Bella's POV

When I read back on those last statements, it seems far too easy, far too unreal. In reality there were months of suffering, days when I tortured myself for not being that little bit braver, that little bit closer to perfection. I'll try to explain what it was like, not that you'll ever really understand what it was like.

I spent nigh on a whole year waiting for something, anything to wake me up, I think in a way I enjoyed my own suffering- like the sadistic bitch so many have called me, if I couldn't have Edward I could still live though pain. Cutting seemed like the only release I could find. Feeling the sharp bite of metal rip into my skin, provided a moment- just a moment, but it was enough- of freedom. It was like it connected me to a power so beyond any of my limitations and fears. Like nothing else mattered.

The worst thing was knowing Edward felt it too. Before I'd been alone in my suffering, floating above the population of forks. I don't think I could bear to acknowledge that any one else could feel the way I felt. It took me a while to get over myself and realise why I was so drawn to Edward, but when I did the idea horrified me- I had singled out the one person who could possibly cause myself more suffering.

I deserved to be punished, still do really, but that's not for me to decide. There's something you should know, something that happened a long time ago. Something I can't tell you.

But anyway back to the story, I was kissing Edward passionately I might add, before he pulled away, leaving the taste of his breath on my tongue. He looked at me, his eyes burning with ire his eyes pools of emerald desperation, his lips slivers of cherry distaste, and his perfect skin flushed with hatred. "What have you done to me?" He spat venom at me.

"You monster" he said before running off, leaving me alone in the clearing, with only the imprint of his touch, burning every inch of my skin. So I did what I do best, I shut it all out, pushed it so far to the back of my mind I was walking on Edward and all the problems he'd caused me with every step I took.

The only problem with pushing your feelings down though, is that they have a nasty habit of coming back to haunt you, like a stone pressing into your foot every time you walk. Sometimes you forget but it never goes away.

That night I dreamt of him. I was walking down a hallway I had walked down so many times before in my dreams, my breaths ragged in my chest as my heart pounded in my ears. There was a door at the end of the hall, towering and dark- it seemed to pulse with some sort of overwhelming evil, but it called to me all the same.

My dream self knew what was coming, I'd walk though that door like a lamb to slaughter, knowing what would happen inside that room, because it was always the same. Knowing what was going to happen didn't stop me, just like it didn't stop the real me from pulling away from Edward before he had the chance.

I was a hairs breadth away from the door now, but I heard a voice calling from behind me. "Bella" it breathed in my ear "you don't have to go in there, you know".

I sighed impatiently this new addition to my dream seemed like a waste of time, I swivelled trying to find its source. Lo and behold there before was a ghostly apparition of Edward. "I don't have a choice" I snarled letting the anger, which threatened to consume me, flow.

"You always have a choice, we all do, and without it we might as well be dead" but he didn't understand, the past or the present, what I was feeling, what I had done.

I stepped forward and opened the door, just as always- but this time though the screaming I could hear Edward banding on the door from the outside. Begging to be let in, as if he cared…

When I awoke a resolution had already formed in my mind, after all I was forced to relive the worst night of my life again and again in my dreams, and I couldn't have Edward- I didn't have any other choice, the dream Edward was wrong. I was going to commit suicide.

I imagined the faces of my friends, when they stood at my grave and wept. And began to laugh hysterically, how they would suffer- my last parting swipe, to make them grieve. I had been forced into a corner so tight there was one last move I could make. But what move would it be? Drowning myself? Cutting my throat? Carving into my skin, a bloody rose? Hanging myself off the tree in my front garden? So many ways to die- each as ugly and undignified as the next.

Sorry this chapter's been so long coming, I had a severe case of writes block. Please review- again it would be helpful to get some feedback on your favourite quotes.