Chapter 3

Charlie came home a little after five. Edward had left a few minutes earlier, as Charlie disapproved of Edward's constant presence in the house. I made Charlie dinner, and busied myself with homework. This was the worst time of the day. The time where I had to be apart from Edward until Charlie went to bed. It was a tedious time, where I accomplished the chores and homework that I neglected to do when Edward was around.

"Hey, Bells?" Charlie called from downstairs.

I made my way to the living room, where my dad was lounging on the couch.

"Something came up at work today. The people at the station want me to renew one of my patrolling licenses. I hate leaving you alone so much, but it's important. I got to go to a seminar for two weeks, all the way in San Francisco. I tried finagling my way out of it, Bells, I really did. But I've been squeezing out of these seminars for years now, and they're not letting me off the hook for this one." Charlie looked at me apologetically. "If you want, you can stay with your mom while I'm gone, if it'll make you feel less lonely. But then you'll miss school. . ."

"It's fine, dad, really. Don't sweat it. I've never minded being home alone."

Charlie grimaced. "Err. . . don't take this the wrong way, Bella. You know I trust you. I just am uncomfortable with. . . Edward being around while I'm gone. I don't want you to have him over. Just for two weeks."

"Don't worry about it, dad. Nothing's going to happen."

Charlie made an incoherent grunt.

"When are you leaving?"

Charlie gave me a sheepish look. "It's in two days, right before your spring break starts. Sorry, Kiddo. I know it's going to be tough being by yourself all of break."

"No, It's fine, dad. I'm going to be working all break, anyway. I wouldn't even see you if you were home."

Charlie smiled. "Well then, great. I don't want you to feel abandoned," he said as he got up from the couch.

I cringed. Did he HAVE to use the a-word. It brought back that awful feeling I got when I thought about IT.

"Hey, I was just headed over to Billy's place. There's a game on. Do you want to come? You haven't seen Jake in ages."

Edward would kill me, and then kill me again, if he found out I went over to La Push.

I shook my head. "No thanks, Dad, maybe next time. I still have homework to do."

"Alright, Bells. I'll be back later. Call me at Billy's if you need anything."

"Sure thing, Dad."

I headed back upstairs, and watched out my bedroom window as Charlie pulled out the driveway and headed down the street. His taillights disappeared around the corner.

Well, great. I had absolutely nothing to do. My homework was done, diner was cleaned up, Edward wouldn't be back until who knows when. I really wasn't the type of person who liked having spare time on my hands. It made me. . . anxious. It gave me time to think about all the stuff I really didn't want to think about.

I paced around the room, trying to find something to distract me. It was too dark outside to go for a walk. I could read a book or watch T.V, but decided against it since I was too energetic to do something sedentary.

God, did I mention how much I hate it when Edward leaves? It brought up all that stuff that I really just didn't want to deal with.

Bella, I'm leaving.

Bella, this is the last time you'll see me.

Bella, I don't want you to come.

I really couldn't take any of it anymore— the voices in my head, the flashbacks, the memories. It hurt too much, like a knife slicing me in the chest. I had told Edward that I was fine, that I felt like my old self now that he was back. That was just one of the millions of lies I'd told since he left. It couldn't be more wrong. The truth is, there's an invisible knife hanging over my chest, and every time Edward leaves, that knife cuts me open. It's torture. Every time I get patched up again, the knife rips out the stitching.

Somehow I felt so much better when I replaced the emotional cuts with the physical ones. I had no control over that invisible knife, It did whatever it wanted to me. I was at it's mercy. But I had control over the one in my hand. I told it what to do, I told it where to cut. It was funny how one little incision on the wrist could make me feel so much better.

I made my way to the bathroom, and relaxed once my fingers grasped the cold metal of the razor.

I cut too deep this time. I knew it the second I saw my wrist. Blood poured from my veins and gushed into the sink like a waterfall. I grabbed a towel to try to stop the bleeding. I still grew nauseous at the smell of blood, even though I'd smelt it pretty regularly. I took a deep breath out of my mouth and tried to keep a clear head. Should I call 911? Was it that serious? No, if I went to the hospital Charlie would find out, Edward would find out, everyone would find out. That wasn't an option.

