A/N: HEY! How's it been? I've been going over this chapter a thousand times to see if it was just clear to perfection.

Anyways, I hope you like it.

Disclaimer:

Edward: *winks at me*I have a message from Stephenie Meyer.

Me: *looks uneasy and looks away* Shoot!

Edward: She told me to tell you that, you don't own Twilight and unfortunately, you don't own Edward.

Me: THAT EVIL MOTHER FU- BEEP BEEEP BEEEEEP! *mumbles more unintelligible swear words under her breath*

Edward: Don't worry though, because she said you could borrow it for a while. *smiles a crooked grin*

Anyways, have a read. Hope you like it! Read and REVIEW please. *does puppy dog eyes*

I was alone
I was tired but now I'm bound
My head is off the ground
For a long time I was so weary
Tired of the sound,I've heard before
Knowing of the nights I'm out the door
Haunted by the things I've made
Stuck between the burning light and the dusty shade

I was broken by Robert Pattinson

I WAS BROKEN

18 November 2003

"Do you want me to make you pancakes with hot chocolate?" he said avoiding my question. It was hard for him to explain complex situations. This one was one of them but it was his responsibility as a father to do so. I placed my hand on top of his. His guard crumbled down and he started to speak.

"Last night. Edwards adopted parents were invited to a dinner party. Edward declined the offer to go with them and said that he would...um...call you and hang out with you." he said. He stared and watched my face while he spoke, analysing my expression. But I kept a straight face. I locked all my emotions in a safe keep, and hid it at the bottom of my heart. My emotions make me weak, instead of making me stronger. If I ever showed him that I couldn't bare to listen he wouldn't tell me, nor would he allow others to as well.

"Yes. He did call. He said he was alone, tired and hungry. He asked me if I would come but I said it was better if I should leave him to rest." I explained, keeping my voice calm and emotionless. But they came out as I doubted what I was saying. My father nodded and continued.

"They found out that the electricity was probably out when he was inside. And when they found candles around the house, they presumed that after the electricity went out, he placed candles around the house. The detective explained that...the way he was positioned on the couch suggested that he must have fell asleep when the fire started. They found burnt curtain fabrics. When the fire started, the toxic gas must have made him unconscious, which disabled for him to escape." my father explained in a soft voice but professional tone. It was like he was explaining an important subject to me when I was younger. It was when my dog, Panda, died. I remembered that I was devastated but got over it soon. But we both knew this was different. I was young then but I am older now. Guilt ran over me suddenly. I felt my heart being cupped and squeezed. I heard Edward's screams in my ears, while he was burning and I was here sleeping soundlessly. I felt like I was the one that killed him. The fire was actually the hero. Me abandoning him was the death penalty. He just simply wanted me to come over. But I lied, and said it was better off without me. I felt selfish. One small favor from a friend, who always agreed to my small wishes whenever I asked, felt like a huge wish, to me hours ago. I was tired and I felt weak. Once he asked me how a friend could a bad one? And if he was here, alive, I would point it at myself. "I am a bad friend.", I would say. But its too late. Its too late for apologies. Too late to bring the one you love, and much to late to tell them you appreciate them being in your life. I suddenly wondered what he might have been thinking, before he died? Would he be thinking how much he hated me? How much he wished I was there? Or nothing about me, but someone else. I didn't know.

"He died, and its all my fault. I should have went. I should have been there, supporting him, granting him everything he wanted. I should have been a good friend. I could have saved him. I could have..." I trailed off. I whispered, like I was saying these to myself. Tears stung my eyes, but I fought them away. My emotions were escaping from the safe keep, one by one, like bubbles of oxygen when you drown.

"There was no way you could have anticipated this, Bella. Don't blame yourself!" my father pleaded but I didn't believe him. His soft and concerned expression made everything worse. He reminded me of how he looked at me when he was telling me that my mom died.

"He was always there for me. He always came when I asked. Whenever I needed him, he would pull me into his warm and strong embrace. Hold me,protect me." I told my father but it was more of a reminder for myself. A reminder of what I would miss. What I could never feel again. I closed my eyes.

"Don't say such a thing. You were always there for him too. You were the person who healed him, after his broken heart, his past. You helped him live Bella. As much as he helped you, you were his life source too." my father sent out unnecessary arguments. No matter how much he made a strong point, I was the guilty one. I was the one that should have been given the death penalty. Not, him. Not my broken angel.

