A/N - I feel obligated once again to remind everyone that this story contains MASSIVE AMOUNTS OF ANGST, this chapter in particular. If you can't handle it, I sincerely suggest you stop reading.

Pay No Mind, I'm Doing Fine

"Bella, are you sure you're fine?" Charlie asked once more before he climbed into his police cruiser. "Do you want to skip school for today? I can call the school and I can call in work, tell them that you're not feeling very well."

I shook my head. "I really am okay," I insisted. The last thing I wanted to do was spend the day in my room, staring out the window and fighting off sleep. At least when I was out of the house, I had a better chance at battling my fatigue.

"If you're sure…" he trailed off uncertainly.

But I nodded as convincingly as I could. "You go," I gestured. "Go, I'll be fine."

He bit his lip, but against his will, he climbed into his car and drove off. A moment later, I locked the door behind me and walked to my truck. I stared apathetically at the icy roads; I had never driven in this kind of weather before, but how hard could it be? People in Minnesota did this every day.

I got to school with no incident, feeling a small sense of pride and victory. Not only had I convinced Charlie that I was fine, but I managed drive on the frozen roads without killing anyone. That warranted a pat on the back at least.

At school, no one approached me, which greatly relieved me. From this day on, I was sure that my classmates would take the hint and leave me alone.

Biology, however, was a different story. The minute I took my seat, my flesh rose with goose bumps. Edward Cullen was once again staring at me.

"Good afternoon, Bella," he said softly. I nodded to show that I heard him, but I said nothing in return. I was determined to ignore him today. He sighed softly, but made no more attempts to get me to speak to him.

Minutes later Mr. Banner started to roll in a huge audio/visual frame with an outdated television and a VCR. All around me, the class was exuberant; watching a movie meant that it was a break from having to take notes.

The lights turned off once the movie started. Immediately, my eyes started to droop heavily. I leaned forward on my desk and rested my chin on my forearms, my mind slowly melting into unconsciousness.

Suddenly, I was no longer in that classroom. I was lying in a hospital bed quickly waking up. A nurse stood at the foot of my bed, reading the machines and taking note of their readings on my chart. Then she realized that I was awake. "Miss Dwyer," she sighed in relief. "You're awake."

I struggled to shake my head of the fog that floated around, but it clung to my brain. I realized faintly that they may have put me on some sort of painkiller. "How long have I been asleep?" I asked in a muffled voice. I suddenly realized that there was a large bandage wound around my chin and jaw, making it impossible for me to speak properly.

She smiled sadly. "Six days," the nurse replied. "Dr. Porter was afraid that you wouldn't wake up. You've definitely sustained a lot of head trauma."

Just then, someone's head peeked in through my door. "Miss Dwyer," he said happily when he realized I was awake. He entered the room and strode to my bedside. "How do you feel?" he asked as he pulled out a pen light from the pocket of his white lab coat and flashed it in my eyes.

"Sore," I replied.

His eyes softened in sympathy. "You went through hell. I'm not surprised."

As he examined me, everything started to come back. Images began to flood my mind's eye, grisly, terrifying images. But the only thing I didn't remember was how it all ended. "What happened?" I asked. "How did I get here? The last thing I remember was…" I swallowed. "The last thing I remember was…him…tying a rope around my neck."

The doctor who was examining me clenched his jaw. "He squeezed that rope really tightly, so tight that you passed out from lack of oxygen," he said in a measured voice. "Someone passing by heard you screaming and they called the police. The paramedics came with them and when they found you, they thought they were too late."

I swallowed hard. They almost were.

When he was finished with his examination, he took the chart from the nurse and wrote something down. "We had to perform emergency surgery while you were unconscious, Miss Dwyer. You had several broken ribs, a broken jaw, and internal bleeding. Luckily we managed to stop the bleeding before it got too far and we set your ribs. Our head of plastic surgery, Dr. Mackenzie, did some reconstructive surgery to set your jaw, so your speech is going to be a little muddled for a while. Your head sustained significant trauma and it started bleeding, but Dr. Porter managed to stem that. In addition, both your shoulders had popped out of your sockets, so our orthopedic surgeons popped it back in for you. You managed to pull through everything very admirably. We're going to keep you here for observations, but I think you're going to make a full recovery."