I was really panicking now. I knew that cutting my wrists was risky, I wasn't stupid. I knew that people could die from it. Was it really that bad though? I wasn't sure. I decided to stick it out, see if I could get it to stop on it's own.

The towel was stained a deep red, almost black color by the time it finally stopped bleeding. I was glad, so glad, that I didn't call the hospital. Everything would be ruined if I had made the call. Besides some minor blood loss, I was as good as new. I was relieved that my little secret was safe, though I internally vowed to never cut so deep again.

I wrapped a gauze around my wrist, just for good measure, and threw the soiled towel in a grocery bag. Then I headed outside and threw the bag in the neighbor's trashcan. I doubted Edward would notice it there.

I was tired. Probably from the blood loss. I climbed into bed, and even though it wasn't even 8:00 yet, I fell fast asleep.

Edward kissed me awake, as usual. He waited in my room as I prepared for school. I really wasn't looking forward to another week of tedious classwork. I guess you could say that I developed a serious case of senioritis.

Spanish was first hour, and I dreaded going to it. It was one of the few classes I didn't have with Edward, and that made it all the worse.

We were reviewing today for a big test next class. I couldn't seem to focus on irregular subjunctive conjugation like the rest of my classmates. My mind was elsewhere. I excused myself from class and went to the bathroom for a nice little break.

I rolled up my sleeves as I prepared to wash my hands in the sink, and the bandage around my wrist caught my eye. I peeled away the gauze and studied the scar on my skin. It was a pretty gruesome cut, I had to admit. The wound was red and angry, the skin around it puffy and bruised. When I pressed down on the scar, the skin turned white for a minute before returning red.

I decided that I wanted a little pain today. Edward was all the way across the school, in the gymnasium along with Alice. I was sure they wouldn't notice the smell of my blood. Besides, if they ever asked, I could make up some sort of lie about tripping down the stairs or something.

I pulled out a pair of scissors from my backpack, and placed it above the healing scar from last night. I pressed down, and was instantly rewarded with a searing pain I could feel all the way up my arm. The left side of my body throbbed with each heartbeat. It was great.

I ran my arm under the faucet for a little while, watching the warm water wash away the blood. Just like last night, I had some trouble getting the bleeding to stop. I grabbed some paper towels and tried to use pressure to force the bleeding to stop. It was getting late. If I was in here too long, Señora Castro would get suspicious, maybe even give me a detention. I wrapped my arm in paper towel, and then wrapped the gauze around the paper towel, and then headed back to class. Luckily, I wore a bulky sweatshirt today, which covered the bulge around my arm.

I could tell throughout Spanish class that my arm was still bleeding. I could feel the paper towel and gauze saturate with blood. I had to take care of this before class ended, otherwise Edward would smell the blood when he walked with me to second hour. I raised my hand and asked Señora if I could get a drink of water.

"Sí, Bella, pero esta es la última vez".

I went to the bathroom, and luckily got most of the bleeding to stop. It just sort of trickled out a little now. Relieved, I headed back to class.

The day passed slowly, as Mondays tend to. When I finally arrived home, I collapsed onto the couch. Edward chuckled at my exasperated position.

Edward helped me with homework, which was not the most exciting activity, but it was necessary. I was disappointed when 5:00 rolled around again, signaling Edward's departure and Charlie's arrival. I was really, really, really just not having a good day, and Edward leaving made it all the worse. As soon as he left I bolted upstairs to make another incision.

Oh, fuck. I had never seen so much blood, never in my life. I couldn't get it to stop, or even slow down. It was in the sink, on the counter, pooling on the floor. My clothes were splattered, it glued into my hair. Damn it, oh fuck.

