Life is possibly the worst form of torture known to man. At least to those who have lost what made it beautiful. Those like me, who are without what they need most. I've been suffering for more than two months now. Art has eased the pain in my chest slightly, but I can still feel the monster clawing at my flesh and ribs. And no matter what I do to try to appease the monster, his growls become louder every moment I suffer.

But no amount of flogging or stabbing could amount to the pain I felt that day.

The day I talked to Edward again.

~!~!~!~!~!~

The memories were sharp and clear, like a reflection in the blade of a knife. I remember the day smelling like a quarter you found in an alleyway: bold, salty scents of the other hands that have touched it. The sky was a dull blue (when the clouds would let it show through). Winter had finally decided that Forks was the place to be, and settled down among the tiny houses and narrow streets. Snow was falling in dust-like sheets onto my dirty hair and navy shirt. In other words, it was another monotonous day in Forks.

My foot-steps were slow as I made my way towards the dated building. The shoes I wore had become dirty after so much use, but at that point I didn't care. My clothes were also a bit disheveled and wrinkled after being unmotivated to do the wash. But why look good anyway? The only person who had looked at me with interest lately was Mike Newton, and he wasn't even looking at my face. Pervert! I screamed at him in my head.

Though I took time in every movement jut so I wouldn't have to have pain in the next, I was always at school before the teachers even arrived. When free time comes, my thoughts flow freely, giving themselves over to darker topics. So every morning, I sit in the supple leather seats and wait . . . . but for what? I want the grief and guilt away from my eyes, yet they're the things I can't bear to lose. Maybe it's because they're the only things that tie me to Edward anymore. Maybe it's because deep down, I think that feeling pain is better that feeling nothing at all.

But I know I feel something whenever Edward walks by. I feel an exotic vibe resonating from deep within my chest, which somehow even quiets the monster. Maybe it's love. But it couldn't be; I stopped loving two months ago.

Or did I? Did I really banish all of those feeling of trust, yearning, a passion? Or did I simply cover them up with a blank mask?

By the time I came back from the wintry corners of my mind, I had ten minutes until class started. I gathered my books with feeble and weak fingers. I had lost my appetite lately due to . . . . Traumatic events. But I certainly wasn't trying to lose weight. I had never been over-weight, and always a slender girl. Never pretty, though. Except maybe in Mike Newton's eyes. I shuddered again at the thought of his over-eager eyes.

When I entered the classroom, all turned silent. Jessica looked like a lion about to pounce on her prey as she approached me.

"Hey, Bella. There are a some rumors going around that I need to talk to you about. Could we go out in the hall, please?" she asked with a perfect pout.

"Sure, Jess." I answered quickly. Rumors? This wouldn't lead to anything good . . . .

After we were away from the pressing stares of the other students, Jessica turned around quickly. Her eyes had gone from a heart-melting plead to a glare that would make Satan cry.

"Alright, let's talk." I said.

"There's a rumor going around that you went heavy with Edward last night. It better not be true, you tramp, slu-" she growled before I cut her off.

The monster roared within my chest. "Jessica, I haven't had a conversation with Edward in two months. Nothing happened last night." I sighed, exasperated. Who could've started that?

"Oh. Well don't think that because you got off the hook this time, I'll cut you slack the next." she threatened in a whisper, and stomped off. I shook my head sorrowfully. I wanted to be with Edward, but neither of us would have done something like that. Edward was always making sure we didn't rush ourselves. He was of course right. But wasn't he always?

~!~!~!~!~!~

It was biology, and I was of course the first one to take a seat. The rain had progressed from gentle pit-pats on the roof to violent slams of water. Leaves dance about in the wind, and were broken apart in its strength. Though the rain rarely stopped in Forks, the weather never seemed so outraged. In some ways, it seemed like an omen for what was to come.

All of the students had filed in, shreds of leaves adorning their hair. Their faces were wet with the rain, which now glimmered in their eyelashes. Compared to me, they all looked like gods and goddesses of the earth. But none of them could be called beautiful when the last person came in: Edward. His hair was even messier, probably due to a certain girl braiding her fingers in it. She also probably put her grubby fingers other places, but that would be a most puke-provoking subject.

"I'm so sorry, sir. I was having trouble with my locker." he said with a look that could melt an iceberg.

"That's quite alright, Mr. Masen. Just try not to do it again." Mr. Banner said with as much warmth.

