A/N - Here's the original.

Summary - In December, Bella decides she can't take the pain anymore, and does the one thing she'd never thought she'd do—cut herself. Later on, Edward finds the cuts when he comes back. One-Shot, New Moon, slight AU.

Disclaimer - I own nothing of Twilight.

December

I woke up from my own screams, reliving the nightmare that plagued my dreams every night. Charlie had began to give up on me. He knew there wasn't a intruder in my room anymore. Well, beside the intruders of my unwelcome dreams.

I stood up from my bed shakily, and headed to the bathroom. I picked up my bag of toiletries and glanced at the clock on the nightstand.

3:34 AM.

Peachy.

I did not need this free time. Free time meant thinking, and thinking made me think of the things I was trying to forget.

I tiptoed across the hallway, trying to not wake Charlie with the creaky floorboards. He probably was already awake, thanks to my screaming.

Once I was in the bathroom, I flipped on the switch and threw my bag down on the counter and headed to the little stall, turning the water to the hottest setting.

I stripped off my old sweats, and waited for the shower to warm. I accidentally looked in the mirror and regretted it.

I saw my eyes, sunken into my skull. My lips looked pasty like my skin, and my face was definitely thinner, my cheeks hollow. My limbs looked bony.

I looked to the shower, seeing steam coming from the closed curtain. I stepped in and winced as the burning liquid hit my skin.

I turned the knob quickly then scurried to the corner of the shower, hiding from the water. When it became a cooler temperature, I stepped in.

I did my normal rituals, shampooing my hair and washing my body. I tried to pay attention on my movements so I wouldn't let my thoughts wander.

Once all the suds were off my body, I reached out of the shower, searching blindly for my shaving cream.

I hissed as my fingers came in contact with the blades of the razor, but after a moment, I realized this had awoken me from my numbness. Odd. I thought I was incapable of feeling anymore. Well, besides that horrible feeling inside my chest that attacked me when I merely thought of the painful memories.

I put my fingers under the spigot, washing away the blood. I watched as it swirled down the drain, and then as new blood found its way to the surface of my skin.

Without thinking, I reached for my razor again, finding the handle. I began removing the plastic from it and stared at the long rod of metal. It couldn't hurt too bad. It would be a way to feel again.

Maybe I didn't want to feel. I was already trying to numb the pain I was in.

My body seemed to want to do this, because moments later, I felt the rod pressing against the middle of my left forearm, slicing my transparent skin. I gasped at the contact.

I smiled a little as I felt the stinging pain in my arm and saw the red liquid bubble out of the thin cut, but as I reached out to do it again, I heard something that made me freeze.

"Drop the razor, Bella. You don't want to do that again."

I heard the achingly familiar voice I had been trying to forget, echoing around in my head. The hole in my chest was tugged open a bit more.

I looked around the shower. Nothing. I then poked my head out from the curtain. Nobody was there. At least not him.

I shook my head, and raised the blade again.

"Bella! Don't do this!" He cried, sounding very concerned. There went the hole again. The hand on my injured arm jerked a little, preparing to wrap around me.

Okay, what was wrong with me? Why was I being so delusional? Why was I hearing a caring, loving voice in my head?

I began slicing my skin again. I had four little cuts now, spaced about half an inch apart. The blood was now blending together and dripping onto the floor. I couldn't believe I could actually feel when I had been so numb. I finally had an outlet.

"Please!" He begged, but I ignored the beautiful hallucination.

I then switched to my right arm, making identical cut marks on it. I smiled at the pain.

I put the blade on my left arm again, wincing a little. I had cut a bit too deep. I did my right one more time, copying the left exactly, only refraining from going as deep.

"Bella! You promised! Nothing stupid!" He yelled at me, and I flinched at the musical voice.

I then realized, that he was right. And that this was very, very stupid.

And I'd broken his promise.

I dropped the blade immediately, staring in horror at what I had done. Why was I doing this? It made no sense.

I grabbed the washcloth and began dabbing my arms. The blood was making my head spin, and I put them beneath the water that was still pouring out above my head. The puddle at my feet grew red.

"Bella! How could you do that?" His voice was agonized. "Clean yourself up now. Please! It could get infected."

I nodded at the voice, wrapping the towel around me as I turned off the water and began looking for the supplies I needed. I needed to clean my stupid wounds. What had I done?

I winced as I wrapped the gauze around both arms. I had tears streaming down my face by now. What had come over me?

"Don't ever do that again," the voice said. The volume was fading into the crevices of my mind.

I didn't try to stop it. I just began to clean.

I poured bleach in the tub as it drained, and flinched as I scrubbed, feeling the protesting in my arms as the recent cuts were tugged. Once all the bloody water was out, I poured more in, trying to completely cover the smell, which was making me nauseous.

Once the smell was gone, I stepped out onto the wet floor, pulling my towel closer. I saw the bloody blade resting on the edge of the tub, and I wrapped it up in tissue paper then shoved it in the small trashcan. I then threw an old newspaper on top of it, and more tissues. I balled them up to make them look used.

After I dressed in my sweats, I walked back to bed. My arms were killing me, due to my idiotic mistake. How could I have done that? I was not…emo.

I groaned as I rolled over on my bed, sinking down at the tears rolled down my cheeks. I pulled my long sleeves down and covered the gauze.

I was a complete promise breaking idiot.

I sobbed the rest of the night, feeling the hole rip wider than ever before.

Three Days After the Confrontation With Jacob in the Epilogue

I hopped down in my bed, landing beside Edward. His arms wrapped around me. I laid my wet head on my chest and inconspicuously tugged my sleeves down, like I always did. Nobody had seen the five now-pink scars on each of my arms, and I planned to keep it that way.

