.

Suddenly, I wondered how the card got up here. The last I remembered, I didn't even touch it after Dr. Levsky left it on the table. I shrugged and simply blamed Charlie—he must have left it in my room while he was in here. I opened the drawer in my bedside table and threw it in there. Then I curled up once again in that old rocking chair, ignoring the peculiar tingles that crawled across my skin.

A/N - Wow, you guys! This story is getting a phenomenal response and I'm blown away! I really appreciate the reviews, so keep it up!

Please keep in mind that this story really isn't for the faint of stomach and/or heart. I'm really not kidding when I say that this story has angst up the wazoo, so if you can't handle it, I sincerely suggest that you stop reading.