Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.
Albert Einstein, Physicist (1879 - 1955)

I was so disoriented; my memories made no sense.

Jessica was discharged yesterday and I was bored as fuck. I'd been trying to write the same sentence for the last twenty minutes. Thank God that the powers that be finally granted me a pen, because trying to write with lipstick sucked. I wondered if this meant I was getting better? Really fucking crazy people were not allowed anywhere near sharps. Apparently, it was possible to kill oneself with a pen without that much difficulty, although for the life of me I couldn't picture it. Maybe if I broke it in half so that the plastic fractured I would have had enough of an edge to saw at my wrists? Or I could have plunged the ball point into the artery in my neck. Don't misunderstand me, I wasn't suicidal, I was just working through the logic behind my lethal pen. What a romantic way for a writer to go, though. What if Hemmingway had killed himself with a pen?

I wrote the image down on paper, but now that it was released into the universe, I no longer cared for it. Would Bella Swan have had a stupid thought like that? Yeah, I'm pretty sure no. I violently scratched it out. I guessed I wasn't feeling much like Edward's Bella today.

Ahhhh, Edward.

No! I would not think about him. I'd never get better if I didn't clear my head of him. I wouldn't think of his eyes, his hands, his lips...his hard-

Oh God, and fuck, I want him!

Pounding my fists into my eyes, I rolled over in bed and tried to contemplate my journal. This was my futile attempt to document my experiences and separate the real from the crazy...which was really fucking frustrating when everyone was trying to convince me that the crazy was real.

And so fucking hot I could come just by thinking about him.

Shit! I started doodling in my journal, trying to make sense of my notes, but nothing made sense because my brain was misfiring. Whatever messages my synapses were sending as electrical impulses through my nervous system were breaking down. This information superhighway had a roadblock.

Oh, that gave me an idea!

I took out my iPhone and scanned through my contacts. So fucking weird:

Alice - Cell
Angela - home
Charlie - work
Edward - cell
Emmett - cell

Why the fuck does Bella have Emmett's number?

Jacob - home
Mom - cell

I toyed with the idea of calling Alice when my phone rang.

"Bella Swan's phone, Bella Flanagan speaking."

"Thanks for thinking of me," a pretty voice trilled like a crystal bell.

"Um, Alice?"

"Who else?"

Neat. Very cool. I had absolutely nothing to say. "So...what's new?"

"Bella." Alice pouted sternly. "I understand that you've been unwell, but that is no excuse not to call me."

"Sorry, Alice. I didn't realize I had your phone number."

"Listen to me...You have to work harder at this, Bella."

"I'm sorry? What should I be working at?" I honestly had no clue.

"At becoming Bella Swan."

The line was dead. Not like Alice had hung up, but like the call had never happened. I checked my recents screen and it was blank. I navigated back to my contacts, but that was empty, too. Wiped clean. Tabula Rasa.

I opened my Safari window and Googled "Twilight." My top result was "The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess." There was no reference to the book or movie whatsoever.

On the wall opposite my bed was a mirror, and the girl in it was looking at me; she was innocuous, but kind of pretty. She looked familiar. She could have been me; it was not entirely outside the realm of possibility.

"I am Bella Swan," I told her. Her voice was mine.

-({})-

"Dr. Cullen came to visit you recently. Any setbacks or accomplishments you feel like sharing?" Dr. Banner asked.

"I feel good, more grounded. I like the new medication."

"Excellent; I think you're showing real improvement."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, Bella. I'd like to start off by talking about Edward today, if you don't mind."

"Of course not."

"What is your relationship to him?"

"He's my boyfriend."

"How old is Edward?"

"Um..." New Moon, so if he was seventeen previously, he would've been..."Eighteen."

"How long has he been eighteen?"

"A while," I quoted, and then thought better of it. "A few months, at least."

"Do you believe he possesses any supernatural powers?"

"No."

"Are you lying to me?"

"Yes. I mean...what am I supposed to say?"

Dr. Banner sighed and looked at me with patient eyes. "You're supposed to tell me the truth."

"Ok, here's the truth. I'm not Bella Swan yet, but I'm working on it. Just give me time."

"That's a very healthy attitude."

I smiled, very pleased with my new outlook.

"I'm going to ask you a difficult question," Dr. Banner said suddenly. "I am asking Isabella Flanagan this question. I am speaking to Mrs. Flanagan, not Ms. Swan."

I'm not dumb, asshole!

"Do you remember what happened to Bella in the woods, the day Edward left her?"

"Yes. She wandered around for hours and then passed out. Sam Uley found her and took her home."

"How do you know what happened to Bella Swan? Were you there?"

"She read about it."

"She?"

"Fuck, I mean I. The pronoun game is confusing me."

"I'm speaking now to Bella Swan. I only want Bella Swan to answer me."

Um, Ok?

"Why is Isabella Flanagan being hospitalized?"

"She lost her mind; something bad happened."

"What happened?"

"I- I don't remember. She doesn't think about it."

"How do you feel about Isabella Flanagan?"

"I don't like her."

"Why not?"

"She's vulgar and mean. She's trying to seduce Edward."

"You are aware of her?"

"Yes. I remember what she did with Edward now. I don't want her in me. How do I get rid of her?"

"By remembering what happened in the woods and dealing with it. Can you do that?"

"Something happened...not to me, but to her."

"Tell me what happened, Bella."

My head snapped up sharply. "I'm sorry, Bella Swan has left the building. Stop fucking with my mind, Dr. Banner."

"I will only address Bella Swan."

"Fuck you!"

I ran out of his office screaming, flailing, trying to draw attention to myself. Mercifully, the White Coats appeared quickly.

"Give me the fucking Thorazine already, asshole."

Author's note: The hardest part about writing this chapter was finding a google entry for Twilight that had nothing to do with the book or movie. Try it.

Reviews are my brand of Thorazine.