Author's Note: BIG FUCKING NEWS. BBS Won the Indie! I don't know how to thank you crazy bitches enough for voting. This cold-hearted bitch actually cried when I got the email. AND AS IF THAT WASN'T ENOUGH, feathersmmmm, the author of the fanfic cult classic, Edward Wallbanger just rec'd BBS on her latest chapter update. It took me a good couple of hours to figure out why I suddenly had four-hundred ff notifications. Yeah, I'm not exaggerating. That girl needs to organize a religion or something, she is so loved. Thanks Alice! Anyhoo...

"So, do you think we could get some privacy?" I asked nervously. Already, I was pretty certain how far I was willing to go with this charade. Anything. I would do absolutely anything to get my life back. With fumbling fingers, I slowly undid the buttons of my shirt. Gregory didn't even seem to notice until I got to the last button.

"I don't think so," he said and pushed me off of him. "Let me know when you manage to get my wife back in that body. Until then, just, no."

"It's me," I said meekly.

"What are our kids' names?" His eyes held mine with a desperate rage that was unlike the man I had gotten to know over the past couple of days.

"Um...kids?"

He glared at me. "Look, Izzy. I get it. You have post-traumatic stress syndrome. What happened to you was terrible, I know, baby. But suck it the fuck up. Your kids need you."

"I'm not Izzy," I admitted. "I'm Bella Swan."

"Yeah, well I'm fucking Zaphod Beeblebrox then." I cringed, wondering if he was going to hit me and also, what Zaffod-whatever-he-said-brox was. The pain that registered in his blue eyes when he noticed my flinching was ugly. "I'm not going to fucking hit you."

I nodded. "I don't know what to say. The truth is, I don't have any way of knowing that. Your wife is a psychotic bitch. I have to wonder about what kind of man would be married to a person like that."

"She's not a psycho bitch." His voice broke. Placing his hands on either side of my head, he looked into my eyes as if he was searching for something that was not there. "You don't see yourself very clearly."

"I think I've been told that before."

-({})-

Carlisle was a salad tosser.

My back arched as if I'd been electrocuted. "Fuck you, fucking cock-smoking, piece of shit good, good for fucking nothing," I screamed. "Give it to me. I need it!" The crappy iron bed pounded against the bed frame, lifting me with it, Linda Blair style. What an excellent day for an exorcism. A strange thought since currently, a vampire was trying to exorcize my demons. Digging my nails into my skin, I raked the flesh of my arm until it bled. The itching wouldn't fucking stop but I would tear myself out of my skin to get the bugs to stop crawling all over me.

"You think you can light a fire under my skin and smoke me out of her body?" I keened, watching blood dot my arms.

"If you created me, Bella, why not make me do what you want?" Carlisle's voice was clinical and I wanted to hurl pea soup at him, but the thought of eating pea soup made me want to vomit. Yeah, it was circular logic.

"Can't."

"Why not?"

That's much too vulgar a display of powers.

"I'll let Bella Swan come back for just a little Codeine."

"No, Isabella." Carlisle caught both my fists easily with his hand. "I don't want to strap you to the bed. You're stronger than this. It's only been a few days." He tried to rub my hands in a gesture of comfort but I continued to buck at him.

"I need it," I sobbed. "Please? I'll give you anything, just, please!"

"Dr. Cullen?" a needle brandishing White Coat slithered into my room and inquired. Her skin was shiny and peeling and her eye shadow was green. Fucking serpent. The devil incarnate. "Do you need some help?"

"Fucking yes!" I screamed, salivating for whatever that needle had to offer.

"Nurse Cope, if I needed help, I clearly would have asked for it. Please get out."

Her eyes seemed to retract and her tongue tasted the air. Yeah, I was pretty far gone. I needed some drugs before my serotonin starved brain imploded. Hallucinations should not take place within the context of a hallucination.

"It hurts," I sobbed. "Just a little Benadryl for the itching. Please?"

"No. The medications are just convoluting your thoughts. This seems cruel, I know, Bella, but-"

"Edward. Get me Edward." Who the fuck said that?

-({})-

Was I dreaming? I awoke in another room entirely with Breaking Dawn opened on my chest. Yeah, I must be having a nightmare. Although, the burning and itching has mercifully stopped. Which could only mean one thing: I was no longer in fucking Oz.

I examined my arm. No scratches at all, just big purple and yellow bruises.

Light poured into my eyes as the curtain around my bed was pulled back swiftly. My lids snapped shut. "Shit and ow!"

"Hello, Bella. Did you sleep well?" a nurse inquired pleasantly.

"Dude, I'm not even sure. Where am I?" She wrapped a blood pressure monitor around my tender bicep, and I yelped. "Fucking ow!"

"Well, what happened to our placid patient?"

Fucking Swan. She was a bigger pansy-ass than Cullen. "I'm feeling a little agitated. Could I get some Ativan?"

The nurse frowned at me. "Not after your little suicide attempt."

"What the fuck are you talking about? I never tried to kill myself. Where's Jake?"

The nurse grabbed my book. "Um, give him about thirty or so pages. Bella's going to vomit some fried chicken soon and then realize she's preggers. Jake narrates book two."

Oh, yeah. Wrong universe. "Where's Gregory?"

"Your husband?"

"No, Gregory fucking House, MD. Yes, my husband." Wait, could I wish myself into that universe? Did I have that kind of power? Shit, I could totally go for a little Hugh Laurie and some Vicodin right about now.

"Visiting hours start at 10:00 a.m."

"Has he been here often?" I asked in a small voice. Shit, I really was trying not to think about him at all, but I was so achingly close to him right now, I couldn't help it.

"Every day."

"What about my... Was anyone with him?" She lifted the hem of my t-shirt and started fussing with the bandages on my stomach. Who was I asking for, exactly? Did I dare speak their names?

"No," she said dully and pulled tape off my skin. "I'm just changing the dressing. Has there been any leakage?"

"I don't know," I muttered. "What kind of cut is it?"

"The lacerations are pretty deep but the plastic surgeon did a really good job and you'll heal nicely."

"Thanks. I mean, is it like...claws or bites or...claws? What caused the cut?"

She looked at me like I had some sort of mental illness. Which I likely did. "A knife," she said and finished taping me up. "Do you want me call your doctor?"

"No." I turned away from her and faced the window. Geese flew in a V formation, but I couldn't remember if they were coming or going.

-({})-

"Edward," I moaned. It was my first conscious thought. His name passed my lips before I even realized I was speaking. A deep ache wracked my body, making it difficult to draw air into my lungs.

Again I was broken. Over and over again. He stitched up my heart, only to rip it from my body again. The anguish was palpable.

Oh, but the pain was also real.

My joints hurt in a way that was completely foreign to me, like my extremities were cold, but every inch of my body was coated in sweat. Pain shot through my muscles too, causing me to seize up and contort into terrible angles. Swallowing a sob, I rolled onto my stomach.

"Edward," I blubbered again. Flanagan would call me weak. I didn't care at all. I was weak.

"I'm sorry, Bella."

The voice came from under my bed.

Author's Note: Thanks to jkane180 (my beta) and wordslinger for keeping me insane. Read their work, it rocks. New BBS banner by worslinger posted on my profile. New readers, please follow me on twitter for updates and for the love of all that's unholy, leave a fucking review :) Reviewers get previews. I apologize to the late reviewers who didn't get one this time.