Disclaimer- SM owns twilight and the amazing Edward. Sigh. However, this story is my sole property.
Chapter 1: Trapped in the shadow
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
By Pablo Neruda
I could hear their conversation loud and clear. Their voices reverberated in my ear and I did not bother trying to decipher the words or to block out the conversation. I knew soon enough that their voices would fade away on their own and I would be transported into a world of oblivion once again.
My gaze, as usual, was focused on the infinitesimal gap between the white tiles in the left corner of the room. I never looked around to testify my accuracy of the geography of the room; I just remembered it from some hidden part in my memory, which I was sure I would forget soon enough. There were certain things that I just remembered, without any intention or reason, while others I just forgot. My mind did not function like other people. I have been dysfunctional in this aspect all my life.
Even though I have been a resident here for the past year, I could not conjure up a clear memory of the way this room looked. Looking around in order to satiate my momentary curiosity seemed like too hectic a job. In retaliation, my brain conjured up the memory of a general mental asylum room.
White, with a bed and a desk. White sheets. White walls. And a door with a small barred window. White door. All white.
I did not bother looking around to check if the description conjured up by my memory actually matched the image of the scenario at hand – it was enough to satisfy that minute part of my mind that still functioned on normal human curiosity.
The doctors said the sympathetic division of my autonomic nervous system had shortly failed to function. Sympathetic division stimulated the body into action. If I did not know any better, I would have stated I was simply lazy. Very lazy. However, I am aware of the truth.
I studied psychology, in bits and pieces, but I had the general idea. Human behaviour intrigued me. It fascinated me. I learnt everything with the dictum 'knowledge is power'. Now I have concluded 'Oblivion is bliss'.
At times, it is comforting, almost blissful, knowing the reason I act the way I do. To understand the complex terms they use to describe my situation. To understand what they mean. To know that in a twisted sense I am sane and that being insane is normal. There is a reasonable justification of the way I act. There is a definition.
I do not have to try to escape this situation. I do not have to strive. It is okay, to an extent in terms and definition of psychology, even normal to not want to get out of this daze, to enjoy this numbness. To know that there are people who understand, even though they do not comprehend. I could harbour the blame on the shoulder of some chemical imbalances. It is not entirely my fault and nature had taken its course. I was helpless in the situation. Knowing this bought an odd sense of satisfaction. It made it easier for me to disconnect myself from the situation.
I am not strapped to the bed at night anymore. Nevertheless, I could not feel any apparent gratitude for that because I know I have not given them any apparent reason to mistrust me. Although I do feel thankful, not for the fact that I do not scream incessantly; thrash around violently at night and hyperventilate at the slightest inclination of motion around me, anymore, but for the disappearance of the cause of such actions.
This numbness is a thousand times more welcome than the engulfment of constant, irrational fear. The irrational fear that coursed through my body like venom, burning my insides, heightening my senses, causing angst beyond mortal perseverance.
Seeing nothing is better than seeing everything. This is good. This is safe. Oblivion is bliss.
Death. That would be pleasant, welcomed even. However, that would be too easy an escape. People like me did not deserve such an easy release. Tainted people like me deserved to writher in agony.
"She has been this way for a long time. No improvements doctor," The sickly nasal voice crashed with my ear. I cringed internally at the sound.
"Hmm… Yes. I have gone through her case." The deep male voice rang out. It was… velvety. Somewhere, in some lost corner of my body, a slight feeling ignited.
My body however remained as unreceptive as ever. I was well trained in this aspect. No matter what storms may be raging on the inside; my body would remain in the same rigid position. The connection between my mind and body had been annihilated. My body had a control system of its own, autonomous of the orders issued by my brain.
The person with the velvetvoice approached me. As he came near I did not cringe away, I kept motionless as always.
Go away, go away, go away…I silently chanted in my head hopping he would go away and leave me alone but, as always, my muscles remained frozen, my eyes transfixed at the same spot on the floor.
I could hear his footsteps as he came closer to me. I held my breath internally as his hand extended towards me. I knew I would not feel anything when he touched me. I was living inside a corpse. My body had long since died. It felt nothing anymore.
As his fingers gently rested on my shoulder, I was shocked to feel a completely different emotion coursing through my body, which I thought had become immune to all feeling. This was the first time in a long time that my mind and body had registered the same thing. Over time, my mind and body had become two separate entities with entirely distinct modes of control. However, now something strange occurred. Electric sparks erupted on my shoulder and travelled down from where his fingers touched. On instinct, I wanted to turn my head around and acknowledge the source. My body remained frozen, once again returning to ignoring my mind and its wishes. It was in denial. It refused to acknowledge anything,
They say 'les yeux sont les fenêtres de l'âme' (eyes are the window to the soul), but my mind had created a barrier. It had cut off all links with the later, denying access to even eyes so that my thoughts were unreadable; my soul completely contained and hidden by my body. I knew my eyes would seem glazed as usual to the outside world, even if a battle were raging inside.
"Hello Bella. I am your doctor, Dr. Edward Cullen. "
As the soft, smooth, velvet voice entered through my eardrums and registered with my mind, unexpectedly something clicked. Someone had lit a matchstick inside. My heart enclosed in ice, long since dead; suddenly beat, for the first time in a very long time.
That was the first night since my admission into the hospital that I had a nightmare. A quiet scream escaped my parted lips and I sat up breathing deeply, uttering ragged sighs. My mind was alert. My body, suddenly, aware of its presence. I looked around, a little less frantically, noticing my surroundings for the first time. Before I saw too much I quickly put my head under the pillow and dragged the white covers above my head. I pulled my head out after a second and took a long breath for fear of suffocation. I shut my eyes tightly.
No. I want to return to oblivion. I have to succumb to my numbness. The world is too dangerous for me to return. I can never go back. I do not want to. This is safe.
I felt the wetness on my cheek before I realized it. Traitor tears had escaped.
I knew what would follow and I dreaded it. Flashes of memory erupted like fireworks. My heart felt the familiar, but long forgotten tug. I tried to drive them away but they kept returning. I had forgotten the exit and now I was running frantically trying to get away. All pursuits were futile. I was lost again.
Suddenly, like the breaking dawn, a voice drove away all these thoughts. "Hello Bella... Dr Edward Cullen." the smooth velvet voice resounded in my ear. The voice was beautiful. That was my last thought before slumber seized me.
I woke up the next morning with a familiar headache. I knew where that came from. I always got a headache after I cried. It was a reminder of my crying session. A punishment for the display of my weakness. That was the only reason why I hated crying which was otherwise a relief. It used to be fun to wallow in self-pity except for that wretched headache. It ruined everything.
I kept lying in bed. Light was creeping in from the blinds on the barred window. I watched the dust particles embedded in the light which seemed like magic. They had always fascinated me. I used to reach out to them when I was younger and tried to enclose them in my hand. I stared at them for an eternity. Until, someone opened the door and entered.
It was the nurse. What she said next made all the thoughts of magic dust particles vanish.
"Time to get up. Dr. Cullen will be here to see you momentarily."
A/N: Chapters are going to get longer from now onwards. Huge thanks to ingenuity15 for fixing this up.