It kept coming and coming. I was crying now. Damn it, damn it, damn it. One thought kept running through my mind, THIS is how I'm going to die? After all the close calls, after all the rescue efforts, I'm going to kill myself?

I grabbed my cell phone.

"Bella?" the voice answered.

I was sobbing into the phone. "Edward, oh God, Edward. I-I cut my arm. I can't get it to stop bleeding. I'm losing so much blood." I was panicking now.

"Bella? Bella?" I could hear the urgency in his voice. "I'll be right over, I'm coming as fast as I can. Are you putting pressure on it? Put pressure on it, it'll help stop the bleeding."

"Edward, I'm sorry— so sorry." I cried into the phone "I'm scared."

"Bella, I'll be there in one second. Just stay where you are, it'll all be alright. Just stay calm, please, Sweetheart."

I looked at the floor, at the pool of red at my feet, and that was when I knew I was going to die.

"Edward" I practically yelled into the phone. "Edward, I'm sorry! I love you, please help me."

"I love you too, Bella. God, I love you so much. Please just stay calm. I'm almost there."

He stayed on the line with me the whole time he speed to my house. He kept me talking, kept me calm, until he finally arrived. He went into medical mode immediately, tying the towel around my arm like a tourniquet.

"It's okay, Bella. It's alright. You're safe, you're alright." He chanted over and over, as he worked on my arm.

"I'm going to call Carlisle, okay? He'll take care of this. You'll be fine, I promise."

I was still crying— well, more like sobbing uncontrollably. God, what was wrong with me? I didn't freak out during my other near death experiences. I was cool as a cucumber. But I was completely falling apart this time.

Edward held me close as we waited for Carlisle. He set me on his lap, my face pressed into his shoulder as I cried and cried. He whispered reassurances into my ear, kissed my hair, and did a damn good job at keeping me calm.

Edward was still tightly pinching my tourniquet when Carlisle arrived.

Edward spoke urgently to Carlisle, as I continued to cry uselessly.

"Carlisle, she needs stitches. Probably quite a few. Her arm is infected, which is probably why the wound isn't healing."

Carlisle gave me stitches. Edward held me. I cried.

"Edward, why don't you take Bella to our house. I'll clean up the bathroom, so it won't scare Charlie when he comes home."

Edward took off without a word, me tightly tucked in his arms.

Edward didn't stop running until we were in his room, on his bed. That was when I saw his face. I had seen him worried before, lots of times. But his face was beyond worried, beyond panicked. His eyes were jet black, hysteric. His hair was wild, flying in all directions. My blood was smeared on his clothes, his arms. His jaw was tense, making his whole face look hard and dead. I will do whatever it takes to never make him look like this again, I vowed. From now on his happiness is my number one priority.

"Edward, I'm so—"

He cut me off "Shh, Bella. Not right now, I need space."

He got off the bed and walked around the room, pacing.

I stayed quiet, not knowing what would happen next.

Suddenly, he stopped pacing, and his fist collided with the wall, punching a hole through it. The loud crack made me jump.

"Damn it, Bella!" he shouted.

I gasped, his outburst surprised me.

He looked at me once he heard my surprised sound. Immediately, his granite face softened.

"Shit, I'm sorry, Bella. I didn't mean to scare you. I'm so sorry."

He came over and sat next to me on the bed. I leaned against him, and his arms wrapped around me. We stayed like that for a long time, neither of us speaking.

Finally he broke the silence.

"You cut your arm on purpose?" He questioned. His voice was not angry like I expected. It was a gentle whisper.

I nodded.

"But- wh- I don't understand. Why would you do something like that to yourself?"

I shrugged.

His voice was a whisper. It was so low, I almost missed it. "I messed up, didn't I? When I left. I hurt you so badly. I'm so sorry, Bella. God, I want to take everything back. I'm so sorry."

I wanted to tell him that he didn't mess up, that I was alright. But I kept my mouth shut. I was sick of lying.

He didn't speak for the rest of the night, and neither did I. He just held me, probably tighter than he ever had before, until I sank blissfully into unconsciousness.