My relief only lasted for a moment. "What about my parents?" I demanded. "How are they?"

The nurse's eyes started glistening and I had my answer before she even said anything.

"Miss Dwyer," the doctor began gently, "the paramedics didn't find them until much later. By the time we found them, it was too late. They were already dead."

My throat swelled. "No…" I whispered.

"I'm very sorry," he said, a sad smile on his face.

"No!"

"Miss Swan!"

I started. The hospital quickly dissolved and left the darkened biology classroom behind. The light from the television illuminated Mr. Banner's disapproving expression. Around me, my classmates snickered at my folly of having fallen asleep.

"Miss Swan, if you are incapable of paying attention during class, may I suggest the principal's office? I'm sure that would hold your attention quite nicely." The class snickered again.

I shook my head quickly, trying to still my trembling fingers. "No, Mr. Banner," I said shakily. "I'm sorry, I'll pay attention." To my horror, my cheeks were wet. I raised my shaking hands to wipe away the moisture.

Beside me, I felt Edward Cullen's gaze drill into my skin. In my moment of weakness, I turned my head and stared back. Immediately, I wished I hadn't.

His ocher stare was intense, his ginger brows furrowed in concern. His expression demanded the truth without saying a single word and my already weakened defenses shattered at the sight of his powerful expression. I turned my gaze back to the movie, hoping to hide my tears from his scrutiny and also hoping to prevent myself from bursting into hysterical sobs.

When the bell rang, I quickly stuffed my things into my backpack, but the procedure was hindered by my shaking hands. It probably wasn't the best idea for me to go to gym, but that couldn't be helped.

"Bella?" a soft voice asked from behind.

I jumped in surprise and turned to find Edward still staring at me with those forceful, dark gold eyes. "I'm late," I said unsteadily before I threw the strap of my backpack over my shoulders and strode out of the classroom. Unfortunately, he kept up with me quite easily.

"Are you all right?" he insisted.

"I'm fine," I said quickly. "You should get to class, Edward."

I felt rather than heard him leave and I sighed heavily. He was truly much too observant for his own good; if I wasn't careful, he could be dangerous.

In P.E. we started a unit on badminton. I focused hard as Coach Clapp explained the game; the complicated rules served as a welcome distraction from everything else.

By the time the final bell rang, I managed to calm myself to that numbed state. It seemed that as of late it was very difficult to sustain it; memories, dreams and black and gold eyes dropped ripples in the smooth surface. I wasn't being as careful as I should have.

I made chicken enchiladas for dinner that night. Charlie was wary at first—I couldn't blame him, Forks wasn't exactly known for its Mexican cuisine—but after the first bite, he relaxed. "This is really good, Bella."

"Thanks."

After we were finished eating, I rose to wash the dishes. Charlie quickly cleared the table and dropped the mail on it. "Something came for you," he said. "It's in the big manila envelope."

"Okay," I said. When the dishes were finished, I took the envelope and retreated to my room. I closed the door and sat down at my desk to lift the flap and reach inside. I pulled out several small, glossy sheets of paper, realizing quickly that they were photographs. My fingers turned them over and my heart abruptly stopped. My throat closed up and the enchiladas churned in my stomach. Without a second thought, I bolted out of my room and into the bathroom. For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, I vomited.

Charlie must have heard the retching sounds because he was in the doorway in an instant. "Bella?" he asked worriedly. "What happened?"

When I was finished, I lifted my face from the toilet bowl and shook my head. "Nothing," I replied. "I shouldn't have made enchiladas tonight. It didn't agree with my stomach."

He paused. "If you're sure," he said slowly. It looked like he wanted to do more. It looked like he wanted to stay, just in case I started throwing up again.