"I can hear him screaming for help,Dad! I heard the desperation, the plea in his voice when he asked me to come. But I cant hear his heart beat! Why?" I imagined his screams for plea, his pained eyes, those green emerald eyes, projecting fire. Him trapped, all alone. Dying. Slowly and painfully.

"Bella! Stop tortuering yourself. This was not yours or any ones fault. It is done and it cannot be un-done!"my father screamed. His face went red and he could no longer control himself. He saw this act as torture, but to me it was only the truth. It was something I had to accept to live with. An act of selfishness made him die. My act of selfishness. But I still couldn't cope around the fact that he died. He was so innocent and kind, he was like an angel. He guided me through my bad habits. The habits that made me sneak to the corner of my room, and cry. The habits of running away from home when things got tough and coming back late without giving any explanation. The habits to not to love anyone or anything. He helped me to have faith and hope. But now they were crawling back to my heart one by one. And I had no one to save me now. But it was still hard to believe that Edward died. It seemed like an impossible idea. A cruel and pointless fact.

"He wouldn't leave me. He wouldn't leave me all agitated, upset, he just wouldn't leave me alone. They must be mistaking. They're lying." I said trying to keep my voice calm. But he heard the desperation and the belief in my voice that he calmed down. He understood that I was no longer young. Nor, was I an adult either. But when you start seeing the real world, different to how you thought when you were a kid, you criticise anything and everything. Because you understand that the world is fake and full of lies. My father thought it would be the same as the same way I coped with my mother death. But with her, I was gradually told she died. I slowly saw her dying, even if it was painful, it made me get strong enough to face it when it came. But now, it was like a slap on the face. Quick and painful. It stung.

"They found his body, Bella. It's 80% burns and his unrecognisable."

"NO!" I argued back. I wouldn't believe in such a thing even though I always thought that science could prove anything and everything. But this was not one of them. It shouldn't be. It simply couldn't. "He's my Edward. He won't leave me. He just wouldn't. I need him and he needs me. I'm telling you he will walk through our front door tomorrow all will fine. He would look at me and laugh when I would tell him that people thought he ...he...died." I explained to my father. I told him the fantasy that I wished would come true. I wished desperately that this was a dream, that felt like reality. I tried to sound controlled but I failed. My voice sounded defeated, and shaky instead.

"Bella-" my father protested, but before he continued I cut him off.

"He's a smart boy. He wouldn't wouldn't fall asleep while the candles were on. He is too precautions. He always reminded for me to be careful with fire. As he works in the hospital he see's things I don't and he told me that people usually died or got seriously injured because of candles." I spoke in a dazed voice. It was like I wasn't here, or alive. It was like I was in a house full of darkness and I was talking to myself. I got up and started walking over to the bookshelf. I looked at the photos of me and Edward, in the swing at the park, his hands around my waist and my delicate hands around his neck. His emerald eyes glistering with happiness but mine looked at him in amazement. I never got over the fact that his now-woken-up-hair and his handsome reminded me of the Greek God Adonis. His handsome face perfectly structured features, green eyes, his bronze-copper tousled hair, that I loved so much and messed it up all the time, was a frozen memory on the frame. His crooked smile that always took my breath away was always natural and made girls chase him around. That charming and the most brilliant smile, that I had ever seen. I always teased him that his smile dazzled people, but he never took it serious and would simply say, 'Do I dazzle you?'

"Edward Cullen. My, Edward." I spoke as I ran my finger tips over his face, his cheeks. "He is so polite, handsome, modest, passionate. He wants to be a doctor, you know? His favourite colour is chocolate brown, just because of my eye colour. He likes to read and spend time with me."I spoke as if I was inside Willy Wonka's, chocolate factory. I was amazed, and looked at the picture in amazement and loss. In envy. My voice sounded like someone who lost their insanity. I knew I was loosing mine, but I didn't think it would be this quick.

"Bella!" my father shouted to me across the room. I suddenly felt angry at him for no understanding me or yet respect my opinion. What I believed might be insane, but I knew he was at this point somewhere in his life time. Just as I was wishing for the impossible I knew he had once too. My father words brought me back, but not him calling my name. It was more of the tone he used. He sounded like he was confused as he also lost patience. So did I, because I placed the photo on the shelf and snapped at my father. I shouted from the top of my lungs.

Anyways watc'ha think?

Do you like it? hate it?

Edward interrupts rudely, AGAIN! :Why don't they review or send a pm to you, sweetie?

Me: *rolls her eyes and snorts* I was just getting there, you amazingly hot but stupid Volvo owner!

REVIEW IF YOU LOVE EDWARD!