He leaned over to kiss my forehead. "Hey."

I smiled. "Hello."

Slowly, he lifted me up and slid me under the covers. He left his body on top of them, but he held me against him in a snug position.

"Mmm," he said against my hair. I shivered happily as his ice cold breath blew on my wet hair.

"What?" I asked, turning my head to look at him. His eyes were closed and he had a small smile on his perfect face.

"I love the smell of your hair. Strawberries." He kissed my head again.

"Thank you." I smiled and turned to kiss him.

He kissed me back sweetly, and I smiled against his smooth lips. I loved the feeling of his lips moving against mine. As he pulled back, I slumped down onto him.

"You need to sleep," he said as he stroked my hair.

I merely mumbled incoherently against his chest.

"I love you," he whispered, full of emotion.

I smiled again as I raised my head. "I love you, too."

Slowly, I drifted into unconsciousness. I slept a dreamless calm sleep. But I was disturbed when I felt a tapping on my wrist.

"Bella," I heard Edward whisper. "Wake up, love."

I groaned against him. I pushed my hands forward in a stretch, but then I felt my sleeves riding back slightly. I stopped mid-stretch and slid my arms back, moving the sleeves of my sweats also.

"What?" I groaned as I sat up against him. I pulled the comforter over me tighter.

He moved his hand under the comforter and released my grip on it. I was confused at first. He then began to raise my arm up.

I yanked it back as realization dawned on me. "What are you doing?"

"I saw something on your arm," he whispered. He looked concerned, but also sad.

"It's probably nothing," I mumbled as I rolled over. But he caught my wrist again. Before I could try to get my arm back again. He was pushing the sleeve back.

As he stared at my arm, his eyes widened and his expression turned mortified.

Oh no.

"Bella? What are these?" He asked, his voice worried and anxious.

"They're noth—" I began, hoping to brush it off, but he cut me off.

"Those are not nothing!" His eyes widened even more. He then took my other arm gingerly and gasped as he pushed the other sleeve back.

I looked down and blushed furiously.

He was going to hate me.

"When did you get these scars?" He whispered, his voice already sad.

"In December…." I whispered, keeping my gaze on the threads of my bedding.

It was silent for a long moment, and I refused to look at him, even though I could feel his eyes burning on me.

"Bella…please…tell me you didn't…" He whispered in a agonized tone.

"I'm sorry," I said shakily.

I saw him close his eyes and shake his head in my peripheral vision. I turned to him finally, and I saw him beginning to shake slightly. "Why are you apologizing? I'm the one who drove you to it…" He trailed off and finally opened his eyes

"I didn't mean to. I accidentally cut my finger in the shower, and then I couldn't control it. I haven't done it since that one time. I got the sense knocked into me when I heard your voice." I tried to smile.

"But still…why would you do this to yourself?" He begged me, his fingers brushing against the raised skin.

I shrugged sadly. "I think I just wanted to feel something…besides the emotional pain. I think I wanted to express it physically."

He closed his eyes and leaned in to kiss my forehead. "I'm so sorry…more sorry than you'll ever be able to understand."

I leaned my head against his lips. "It's okay, you didn't know."

He pulled back and lifted my arm again. "May I?"

I nodded, unsure on what he was going to do. I felt his ice cold fingers stroking my skin. My scars. I felt naked and vulnerable as he did this.

His finger trailed down the longest and the thickest one. "Are these all of them?" he whispered in an anguished tone.

"Yes."

He still looked like he was being tortured. It reminded me of his face in Italy, when Jane had done those…things to him with her mind.

"Don't blame yourself…I did it out of my own stupidity." I whispered.

He shook his head, ignoring me. "Ten?"

I nodded, and flinched as his finger pressed against one with the slightest of pressure. "Ow," I mumbled involuntarily.

His eyes locked with mine. "I'm so sorry. And stop telling me to not blame myself. That's worthless."

I sighed. "I know."

His fingers brushed against the scars on my right arm, much softer now. "Did you get these checked out by a doctor?"

"No…too embarrassing. I was ashamed of myself, and I didn't need anybody else to be either. I didn't need a pity party either. Plus. they'd think I was suicidal—which I wasn't—and send me to some psychiatric ward."

His eyes were closed, and I could see how easily he was falling apart. I wrapped my arms around him, and I felt him shaking beneath me.

I began hearing a sniff-like noise and it took me a moment to figure it out.

Edward was crying.

I'd never seen Edward cry before, so I didn't know what to do. I hesitated before I put my hand on his face and began stroking his cheek. He leaned into my touch, but he still sobbed tearless sobs.

"Shh…it's okay. I'm fine now. And it was my mistake."

He shook his head. "It is not okay. And it was my mistake, since I left, which led to this."

His eyes opened slowly. "Bella, please promise me you'll never do that again. Promise me." He begged.

"I promise. I never thought about doing it again, anyways. Besides, I don't have a reason to anymore."

He sighed. "Thank you. If I hear of this again…I swear I'll—" He began.

I covered his perfect lips with my hand. "I'll never do it again."

He relaxed minimally and opened leaned back on the bed a little. He patted his chest, signaling me to lay down again. I complied easily, snuggling against him.

"Go back to sleep. We'll talk about this again tomorrow." His voice was still wobbly, but more under control than before. His finger moved back to my arm and he began moving his hand across the skin there, using about as much pressure as a feather.

"Okay. I love you," I whispered.

"I love you too. More than anything in the world."

I smiled as I drifted into sleeping oblivion. Right before I fell into my slumber, I think I heard Edward whisper, "I'm so sorry."