A/N - Thank you to the best betas a girl could own, er, I mean, have: jkane180 and Mac214. Also love to DoUTrustme for the pre-read. This chapter is dedicated to my sister pimp of the twificpimps, altheajams for her stellar and thought provoking reviews. I love you bb!

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"Bells, wake up, baby." His arms were on me. The nightmare continued.

In the dark I could only feel his heat. Maybe if I closed my eyes and concentrated, I could fade into the air like smoke; burnt out embers of fizzled need.

Another night of counting until I could count no longer. Another night of waiting for his disgusting passion for me to run dry. One, two, three, four... I would gag, and he would push deeper. Not even my vomit was a deterrent.

I couldn't do it again. I'd sooner choose death.

"I'll scream," I threatened in a whimper. "If you put it in my mouth, I'll bite."

She'll never believe you. She knows you've been coming onto me since you were twelve, you little whore.

Screams filled my head and spilled out of my mouth. The eyes in the dark retreated for a moment, before light from my bedside lamp dispersed the image. I rubbed my eyes and cursed, jostled out of my nightmare.

"Bells?"

"Dad?"

"Hey, now..." He sat beside me on my bed. "What's the matter?"

"Sorry... just a bad dream. I'm fine." I wrapped my arms around my chest to keep myself from falling apart. I was unraveling - a thread on a spindle, and I couldn't make the spinning stop.

"Come here, Bells." Charlie pulled me into his lap and rubbed my hair. "I've got you."

Come here, Isabella. I've got you.

"Don't touch me!" I screamed, punching him in the jaw. The shadows on the wall descended upon me, and I was overcome with grief. Closing my eyes was the only way to avoid being swallowed by the infinite black. Darkness creeps that way, slowly and steadily until everything is consumed.

But the weight wasn't over me this time. I was sitting upright, cradling my fist. My hand was still clenched into a ball, and my knuckles were tender from a fresh bruise.

"I'm calling your doctor."

"Oh, Dad... I didn't mean it... to hurt you. It was my dream."

Charlie looked at me sadly. "It's not the punches that bother me, baby girl. I want to know what happened to you in Phoenix that causes you to scream at night."

"I can't... no, Dad. Nothing. I'm just fucked-up. And what do you mean by punches?"

"I try..." His voice choked. "You don't let me hold you. I'm your Dad... I wouldn't hurt you."

"I know," I whispered hoarsely. His hand reached toward me, and I swatted it away without thinking.

"Who hurt you?" He became stoic before me, shifting out of "Dad mode" and into the role of "police chief." His brow hardened as he surveyed me.

"No one."

"Bullshit. You're acting like a victim."

"Please, Dad. I don't want to talk to you about... this. I'll talk to Dr. Banner."

"Fine," he said. "But I'm calling your mother."

-({})-

I'd never really been one to gush my heart out - at least, not in person. I mean, I'd been known to word vomit all over my blog at times... but, dude. I just pretty much shared every terrible, private and mean thought I'd had in the last six days with my therapist. And what was his reaction? Abso-fucking-lutely nothing. The silence in the room made made me want to hit something.

"Um, are you going to say something, or should I just leave?"

"You've had a busy week," Dr. Banner finally said.

"That's all you've got to say?" I gasped, kicking his desk.

He shrugged. "I knew about the arrest already. You missed a session due to public service responsibilities." He opened his desk and threw a lighter at me. "I'm trusting you with this." He winked.

"Um... okay?" I flicked the cheap Bic, igniting the flint. "Did I ever tell you about the midget in my pants who tells me to burn things?"

"You did not. Tell me more."

"His name's Sparky. He wants me to burn your furniture for being ugly. Don't be afraid. I'm doing you a favour."

"You're not an arsonist, Bella. You're an exhibitionist."

"Um, what? No! I'm like the opposite of an exhibitionist. I'm a hermit," I protested.

"With an addiction to Facebook?" He cocked an eyebrow in that annoying, psychoanalytical way.

"A hermit with Internet access." I shrugged.

"Will you allow me to make an observation?" Dr. Banner asked. "I mean it; I don't want to jam my advice down your throat - I want you to figure things out for yourself."

"Interesting choice of phrasing, but go ahead."

"You wanted the school to find out about your dalliance with young Mr. Cullen. You don't guard your secrets very closely because you crave the attention. If you valued your and Edward's privacy, you would've made sure your status was set to private... or, and this is me just going out on a limb here, you wouldn't have blogged about fucking him in the first place."

I hated Dr. Banner.

The motherfucker was right.

-({})-

My hand was beyond trembling as I stood in front of Edward's front door, regretting not popping a few Ativan in preparation for this confrontation. Except I wasn't here to confront him in an offensive way: this was "Operation Grovel." I couldn't bring myself to ring the doorbell, so instead, I rapped out a meek little knock.