"Really, Charlie. I'm fine."

"Okay," he said hesitantly. "But try and eat something later."

"I will," I promised.

He left the doorway to the bathroom and I rinsed my mouth out, all the while thinking of what to do. He knew where I was; I had to tell the detectives.

When I got back to my room, I pulled Detective Manning's card from the drawer in my bedside table, ready to run downstairs and dial her number. This was the kind of thing she'd want to know about. This was the kind of thing she warned against.

I strode quickly back to the door, but my hand paused over the doorknob. I hesitated and the sense of urgency quickly started to drain from me. What did it matter? So what if he knew? Why should I call and cause undue stress and worry on people who had already done so much for me already?

I could almost hear my mother's disapproving tone, but I shoved that thought aside before my lungs had the chance to constrict. If I was being honest with myself, I had to admit that the thought of dying didn't terrify me. In fact, I nearly welcomed it.

And besides, the detectives would come back soon to do a once over of the town and they'd bring that idiotic shrink with them. And I trusted Charlie to keep me alive. There was no need to get them prematurely worried. So with the decision made, I went back to bedside table and tossed the card in there. Then I took the photographs that lay on my desk and ripped them in half without taking another look. They fell to the trash and they stayed there; like the rest of my memories, I tossed them and fought tooth and nail to keep them away.

Unfortunately, the memories refused to be tossed as easily as the photographs, this time. I finally realized with sickening horror the full extent of what he had done to me, what he had taken from me.

The images were still embedded in my mind's eye, ingrained for good. I felt my shoulders throb at the memory and my throat close up. Luckily, my stomach was already empty so I couldn't vomit anything, but it only added to the horrible empty feeling. My chest ached, almost as if he were atop me all over again. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew that this wasn't real—the pain I was feeling was just from reliving the memories, courtesy of the photographs. But the majority of my mind wasn't willing to listen to the logical side right now. It was too busy drowning in the pain.

I curled up in the rocking chair and squeezed my legs very tightly. No amount of staring or concentrating was going to make this go away. It seemed like I was going to have to resort to something much more drastic tonight.

I walked to my desk and searched for something, anything that might help. Then my eyes fell on a pair of scissors.

No! the rational side of my brain screamed. Don't do this! You'll regret it!

But once again, the rational side of my brain was ignored. I had read somewhere that it felt like release and I was looking for that tonight.

I waited until Charlie was sound asleep. When I heard his snores through my bedroom walls, I quietly tiptoed to the bathroom and locked the door, scissors in hand. I looked up into the mirror and stared at my reflection; my face was thinner, sallower than it had been three months ago. There were bags under my eyes and frown lines bracketed the corners of my mouth. They seemed like permanent fixtures nowadays, almost as if I had grown up with them.

I couldn't take it; there was no way I could do this with the lights on—not with my empty-eyed reflection watching. So after making sure I knew where the sink was, I turned around and flipped the light switch. I was plunged in complete darkness.

Please, I heard a voice in my head beg. It sounded suspiciously like my mother's. Bella, don't do this. Please don't do this. But I had already made up my mind.

Slowly, very slowly, I opened the scissors and pressed the open edge against the inside of my left forearm. I dug the point into my skin and gasped sharply at the pain. The smell of rust and salt crashed against my nose and I began to feel dizzy. Quickly, before I could pass out, I dragged the edge sideways against my skin; I pressed the blade just hard enough to draw blood, but not so hard that I would do more damage that I meant to.

When I was finished, I held the cut over the sink and let the scissors clatter to the tile. The smell was terrible, overwhelming and threatening to pull me under consciousness, but I let the cut bleed. I breathed through my mouth and that helped a little. The nauseated feeling abated, at the very least, and my head wasn't spinning quite as much anymore.

As the liquid oozed over my skin, the image of those photos slowly faded away until they were nothing but a faint outline in the very back of my brain. The pain in my shoulders left, almost as it had bled out with the cut I had made. In fact, every ache in my body seemed to gather on one point on my arm and as it bled, the anguish left as well.

