I, unfortunately, was not the one to think of sparkly vampires.

Edward's hands and feet were working as one. He stepped faster and faster, pushing aside everyone in his way. He wasn't thinking about being polite or being gentle, he was thinking about getting some place where he could clear his mind and forget the brown eyed girl. He forced himself between couples and shrugged aside juniors. He pressed jocks against lockers and bumped into darkly dressed students. He heard many exclaim "hey!" in annoyance and "what's your problem?" in disbelief. He didn't care about these people and it didn't bother him being so rough with them.

His eyes weren't focusing on anything. He knew what he was searching for—an exit, a way out. He pushed and he squirmed and he forced but the student body seemed endless. He just kept moving forward, without stopping, the feel of her warm hand still lingering in his thoughts, her sweet smell still in his nostrils. He was very confused, no longer being able to tell the difference between hunger and lust, need and want. Right now he just needed some fresh air, some time to think, some time to control himself.

He brushed away body after body; he felt cheap sweater fabric and bare skin—skin that wasn't as warm or as tempting as Bella's. He brushed and brushed and brushed one more time. He lost count of how many times he had made the same movement, the palm firmly placed on the person, the elbow slightly twisting with only a small amount of force. Fabric or not, he felt the flesh every time he forced himself through. He felt the blood travel through their veins. Just brushing, his fingers accommodating to the shape of everyone's back. Brushing aside was easy. He wanted to brush everything aside. And then he did.

His fingers didn't accommodate. His palm pressed firmly and remained flat. He had to use a greater amount of force. There was no blood, no veins, no soft flesh. The door opened. He stepped outside and the wind blew roughly into his nose and into his lungs. The smell of her was swept away and he felt better. He didn't stop moving forward. He descended the steps to the huge field behind the school and started making his way through it. He got to the far end of the field and kept moving. Hard, determined steps. Steps leading him to the forest. The dark, empty forest.

He started running, keeping his thoughts on moving farther away from her. He had never felt this way. He believed he had complete control over his emotions and his reactions. Today he had proven himself wrong. It was all just a big blur of green and brown. The leaves were always covered by raindrops and the only sound Edward heard was that of the raindrops falling the trees' length to the ground. He wasn't being careful, he wasn't being attentive—he was being impulsive. His legs didn't tire, they just kept him moving. He ran as fast as he could. He didn't get far. In his reckless decision, he had run without prudence and now had just tripped on a tree branch, falling face first on the forest floor.

Edward walked into the school, the halls completely empty except for the odd student going to the bathroom or going to retrieve something from their locker. His hair was covered in leaves and twigs. His shirt was stained with dirt and so was his face. He got to his locker and switched his current t-shirt for his sweater which he zipped up, hiding his bare torso. He looked at his watch. He had 25 minutes before the last school period began. He didn't have an excuse for skipping class. He needed an excuse and he knew he had no other choice. He turned in the direction of the administrative building and started walking towards it.

She was still on his mind but he brushed her aside for a second as he searched for the words to explain why he looked like he just wrestled with a pig. He only came through here on Mondays at lunch time but it wasn't his choice. His parents thought it'd be healthy to have someone to whom he could talk. He did remember him telling Edward that he could swing by whenever he felt the need to do so. The big difference between the administrative building and the school building was the fact that it didn't really feel like part of a school. The building had paintings hanging off every wall. Soft music welcomed you into the main office. This building was 300 years old and the town of Forks spent more money restoring it than they actually spent on the school itself. Edward felt like he was in a museum rather than in a cramped office with oil lamps asking to speak with the school's resident therapist.

There was hardly anyone here besides the paper pushers. The staff room was also here, fully furnished with a fridge filled with food, a satellite TV and two computers with internet access. Much nicer than the average living room. It was obvious why the teachers spend their free periods, lunch times, and, sometimes, after school hours in this building. The principal's office was the size of a classroom and there was always two or three students waiting to be called in to see him. Besides the small staff and the rare trouble maker, no one came here. Edward seemed to be the only student that needed psychological care.

A woman was typing away at her desk, much too big and made out of wood too expensive to be used by a measly secretary. Her job was to inform the various receptionists of a person's arrival. The receptionists had a secretary. She looked up at him, nodded and looked back at the computer screen. He had been going here for a year now and he needed no announcement. Dr Roberts was never busy. Dr Roberts had one patient.

He stepped through the hallway, the portraits of all the previous principals scrutinizing their visitor. His steps were muffled by the rug on the floor, decorated with pretty patterns, sown by hand in a small country in Asia. They could afford a whole building's worth of a foreign rug but the library's newest book was donated by a school in Seattle back in 1997. They paid to frame these portraits but they couldn't place a few more pennies in the cafeteria's budget to increase the nutritious items on the grease and fat filled menu. They could afford to hire an over qualified, over paid man who had spent two decades in school and the only problems he had to deal with was how he was going to spend all the money he received. It really bothered Edward but for today, he let it go. He had something more important to worry about.

He hesitated before the door to Dr. Robert's office. He checked with himself that his story was set straight and that everything had an explanation. He knocked a little too roughly, immediately backing away from the door, as if he was afraid that anybody other than Dr. Roberts would open it with bewilderment in their eyes.

"You can go inside." Edward almost threw himself against the wall. Her voice had startled him. He had completely forgotten Dr. Roberts had a secretary. Why would he ever need one? What did she do all day? What did her job entail? She probably received a generous amount of money in comparison to the actual work she did. It must be nice to do nothing all day and not have to worry about paying the bills. It's either very nice or very miserable.