An Alice look-alike opened the door, and I just about bolted upon the sight of her. Her eyes were what held me in place - they were blue, lightly etched with lines in the corners, and bright in an almost kind way. She also stood several inches taller than Alice... oh, and was way less constipated-looking. Huh. Idly, I wondered if Edward's sister needed a good laxative or some deep, anal intrusion... an ass raping would be my preference.

"Hello?" she greeted after we stared in silence at each other for a good minute and a half.

"Uh, hi." She was probably waiting for me to identify myself and state a purpose for being at her door. "I'm Bella... a friend of Edward's."

"Hello, Bella," she greeted politely, offering me a manicured hand. I gave it a limp shake, even though I felt like I should kiss it or some shit. "I'm Esme, Edward's mother."

Oh, crap... she was Alice's mother too, and I just totally looked her in the eye and thought about someone ass raping her daughter.

"You're really pretty," I stammered. "I mean, of course you'd be... Edward's sort of gorgeous so... it makes sense. Um, what I mean to ask is if Edward's home?" I looked down at her feet and noticed she was wearing really pretty little heels. I thought only people in the movies wore shoes in their house.

"He is, but he's composing right now. Is he expecting you?" She wasn't blocking my entrance into her home or anything, but I got the impression she wasn't overly thrilled by my presence. I bet she was really protective of her son. Why wouldn't she be? He was sweet and kind and beautiful when he wasn't acting like a douchebagging man-whore.

"Not exactly... um, I guess I could come back if now's not a good time."

"Don't be silly. I'll let Edward know you're here." She smiled almost warmly, motioning for me to wait in the front room just beyond the entryway. I shook my head discourteously.

"Could I just follow? I, um..." have severe anxiety issues and don't want to sit in this strange room alone. "I don't mean to be rude, but I have some very peculiar boundary issues," I blabbered.

"Of course." She sighed, gazing at me as if she didn't want me to be there. "He likes to work on his music up in the loft... for privacy," she stressed, and I nodded again, reiterating it wasn't my intention to disrupt his life. Esme moved slowly and cautiously, demonstrating she was acting against her better judgement by leading me to her son, fighting her instincts. A mother should trust her instincts, and I feared this didn't bode well for me.

"Please," I said softly. "I'll be brief... I won't interrupt his, er, composition for very long. Honestly, I don't mean to be disruptive, but with all due respect, I firmly believe he really needs to see me."

Esme nodded and turned away from me, walking toward the main, massive staircase at a snail's pace. The walls were needlessly dark in the grand foyer; the sconces dimly lit like kerosene lamps. The general ambiance, coupled with my desperation to see Edward, made me feel like Eurydice, clawing her way out of the underworld. Each step Esme took, I mirrored with added caution, grateful she didn't turn back to look at me as Orpheus did to Eurydice. If she broke the spell, there was a chance I'd turn to dust. Already, I felt like I'd been subsisting on borrowed time, that maybe I was just a corpse on a shower floor back in Phoenix.

Oh, god, the darkness threatened to overtake me again.

That was when I heard music: the beautiful, rich, and dark chords of a melodic piano music. Perhaps Orpheus was the source of the music, not my guide out of Hades. Good thing, too, as that story really didn't end very well.

I stepped up on the slick surface of the glass stairs, clutching the banister so I wouldn't fall. Glass stairs... seemed like a law suit just waiting to happen! In my haste fleeing the house yesterday, I'd failed to notice what a deathtrap the ridiculous winding staircase was. Still shuffling behind Esme, my eyes squinted as everything seemed to become infinitesimally brighter with every ascension. Was it an optical illusion that the higher we climbed, the brighter everything seemed? Rainbows suddenly blinded me from the refracted light shining through a crystal chandelier. The colour waned and disappeared as we climbed above the massive light fixture.

Huh. You'd think I would've remembered a chandelier last time I was here. Maybe there was another staircase at the back of the house.

It wasn't my imagination though. I was indeed rising from the dark, from the ash, like a resurrected phoenix from the flame... or a girl from Phoenix, at least.

Whatever. I was coming alive; the sentiment was still there.

Darkness would not claim me, I vowed, still climbing the limitless stairs toward light. Skyward toward Apollo, I thought lamely. Whenever panic seized me, my mind seemed to process thought as metaphor - crap metaphor and incongruous allusions.

"Wow... it's bright all the sudden," I said. Esme looked at me strangely, probably wondering if I was a simpleton. I smiled weakly, shielding my eyes from the sudden, blinding light. "What light from yonder window breaks?"

Esme laughed. "It is the eastern sky through our newly installed skylights... and fair Edward is the sun." She pointed to the loft studio while I threw up in my mouth a little. Then again, I was mixing Greek mythology and pseudo-Italian tragedy. Mixing allusions was just crass. Also, I was winded from the monumental climb. My brain clearly lacked oxygen.

