Sat Alone

"Let's talk a little bit about Alan today," Dr. Levsky announced the moment I took my seat.

It was my sixth session and I was by myself. I had asked Edward to stop coming with me by the third session. When he asked me why with that heart-breaking, concerned expression on his face, I explained gently that I was strong enough now to go to them on my own. And I very much needed to do the rest of this on my own. He respected my wishes and dropped me off at Dr. Levsky's apartment every Friday afternoon.

"What do you want to know?" I asked. I was far enough in it that I stopped shaking uncontrollably whenever I was in his presence.

"How did you meet him?"

I shrugged. "He was my next-door-neighbor since before I could remember. He started baby-sitting me when I was five years old."

"So you knew him very well."

"Yeah."

"Remembering those times…does it make it worse?"

I sighed. "Of course it makes it worse."

"How do you feel whenever you remember the times from before?"

There weren't really any words to describe that level, that depth of betrayal. I tried to form the sentences in my head, but it was very difficult. "Every time I think about it, I just realize more and more that it was all a lie. How would you feel if you realized that your entire childhood was nothing but a sick joke?"

"He ruined your childhood without realizing it."

I swallowed hard. "Yeah. I can't even see my parents the same way. I can't think about those happy memories anymore, not when I know what's going to happen. Not when I know how the story ends."

Dr. Levsky tapped the pen thoughtfully against his chin. "If you saw him now, what would you say?"

The question threw me off guard a little bit. "Excuse me?"

"Pretend I'm Alan Vickers," he encouraged. "If I were Alan Vickers, what would you say to me?"

What would I say to him? What was there to say? And furthermore, how could I say it? I couldn't ever give justice to the endless pain I had suffered these long months, or the self-hatred that I still struggled with everyday. There was no way I could put into words the way he broke me, as if I were made of glass.

But I owed it to myself to try.

"Was this what you wanted, Alan?" My voice didn't sound like my own. It was smooth with a slight tremor hidden in the ice of my words. Dr. Levsky ceased to exist in front of me; his watery eyes darkened and his wrinkled visage smoothed and pulled tightly over his bone structure. Alan sat in front of me, staring at me with that sinister smirk, that complacent smile that was forever etched in the back of my brain. My lungs constricted, but I pushed through it.

"Was this what you were going for the whole time? Were you trying to tear me apart? Because if you were, then you definitely got what you wanted. I'm broken. You left me alone, bleeding and dead. I can't look at anyone without trying to read their minds, without trying to find their hidden motives. I can't trust anyone anymore. I can't laugh, I can't smile…I can't even breathe. You shadow me everywhere I go. I can't escape you."

I didn't realize that I had started shaking and I didn't notice the wetness that slowly trailed down my cheeks, but I had given up. I didn't care anymore if someone saw me weak. It was a relief to finally let go of my control. The small quaking in my voice started to grow, but I kept going.

"You never were my friend, were you? You never loved me…if you did, you wouldn't have tried to break me. But here I am, shattered and barely breathing. You used to be my best friend. You were the greatest mentor I ever had.

"But all of that, I can forgive. I can forgive you for tearing me apart. I can forgive you for ruining me. But what I can't forgive was what you did to my parents." My jaw clenched and my limbs began to shake. I squeezed my hands into tight fists in my lap as I let go of the rage that had been building up inside of me. "You murdered them. You had no right, no right whatsoever to do what you did to my mother. You can hurt me all you want, but what you did to Mom is unforgivable. I can never, ever let that go. If it were in my power right now, I would take that damn poison and inject you myself.

"No matter how hard I try, I can't forget what you did to me. But I will always remember what you did to my parents, and that is something that I will hold onto forever. And the next time I see you, I'll make sure that you remember too."

When I had finished my speech, Alan's taunting expression slowly melted back into Dr. Levsky soft face. The room was completely silent and I breathed in deeply through my nose to calm the tremors in my limbs.

"That was very good, Bella," Dr. Levsky said encouragingly. "However, I do have a question. Why do you refuse to forget what he did to your parents while you try so hard to push away what he did to you?"

There were a million explanations as to why I wanted to forget what happened to me. But I never wanted to forget what he did to Mom for much simpler reasons. "Mothers and daughters have bonds that can't be easily broken. It's a very basic need, to protect these bonds as much as possible, despite their strength. But when they are broken, they leave behind empty holes, huge gaping chasms that can never be refilled. Mine's inside my chest, where my heart is—probably where my heart once was. Alan Vickers broke that bond. If my mother were alive, there would be a hole inside of her too. In fact, I'm sure she has one right now, even in the afterlife; it's that strong. And the only thing more resilient than this bond is the need for revenge against whatever broke it in the first place."

