Dear Edward,

I'm sick now. It was Thanksgiving. Esme cooked, even though she wasn't happy she cooked to make the rest of us happy. The appetizers had just been served, and everyone was watching football, just like every year. Every year with you. And I couldn't take it, so I ran out into the woods. I fell, of course, and broke my ankle. I couldn't get up, and it started raining. By the time anyone found me I had a high fever and was puking. Carlisle fixed my ankle and gave me a prescription antibiotic at your house so I didn't have to go to the hospital. There are a couple of times that I've thought about overdosing it, but then I just can't.

Charlie knows this and wants to try and get me counseling, but I don't think anyone will understand what I'm going through. They will see it as just another case, or a teenager who thought she was in love, but it's not. It's so much different, deeper than that. Most of the time I just stay in my room so I don't have to hear the lectures on how I have to get out more and how unhealthy this lifestyle is. I do get out sometimes, if your house counts.

Your family has gotten better. Emmett has taken place as the man of the house now that Carlisle is always at work, and Alice has restarted her normal activities, just without the usual bounce. Esme comes out of the room now, but only when her children need her. She cooks dinner and stops fights and everything that a mother is suppose to do, but all of her free time is spent alone, and the rest of it her mind is with you. She misses you so much. I do too. I wish you could come back to us- to me.

I love you.

Bella