I looked down at the scratched table top, and wrapped my arms tightly around myself. My breathing became shallow as the gashes in my chest threatened to split me in half. Mr. Banner started speaking, but I couldn't seem to hear him. His words had become bland and mushy, like oatmeal. After giving up on listening, my thoughts turned to the person beside me. I remembered being in Port Angeles with him one night.

"Edward, at least tell me where we're going." I whined. His warm hands covered my eyes as he pushed me forward.

"Why would I do that? Then I would miss a beautiful look of surprise on your face." he whispered into my ear. I shivered, but the night was perfectly warm. Instead of complaining, I listened. My feet were walking across an unstable surface, almost like an old brick road. I heard the quiet murmurs of other people around me. Children laughed at jokes that weren't funny, and adults talked of things that the children shouldn't know about.

I heard the sound of a bell, and the rush of ocean waves became much quieter. We were inside now. Edward lifted his hands from my eyes. It was a small shop that had every inch covered in some sort of colorful fabric.

"You brought me to a costume shop?" I asked.

"Yes. Now go try something on; I will, too." he answered.

My eyes traveled to a 50's swing dress. It was yellow cotton with blue stripes lining the top, dots spotting the flouncy bottom. I grabbed the hanger and went into a dressing room. The dress fit nicely. I stepped out and turned to the dressing room Edward had gone into. He stepped out dressed as a chicken!

When I fell on the floor laughing, he said, "Don't laugh at me! I'd like to see you wear a chicken suit with as much pride!" At that I only laughed harder.

"Fine, I'll put on something idiotic this time." I said when I finally sobered up. This time, I found a clown suit, complete with red nose and orange wig. When I had finally fastened the nose on correctly, I stepped out to find Edward in a toga. He looked like Greek god.

His eyes bulged out, and then squirted out tears as he laughed at my present state. "Okay, I guess I deserve it." I said.

"Yes, yes you do!" he said between laughs. I stepped over and hit him playfully on the arm.

"Let's both try not to look like morons this time." I ordered. He turned the other way (still laughing) to find another costume. My eyes immediately found a wedding dress. It had a train that ran about five feet, and was adorned with broken bits of lace. The top half looked like an early 1900's corset, sheer sleeves flowing from it. It was beautiful. My hands frantically grabbed the hanger and pulled it over to the changing room. It took a minute to get on, but was well worth it in the end. I looked as if my wedding was in an hour. I could almost hear the organ.

I stepped out to see one of the most beautiful things in the world: Edward Mason in a tuxedo. His eyes turned to me, and he stepped closer. His arms found their way around my waist as he whispered, "My bride."

"Bella, are you okay?" a musical voice asked from next to me. I recognized the voice immediately as Edward's. I realized that class was still in session, and there were tears streaming down my face. My eyes traveled to the angel sitting beside me. His face was clouded with genuine worry and concern. For what? Could he actually be worried about me?

"Yeah, I'm fine." I managed to choke out.

"No you're not." he said sternly. "Now tell me what's going on."

"Charlie wants me to go to Florida." I whispered.

"And what's so bad about that?" he chuckled.

"It means I'll be away from home- and the people I love." I whimpered.

"Like Mike, right?" he guessed. I sighed. I had never loved Mike, and never would. But Edward obviously wanted me to be just as happy with someone else as he was. Too bad Mike wanted the same.

"No, not Mike."

"Then who, besides Charlie?" he asked confusedly.

"You, you idiot!" I wanted to scream, but instead bit my tongue.

A look of recognition came into his eyes as he realized of who was left. He now knew that I still loved him; but who didn't? Surely everyone had noticed that I had become catatonic directly after he left me. Even Charlie- oblivious to the absolute extreme- had seen my paintings, and had taken them as a sign of my depression. After doing the painting of the girl in the mask, I had moved onto the other possibilities. Pictures of things like a girl sitting in a circle of candles, bathing in the moonlight. Another was a picture of a person bound by black cords.

For the rest of the class period, I thought of my utmost desires. One would be to not be able to talk; it seems to already have gotten me in enough trouble. Two would be that Jessica Stanley would die. No explanation is needed for that one. Third, it would be that Edward would still love me. I shouldn't have to explain that one either. I imagine his desires are a bit different from mine.

Chapter End Notes:

I'm completely in love with it, but it shall do.

Picture time! Wait, GAH! The stupid picture thingy won't work. Dang flabbit gnargles. I will try to post them soon.

I have a proposition for you. If you review my story, I'll read one of yours and review it. Sound good? Now go review!