"So you want revenge against Alan?"

I shook my head. "I don't want it. I need it."

Dr. Levsky didn't say anything for a long time. He just sat in his usual chair and thought about what I said very carefully.

When he finally spoke up again, he didn't continue the line of conversation. Instead, he talked about something completely different. "Bella, Julia Andrews called me this morning. She said that Alan Vickers trial begins next week."

My heart started pounding furiously. So soon.

"She called me to ask if I think you're ready to take the stand."

He didn't say anything for a loaded moment and I started to fidget. "Well?" I asked when I couldn't stand my impatience any longer. "Do you?"

"I don't think it's really my opinion that matters," he said. "I think what matters is whether or not you think you're ready."

Did I think I was ready? I wasn't sure. It was one thing to talk about what happened with Dr. Levsky, when I was sitting on his couch and he was gently encouraging me to open up. It was another thing entirely to be sitting in a severe wooden chair, being forced to answer question after question of events that I still tried to block from my memory.

"I don't know," I said hesitantly.

"You should think about it," he said. "But to tell you the truth, Bella, I think you've been ready for quite a while. You just need to believe that you are."

Minutes later, I was walking out of Dr. Levsky's apartment and Edward was leaning against his dark blue car, his expression intensely anxious.

"How are you?" he asked the moment I stepped to his side. He asked this same question every time I finished a session with Dr. Levsky. Every week my answer would be different, but truthful. However, today I wasn't quite sure of my reply.

"Alan Vickers' trial starts next week," I informed him as he held the door for me. "Mrs. Andrews wants to know if I'm ready to testify."

"Are you?" he asked as he slid into his own seat.

"I don't know. Dr. Levsky thinks I am, but I'm…I'm not so sure."

Edward pursed his lips as he turned the ignition and backed out of the parking lot. He was on the highway before he replied. "For what it's worth, Bella, I agree with Dr. Levsky. I think you're ready."

Was I? I didn't feel ready. I didn't feel that much different than before I met Edward; maybe I was a little bit lighter. Maybe I was little bit fuller, and maybe that hole wasn't as big as it used to be. But it was still there, and no matter what I did, I couldn't get rid of it.

There was really only way to see if I was ready or not. It would be the ultimate test.

Edward and I went through the usual Friday evening routine: homework, dinner, then up to my room to just hang out.

But as the sky gradually dimmed outside, I could feel it building up within me. I could feel the final test looming ever closer, waiting for me to pass or fail. And failing was not an option.

The time came too quickly. Eventually Edward looked up at me expectantly, waiting for me to get ready for bed. So I did, but with great trepidation; my hands shook as I squeezed my toothpaste and I jumped at every little surprising sound. I had to constantly remind myself that there was no one and nothing there that could hurt me, but my nerves were so frazzled and I was so on edge emotionally that I couldn't fully convince myself of this fact.

When I was finally finished, I walked back into my room. Edward was standing in front of the door, waiting for me patiently like he did every night, but with a look of great concern on his angelic face.

"Bella?" he whispered. "Bella, are you okay?"

I shook my head and my lips trembled. I tried to still those chattering nerves, but I could only exercise control of one reaction at a time, and restraining my tears was the priority at that point. "Edward, I need your help."

In less than a second he was at my side, stroking my face and holding me tightly to him. "What do you need?"

I clung to the fabric on his sleeves. "Don't let me go, okay?" The plea was a whisper of desperation, but it was the most distressed request I had ever made of him.

"Never," he said in reply.

After several minutes of terrified trembling, I slowly concentrated our bodily contact to just one hand and made toward the bed. It sat innocently enough, hospital corners still intact and dusty from disuse. With the hand that wasn't clutching Edward's, I reached down and pulled the quilt back. My breathing was shallow and my heart was pounding so fast and so hard, it felt more like a continuous thrum, like a hummingbird.

When the covers were pulled back enough for me to slip underneath them, I very, very slowly lowered myself down onto the sheets and Edward followed closely behind.

For a couple of minutes, I lay completely still and stiff as a board as the memories bombarded me, one after the other. I had been prepared for it, but it still didn't make the tears stop. Soon the shaking turned into inconsolable crying and I wept quietly as I relived every second of my torture. The cold hand around mine was not enough to shield me from these terrors; it seemed as if nothing was.

Eventually, Edward rolled over and wrapped me in his cold embrace, and I welcomed the contact gladly. I buried my head in his chest and wept into his sweater, probably ruining the fabric with my viscous fluids, but I couldn't bring myself to care.