He half smiled and went right ahead and opened the door. He didn't think much of people. He was horrible with remembering appearances. He knew the secretary was female. That was it though. He couldn't tell you what eye color his brother had or whether his dad's hair was a very light shade of brown or a dark shade of blond but as he walked in, the purpose of his visit was irrelevant and now he could only see explicit images of every detail he had the chance to see of Bella.

It was a therapist's office. Much like the ones you'd see in the movies. A large, mahogany desk covered in paperwork filled with Latin terms. A black, spinning chair, perfect for him to manoeuvre across the long desk. The wall behind his chair obviously had every certificate of every academic milestone he had ever accomplished. Golden words under glass dictating that this man could read your thoughts and help you fix your mind. The middle of the room had a long couch and a small chair like every other psychiatrist's office. The wall on the other side of the room was hidden by a bookshelf filled with medical texts about why therapists could get to know you better than you could ever know yourself.

As always, Dr. Roberts was sitting at his desk, rifling through the incomprehensible Latin, pretending to look busy. "Edward!" Therapists are very good at feigning emotions. "What a surprise to see you! It's been a whole year and this is the first time you've ever come visit me out of session!"

"Yeah well, I don't feel too great..." Dr. Roberts was the only person (before meeting Bella) that he could describe in detail. A small man, barely five-four. His belly was forcing itself through his button down shirt. He probably had a suit for every day of the week. He could probably make suits made of money. Despite the huge cliché that his office was, he was clean shaven and his eyesight was pretty good. He was in his mid forties and his hair had barely begun to gray. You really had to pay attention to see the small strokes of gray hair hiding under the jet black canopy attached to his head. He could have been anybody's father, a teacher, a famous author. He just had the look of someone who was very wise. The most memorable thing about him was his eyes. They were the kind of eyes that demanded to be looked at and in return, they'd look into your soul.

"Edward!" Dr. Roberts had taken his eyes off his 'work' and given Edward a glance. "You're a mess! Come in, straight away. I have a towel you could use to clean up. Go wash your face and then tell me what happened."

Edward stared blankly at the towel at which Dr. Roberts was pointing. He started taking dazed steps toward the towel, not sure if what he was doing was correct. He lifted the towel up, his eyes on Dr. Roberts, thinking that at any moment he might snap and ask him what he thought he was doing. The worried look on his face reassured Edward before he ran into the bathroom and locked himself in.

Edward opened the door again, the white towel, now stained in crimson and dirt, in his hands. "Sir," he said, the insecurity always present in his voice, "where do I put the towel?"

"Leave it on the table next to the door." Dr. Roberts was getting out of his desk chair and was now making his way to the chair next to the long sofa. "Now Edward, what brings you here today?"

"I don't know," Edward said, eying curiously everything in the room as if he was trying to hold off Dr. Roberts's gaze for as long as possible. He sat down on the long couch, his eyes still avoiding the psychoanalyst's. "I feel strange. I met someone and I just have never felt this way before. I just have this raw, animal urge burning deep inside me and this person just awoke it."

"Who is this person, Edward?"

"Her name is Bella."

"Do you like her, Edward?"

"I'm not sure what you mean, sir."

"I mean, do you want her to be your girlfriend, Edward?"

Edward hesitated. Was he serious?, Edward thought, how many times had he repeated my name? Was it necessary? Maybe he thinks I forget my own name... "I'm not sure," Edward said, "like I said, I've never felt like this before. I think I have a, a...uh...what is it called? A crush! If I understand the concept of a crush correctly, then I think that's what I have."

"Edward," the therapist began to say, "go over to the bookshelf and write a few words in your journal and then we'll continue."

Edward nodded approvingly. He stood up and walked to the bookshelf where he found his black journal, barely used, sandwiched between another dozen similar journals, all untouched. He sat on the small chair placed next to the bookshelf and propped his journal against his leg. He conveniently always carried a pencil in his pocket which he now took out.

I am confused...I don't know how to feel...today I felt meaningful...I felt different...I met someone...her name is Isabella, though she prefers Bella...she is the only mortal I have ever felt desire for...but not only for her body, but for her taste...the smell of her blood climbed under my nose and I forgot to breathe...it is the same feeling a drug addict would get at the sight of cocaine...I want nothing more than to feast on her flesh and laugh as I do...

Those last words scared him. It made him angry that he thought this way and that those malicious thoughts plagued his mind. He wished he could make it all change. He clenched the pencil tightly and snapped it in half. A blank expression painted itself across his face and he sat down in front of his psychiatrist again.

"Edward," he started, "I can tell that this bothers you greatly. I think you should just take a breather and really reflect on your feelings." He let a few seconds of silence fill the space between his sentences. "What do you want to do, Edward?"

Will you please stop saying my name! His thoughts were getting louder and harder to ignore. What do you want to do, Edward? Are you hungry or are you horny? It's all up to you! I mean you could have both. Unless you want to turn her. Or date her. HA! Imagine you with a girlfriend!

He covered both his ears as if that would make that voice in his head shut up. "I don't know what I want."

"Are you planning to stay with me after the bell, Edward?" Dr. Roberts waited for him to shake his head before continuing. "Maybe you should try being friends with this girl, Edward. "

"Friends?"

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