When I reached that final deadened state, I rinsed the cut under a stream of hot water from the faucet. Then I pulled out a roll of gauze from the medicine cabinet and wrapped it around the arm. I was grateful for the very first time that the constantly cloudy weather in Forks called for long-sleeves nine months out of the year.

When I was finished dressing my wound, I washed the blood off the scissors. Then I left the bathroom and tiptoed quietly back to my room. I left the scissors on my desk, easily accessible, in case this exercise was necessary again. Of course, I didn't want to do it again—I didn't want to do it in the first place. But tonight, I was desperate.

I just have to be more careful from now on, I thought to myself. I can't let things like photographs and memories get to me. And I have to do a better job of ignoring Edward Cullen. He's dangerous and I can't be around him.

But how was he dangerous? Was he dangerous because of that all-consuming, hateful glare he threw at me the very first biology class I spent with him? Or was he dangerous because of something else?

One thing was for sure; he was so entirely different. While the rest of the school got my not-so-subtle hints to leave me alone, he did the complete opposite. In a place where I wanted nothing more than to be ignored, he noticed me. He noticed and he poked and pried with his devilishly handsome features and intense eyes.

What was more, he saw through my lies. He realized I had been lying about why I was here, which could be very dangerous if I let the situation escalate. Once and for all, I had to stop talking to him. I couldn't let him get to me.

I fell asleep once again in that rocking chair as my mind raced with thoughts of Edward Cullen. And for the very first time, he made an appearance in my dreams.

"Bella," he said sternly. His face wore the same expression as when he demanded the truth of why I moved to Forks.

My lips pressed together in a thin line. "What, Edward?"

"Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

In that instant, Edward's pale face tanned and the smooth skin wrinkled and sagged. His eyes shrunk and changed into a watery blue and his nose widened—he had changed into Dr. Levsky. "Why are you running away from everything, Bella?" he asked in that calm voice of his.

"I'm not running," I said defensively.

"Yes you are," he argued. "You've been running the moment the trial ended."

My subconscious self bristled. "That wasn't my fault," I spat. "And it wasn't my choice. The detectives said I had to go into witness protection, so I did. I'm not running because I want to."

"But aren't you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Would you have stayed in Phoenix if you had the choice?"

My silence answered his question for him.

"This isn't healthy, Bella," he insisted.

"So what?" I snapped.

"You need to face this. You can't keep running from everything! You left everything in Phoenix behind, and now you're running away from your pain and possible friendships! You're ruining your own life!"

"I'm not ruining my life!" I shouted. "Alan Vickers did that for me!"

But Dr. Levsky changed once more—his skin lightened and smoothed. His face thinned and his sparse, salt and pepper colored hair thickened and changed to a dark mahogany, streaked with deep shades of red. His eyes darkened too; they changed to a deep brown. These new eyes were so expressive, and so bright. Currently, they were blazing with an earnest fire.

Dr. Levsky had turned into me.

"But don't you see?" this reflection begged. "You can still pull yourself together! You can still fix this ruined life! You have all the tools—use them!"

She looked just as I had three months ago; before any of this had ever happened. She was wide-eyed and naïve; she looked at the world through rose-colored glasses and refused to believe that there were some causes that could never be helped.

"What do you know about this?" I demanded. "You don't know anything!"

"I know you," she said evenly, though her face was filled with determination. "I know you better than anyone; you can get through this!"

I finally snapped. "What if I don't want to? What if don't want to fix this?"

Her expression cooled. "Well. I never thought I'd see the day that you'd turn into a coward."

I bristled. "I'm not a coward," I whispered defiantly.

"What you mean is you didn't used to be," she corrected.

"I'm not a coward!"

"What happened to you?" she continued, as if she hadn't heard me. "You used to be brave; you used to be selfless."

"Shut up!"

"I saw you the night it began. He found you and Mom in the closet—"

"Shut up!" I screamed. I refused to remember.