After a half hour of this terrified weeping, Edward started to hum my lullaby and this eased my fits to random jerking movements. My tears gradually receded enough that I could close my eyes for a long enough amount of time to actually fall asleep.

I knew it was a dream. I was usually able to tell if something was a dream, but this didn't prevent the terror. The cold hand that had tethered me to reality for so long was suddenly gone, and I grasped at nothing for countless minutes, completely terrified of being let alone in an unfamiliar setting that was bound to scar me.

Suddenly, the vision of myself that I had seen several times before appeared beside me. She was smiling widely, and offering her hand to me. I took the proffered hand without a second thought and she squeezed it tightly.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

"Not at all," I whispered in reply.

"Yes, you are," she said encouragingly. "I believe in you."

Suddenly, Edward appeared on my other smile with that same reassuring smile. His eyes were twinkling happily, the same way they did when we finally declared our love for one another. "I'm here with you," he murmured in that beautiful, musical voice of his.

Both hands squeezed mine in a show of solidarity. I breathed in deeply and felt their confidence well up inside me. Bravely, I walked forward, never letting their hands go for a moment.

The dreamscape changed and I was sitting on a severe wooden chair, facing a jury and Mrs. Andrews. She tried to keep my attention on her, but my glance kept fearfully reverting to the complacent visage sitting at the table behind her.

"Bella, where were you the night your parents died?"

I swallowed hard. My hands were fidgeting in my lap, refusing to lie still, so I turned my gaze downward. "I was in Mr. Vickers' home," I whispered.

"Were you witness to their murder?"

"Yes."

"What happened?"

I swallowed hard. "Alan brought them into the…room…I was staying in. He thought I was asleep, but I saw the whole thing.

"Both of them were unconscious. He started beating my dad up first…he kicked him in the stomach, punched him in the face. Dad…he started to wake up a little. He struggled, but he was too weak. Then Alan took…he took the knife and he stabbed it into his stomach. He stabbed it over and over again."

My throat stuck and I couldn't breathe. I had to stop speaking for a moment so I could regain enough composure to keep going.

"Bella?" Mrs. Andrews gently goaded. "What about your mother?"

The trembling grew. My eyes welled up with tears and I desperately tried to wipe them away before anyone could notice.

"He…he beat her up too. But he—he took her clothes off first. And he…he had sex with her while she was unconscious before he killed her."

"So he raped her," Mrs. Andrews clarified mildly.

I flinched at the term. "Yes."

"Thank you, Bella. No further questions, your honor." Then she strode back to her table.

Alan's lawyer stood up and buttoned his jacket closed as he approached me on the stand. "Ms. Dwyer…you say you were in the room when you witnessed the murder."

"Yes."

"You were in Mr. Vickers' home?"

"Yes."

He frowned theatrically for the jury. "Why were you in Mr. Vickers' home in the first place?"

My heart sputtered and stopped. Mrs. Andrews leapt up from her seat. "Objection, your honor, relevance?"

"I'm merely trying to establish Ms. Dwyer's credibility," Mr. Townsend replied.

The judge deliberated briefly. "I'll allow it."

"Why were you in Mr. Vickers' home?"

My heartbeat kicked in again, but at full speed. I couldn't tell them—I couldn't tell the jury what had happened. Not to mention, Mrs. Andrews warned me that they would declare an automatic mistrial.

"I…I…"

"Since Ms. Dwyer has difficulty understanding the question, I will rephrase." Mr. Townsend smirked as he came closer to the witness stand. I edged away, but I was fenced in and unable to move. "What caused you to be in that room in Mr. Vickers' home?"

I was defeated. I was pushed against a corner and he knew it. He was reveling in my defeat and his obvious victory.

I should have known that there was no way I could win. This should have been obvious from the very beginning. I had no chance. Alan would always win.

Mr. Townsend smirked with satisfaction. "No further questions, your honor."

The judge turned to me and nodded coldly. "Ms. Dwyer, you may step down."

The moment I stepped off the witness stand, my knees buckled underneath me. The bailiff was there to catch me, but I jerked away from his touched and clumsily stumbled out of the courtroom. Whispers followed me as I left, but I didn't care. The urge to go curl up in a corner and never leave was strong within me, but Detective Manning managed to grab me before I got very far away.

"Bella—"

"Let me go," I muttered unimpressively.

"Bella, you can't leave. There's still a chance."

"There is no chance," I said dully. "Weren't you there just now? He backed me into a corner. He had me trapped and he knew it." I shook my head. "I never should have taken the stand to begin with. That was such a mistake."

"No, honey," she whispered. "That was not a mistake."