"Oh, wow," I wheezed. "What is this?" There seemed to be only one room on the third level, and the door was slightly ajar. I could see what looked like egg cartons on the walls.

"The music room. It's completely sound proof."

"Neat." I took a few careful steps closer to the open door, mesmerized by the light tinkling of piano. "He's composing... this?"

Esme smiled patiently. "No, Bella. That's Chopin. I'm not sure why he isn't working on original music." A cloud passed over her face for a nearly imperceptible moment. "Edward," she called suddenly. "You have a visitor."

Oh, shit. For no reason I could think of, I started to chew the sleeve of my shirt. I pretty much wanted to stick my head under my collar like a turtle, but that would make this situation infinitely more awkward.

"Hi!" I said much too enthusiastically.

"Thanks, Mom," he said politely, betraying no emotion. I wondered if that was a good sign.

"Will Bella be joining us for dinner?" she asked Edward.

"Oh, no," I said quickly. "Thanks, though. My dad doesn't eat if I don't cook for him. Seriously. Before I moved to Forks, he thought Cheetos and beer was a well-rounded meal."

Edward seemed relieved, and I wondered if that was a bad sign. Who the fuck could read the signs in this house?

"Okay. In that case, make sure your guest is gone before seven, Edward. I expect you to join us for dinner."

"She'll be gone long before then," he muttered tersely. Yeah, not a good sign. All signs pointed to crap.

"Let me know if you need anything." Esme's tone was gracious, but beneath the surface, I could discern a mother-bear menacing growl. She did not want me upsetting her son. I wished I could assure her I wouldn't hurt him. She turned out of the room, her shadow waning as she descended the stairs.

"Okay," I said quickly. "Before you throw my ass out of your house, which I totally deserve by the way, please just let me apologize? And don't look at me like that. I totally know you're about to say 'apologize, then', all stiff and guy-like. This is real, though, Edward. I honestly am so horribly sorry for what I did. I tricked you into fucking me. I made you think I was sexually experienced, and that I could be an easy lay. My motives were fucked up, and my instincts are just perversely backwards."

Edward sat stoically at his piano for a moment, his entire body seemingly wrought with tension. He swallowed, squeaking out a strangled noise that sounded almost like a muted sob before pounding out a few minor chords. The music was dark and violent, growing darker still when his fingers curled into fists, mashing the keys to create a rhythmic groan rather than a melody. Even in the disjointed chaos of sound, there was music.

"Please stop?" I begged. "Don't hurt the piano... it's so beautiful."

"I hurt you... Bella, I'm so sorry."

"Please, don't? This is my apology. Let me give it to you." I sat beside him on the bench and plucked lightly at the keys. I wasn't a great musician, but I had an almost intrinsic sense of harmony. "What were you playing?"

"Um," he choked out, looking curiously at my hands on the ivories. I wondered if I should remove them... if I was making him uncomfortable. "Sleeping Sickness by City and Colour."

"Play it a little softer," I instructed him. "Transpose it up a tone, maybe?"

He nodded, playing a modified melody effortlessly. With my right hand, I crudely tapped out the harmony line and sang along. "Someone come and save my life. Maybe I'll sleep when I'm dead, but for now it's like the night is taking sides. All the worries that occupy the back of my mind... could it be this misery will suffice?"

"Bella," he whispered, still playing. "That's beautiful."

"I like you," I replied simply. "I want to help you... I want to be the girl in your journal. I mean, I'm not her yet, but maybe..."

"What I said... I don't want you to be anyone but you."

I smiled. "Okay."

"That stuff I said in school... about you begging me to... I can't even say it. I'll clear your name though; I promise." He rested his head against my shoulder.

"Don't promise me anything. I'm trying to keep my expectations low here so I won't be destroyed."

He nodded, offering no promises that he wouldn't hurt me. I appreciated it, that he didn't lie to me.

"What are we?" he asked, sounding so much like a child.

"Friends?"

"Friends," he repeated. "Well, I guess we could try... I'm probably not the best kind of friend for you though." He frowned. "But I'll try not to hurt you."

"I promise to try not to hurt you too." My cheeks hurt, and I noticed I was smiling.

"Bella?"

"Yeah?"

"Do friends make out?"

I laughed and pushed him off the seat.

A/N - Google City and Colour to hear the song "Sleeping Sickness." It's beautiful. We're posting a year in review episode tonight or tomorrow of the Twific Pimps podcast. Listen to our sexy (ha!) voices for some great fic recs of 2010.

My husband is getting me an iPhone 4 for Christmas. Please review me for one last buzz on my iPhone 3? Big Black has given me soooo many happy memories thanks to your review buzzes. Big inappropriate love!