"—And you held him off long enough to give her a head start! You used to be brave! You didn't run away from a threat when it came to someone you love!"

"But it didn't work!" I finally shouted. "It didn't work! No matter how hard I tried, Mom still died!"

"So what, you just decided to give up now before you even try? That's cowardice! Face it, Bella: you've turned into nothing but a spineless zombie, running from everything that makes you human!"

"SHUT UP!"

"And now you're going to let someone else you love die," she said, her fierce expression suddenly melting into a sadder one. "Come on, Bella. Don't you love me anymore?"

I narrowed my eyes at her. "How can I? You were the one that killed Mom."

She shook her head. "No I didn't."

"Yes you did! You were the one that killed her! You let her die, you didn't do anything! You just let that bastard kidnap you instead of calling the police!"

"I thought that if he took me, he'd leave Mom and Dad alone!"

"But it didn't work. And now they're both dead because of you! At least I tried! I was the one that held him off and you just let him take you!"

"I was doing what I thought was best!"

"And look where that got us." I laughed humorlessly. "Why am I even talking to you? You don't even exist. You died when Mom died."

She shook her head and her long brown hair fell around her face. "No, I didn't. I'm still with you. I'm buried deep inside of you, but you've been running away from me for so long."

"With good reason. You're nothing but an annoying, whiny spoiled brat."

Her eyes narrowed. "And you're nothing but a coward."

"I AM NOT A COWARD!"

"If you're not a coward, then fix this! Fix this mess you made!" She closed the distance between us and grabbed me by the shoulders, shaking them slightly. "Stop running! Turn back around and fix this!"

"No!" I refused. "I'm not going to fight this anymore! I'm tired of fighting!"

She let her arms drop to her sides. "So you're just going to let us die?" Tears pooled in the bottom of her brilliant brown eyes. "I'm disappointed in you. I thought you loved me."

A pair of scissors materialized in my hands. Without a second thought, I took them and stabbed them into her stomach. Her eyes, so much like mine, widened in shock as she looked down at her wound. I stared back at her, my own eyes empty. My entire body was numb and unfeeling; this creature, this beautiful, sweet creature was going to die by my hands and I didn't care.

"How could I love you?" I whispered as she slowly sank to her knees. "You were the one that ruined my life."

My eyes suddenly flew open and my dying reflection disappeared. Without stopping to dwell on my dream, I unwrapped the gauze around my arm to check on the cut; it stopped bleeding and it was already starting to scab. I made sure the cut was shallow, so it wouldn't leave a noticeable scar.

Then I got up, walked to my desk and put the scissors in the very bottom drawer. I wouldn't do this again; it caused me to have much weirder dreams. I wasn't quite sure if I liked this one better than the nightmares. Perhaps it was just because I had fallen asleep on an empty stomach. Yes, that must have been it.

The next morning, I was a little more careful on getting to school. The roads were now covered with a half inch more ice and despite the snow chains Charlie had wrapped around my tires, I didn't want to kill anyone; my truck was the kind that could easily mutilate any other car.

When I got to school, I jumped out of the truck and observed the tires carefully. I wanted to learn how to put the snow chains on by myself so Charlie wouldn't be inconvenienced again. I didn't want him to worry about me anymore than he already did.

Suddenly, I heard something squealing and wailing. People were screaming and gasping all around me, so I turned around. The sight that met my eyes froze me to my spot.

A sand-colored van was skidding across the slippery ice. The driver in the front seat had lost control of his steering wheel and was desperately trying to regain it, but it was too late. The car was already set on a perilous path, and I was in the way.

The car came closer and closer threatening to crush me against the bed of my truck. There was no time to escape.

And all I could think was, Thank God.

A/N - So to be honest, I'm really nervous about your reactions to this chapter. I'm always worried about your reactions to other chapters, but this one...this one is the one I'm afraid of the most. I really want your brutal feedback, flames and all. Please, PLEASE tell me what you guys think. I'm begging you.