"He's going to get off, isn't he?"

Detective Manning didn't answer.

"Isn't he?" I pressed.

She sighed. "It…it doesn't look good," she finally answered.

I closed my eyes. Mom, I thought to myself with despair, I'm so sorry.

Moments later the scene dissolved. I was in that horrid bed, chained to the bedposts, bleeding and broken. It was a scene I had relived countless times, but it never failed to tear me apart with its intensity.

"Bella," the voice whispered—but this time, the voice was embodied. The face that starred in my nightmares, that haunted my thoughts loomed much too close, threatening to steal another kiss.

"Please," I whimpered. "Please, just kill me."

"I could never kill you," he murmured tenderly. I shuddered and shied away from the approach of his lips. "I love you so much."

"Bella," a different voice called. "Bella, I love you." It echoed in my mind as if it were far away. But the voice was so familiar that it felt closer. My heart called back and a sense of strength returned to my muscles.

Alan's hands began to roam over my body, but I jerked away. "Get away!" I yelled. "Get away from me!"

A sharp blow landed across my face. "Don't talk back!" he shouted.

Fury welled deep within me and I let it go. He could no longer touch me in this dream world. This was my safe haven, and I refused to let him invade this intangible universe.

"NO!" I screamed. All of a sudden, the chains were gone and my wounds were gone. I flew off the bed and lunged at him, throwing my fists into ever bit of him I could. "Get away from me! You aren't real!"

"Yes, I am," he whispered in my ear, despite my flailing punches. "I'm right here, right now. I'm always with you, and I will never leave you. You are mine."

"NO, I AM NOT!" With every bit of strength I possessed, I planted my palms into his chest and threw him off of me. "I do not belong to you! I WILL NEVER BELONG TO YOU!"

"Yes, you will!" he screamed back. "I have made you mine!"

Abruptly, a cold hand wrapped around mine. I looked up to my side and I saw Edward's eyes on fire, reflecting the same passion I felt within myself. He nodded encouragingly and squeezed my hand for extra support.

It was time for this nightmare to end.

"Goodbye, Alan." And with the pair of scissors that materialized in my hand, I stabbed them into his stomach.

"Bella?"

My fitful nightmare slowly began to melt away. When I opened my eyes, I realized that I was in Edward's arms and he was holding me tightly despite how fitfully I was fighting against his embrace.

"Bella, are you all right?" he asked anxiously.

"Edward," I whispered. When I remembered where I was, I buried my tear-stained face into his sweater once more. "Edward, thank you. Thank you so much."

"What for?" he asked bewilderedly. "I haven't done anything. Bella, what's going on? Are you okay? What happened?"

"You've done everything," I countered. "You've given me everything. You've given me the strength to overcome this. I will overcome this."

He lowered his face and buried his nose into my hair. "That strength was there the whole time, Bella. You were strong enough the whole time."

Now was not the time to disagree. I was too grateful; I finally found the part inside of me that could deal with this. And I could.

Not once did he let go—not even in my sleep. He held on tightly, and my grip was just as strong.

"I'm ready," I murmured. "I'm ready for this."

"I know you are."

A shred of remaining terror flared up within me. "You'll be there, won't you? You won't leave me by myself, right?"

His embrace tightened. "I would never," he murmured. "I made a promise, Bella. I made a promise to you and to myself that I would see you through this until the very end. You're so close, and I won't rest until you're finally free."

I rejoiced at his words, the fire within me gaining strength with every word he spoke.

"We'll all be there with you," he continued. "Carlisle, Jasper, Emmett, Alice, Esme, and Rosalie. We'll all come with you."

The support was staggering. Even in my past life, I never had this level of commitment. It was so much more than I deserved that I started crying again.

"Love?" he whispered, alarmed. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he answered. "I mean…I…I…"

"Yes?" he gently goaded.

"I didn't think that something like this was possible," I murmured. "You, your family, Dr. Levsky, the detectives…I didn't think that I could do this."

"They love you, too," he reminded me. "It's only natural that they would want to be there."

It was staggering. It was all completely mind-blowing. But in the midst of all this revelation, something became completely obvious.

We're all meant to lead whole lives. We were all meant for so much more than what we've been given. What separates us all is whether or not we take the opportunity to make ourselves whole, despite the obstacles designed to break us once more. And I was tired of settling for my broken pieces. It was now time for me to accept the life I was meant to live.

A/N - Wow, I realize that this chapter is so long overdue, it's not even funny. I'm so sorry about the long wait in updatage, but school...well, ya'll know how it is.

And despite the really long time, things haven't changed. Check out the blog and don't forget to review!