Previously: Edward arrived at the institution and found that Bella was still alive.

Chapter 2

Bella's point of view (BPOV)

I can see them surrounding me. The image is not clear, and I know that they were not real, but I can still see them. All seven of my imaginary Cullens are in the room, chattering and laughing so quickly that I can't make out the words. The edges of their frames blur, and they seem to glow somehow. It's the hallucinations again. I wonder fleetingly why no one has come to give me my anti-psychotic medication like they usually do, but I smile and shake it off. It's better this way.

"Isabella Swan, what have I told you about wearing the same outfit more than once?" imaginary Alice chastises me.

"But, Alice," I mumble wearily, "It's all I've got."

"Ugh, Bella, no excuses!" she exclaims.

I turn my head away, uninterested in a fashion monologue my subconscious dredged up from who knows where. My eyes lock on the most beautiful of my hallucinations. My beloved soul mate, the most blurry and translucent of them all, continues to stare at the wall as he has done since they threw me in here. He has refused to show me his face since my first episode. My throat constricts with the inadequacy the idea plunges through my mouth. He must hate me now for sure, now that I've exposed their secret.

"I'm s-sorry," I whisper to him, my eyelids fluttering as I struggle to cling to consciousness, "I n-never meant to hu-hurt you." I breathe in deeply, wheezing softly as I do so. My eyes water and I wish desperately to be able to wipe the precious liquid from my face and consume it. I haven't had any water in what seems like forever. So thirsty…

I don't know how long I've been in here. They took me away from my normal room on the second story after I had a tantrum during breakfast one day and threw me in here. They used to come in every so often to bring me water and feed me, but I haven't seen anyone in quite some time. They've never had me in here this long before, anyway. Usually they only leave me alone in here for a few hours to teach me a lesson; I heard one of the "helpers" muttering about it. It has definitely been more than a few hours, and no one has brought me anything in a long time. It's hard to tell time in here, since there are no windows, so I rely on my inner sense of time to judge.

"Oh, Bella, dear, you look so pale," hallucinatory Esme worries, her voice rising and lowering in volume as if it were only the wind, "When was the last time you had something to eat?"

"A while," I murmur, closing my eyes tiredly. Realizing what I'm doing, I wrench them open again. Rest means sleep, and sleep means nightmares. But think about it, the less sensible part of me pleads, "You can't be thirsty while you're asleep." Too exhausted to fight about it, the more sane portion of me relents, and I close my eyes.

…

A loud noise awakens me. My eyelids are still heavy with sleep as I peer around in search of the source. My hallucinations are still with me, but they are nearly transparent now. They are huddled around me protectively, their backs facing me. My tired mind connects their stances to the when they were protecting me at the baseball game, and I gasp quietly at the pain the vivid memory brings. It seems like I could put my hand right through Emmett's chest, just as the doctors always told me I could. My heart breaks a little at the reminder that the real Cullens are not here trying to protect me from an unseen danger.

When I first see the door begin to open, I close my eyes again and loll my head back. Thankful that someone has finally thought to bring me water, I sigh. Perhaps they've come to free me. My arms and legs are very stiff from the excessive amount of time spent restrained to my sides. I clear my throat in preparation to answer the questions that are surely coming. Most of them are politely concerned. How are you feeling today, Bella? Are you ready to come out now, Bella? We've all missed you, Bella; do you want to see the cards the others made for you? Then there are the not so nice ones. Think you can stay out for more than a week this time, Bella? Did you enjoy your time in your straight jacket, Bella? I don't like to respond to the nastier ones, but they keep me in here longer if I don't say anything.

The voice I hear, however, is the last thing I would have expected. "Bella," the musical voice asks, cautiously hopeful, "We're coming in now, okay?"

My eyes shoot open, flying around the room in search of the glorious speaker. I would recognize that voice anywhere. I have heard the familiar voice over the past few months through my hallucination, but this is so solid and real that it could only be legitimate. Just as I'm beginning to scold myself for hoping like that, a certain vampire slips through the doorway into my view. My eyes widen in shock, and tears spring forward again, sinfully blocking my sight. I attempt to wipe them away, but my hands are still tied to my sides. I breathe in and out shakily, shaking my head back and forth wildly in an attempt to fling the tears away. I cry out desolately, deeply distressed by my inability to properly see my beloved vampire. I struggle to lift up my torso, but the strain is too much on my underused back muscles. Fatigue rips at the edges of my will, but I yank it back forcefully; even if he is only a figment of my imagination, nothing will stop me from seeing him. I blink hastily, but the tears come too quickly for that to do any good. My chest heaves with the force of my desperation, and my breathing switches to heavy wheezing. Thirst scratches my throat like desert sand swirling around at the speed of hurricane winds. Black spots flash in and out of my vision, but I blink those away with sheer willpower as well. Now is not the time to pass out.

Cool fingers grab my shoulders, lifting me up against the stone chest of my beloved. I tremble, still trying to process what is happening. Could this be real? An internal battle rages within me as one part of me yearns desperately to hope and the other viciously fights to fend off any thought that this could actually be real. I breathe in quick gasps, struggling within my restraints as he carries me out of my prison.

"Sh, Bella," he whispers soothingly, "It's okay. You're safe now."

But can I trust this? I yearn to ask him, Can I trust that you're actually here?

He pulls me close and presses his lips against my temple tenderly. "I'm so sorry," he murmurs so softly that I wonder if he meant for me to hear him. He pushes a tangled mass of hair from my face, and I am suddenly self-conscious. In the event that this is real, an idea that I do not legitimately believe at this moment to be true, I am a mess right now. The days I spent without brushing my teeth or hair suddenly weigh heavily on my shoulders, shoving me into the embarrassingly well-lit hole of chagrin. I can taste the dryness in my mouth and know that my breath is not a pleasant aroma at the moment. My hair feels like it was soaked in grease and left to dry. No wonder he doesn't want me, I moan mentally.

He carries me into a room I'd seen many times before on my way to the cell. The walls were all a generic gray color, except for the wall facing the cell which I know to be one-way glass. The floor tiles are a plain, grungy white color that shows the years of wear that psychiatrists and patients alike have inflicted on them. These things are not shocking to me; I do, however, find the people in the room to be very shocking. They're all there. The figments of my imagination, my hallucinations without the blurring, the character of both my nightmares and my dreams. All in one room. Come to see me, though I thought they'd left me for good. Hang on, part of me rationalizes, It's been a few days since you had your anti-psychotics. That's all this is; quit getting your hopes up like this.

Still, my brown eyes widen as I take them in, and my dried lips twist into a bewildered grimace. I glance fleetingly at each face, going around looking at each face for only a second before beginning the cycle again as if I expected the ones in my peripheral vision to disappear on me. Seeing them again almost overwhelms me. Rosalie averts her eyes awkwardly, glancing at me pityingly every now and then. She's disgusted with you; she can hardly look at you, the pessimistic side of me snaps.Emmett's eyebrows are raised in surprise, and his mouth is open in a grimace. Alice's puppy dog eyes are watering with unshed tears as she stares at me, and that combined with her tiny form makes me want to jump out of my hallucinatory beloved's arms and hug her. That might make her cry more. Jasper keeps his eyes down, his inner turmoil overt on his face. Remembering the events of my birthday, it is no question as to why he is so reluctant to be here. Esme gazes at me with heavy maternal sympathy, and I can practically see her hands twitch at her sides as she tries to figure out what to do next. My throat constricts with inadequacy. You don't deserve her sympathy. You're the one who practically blabbed to the whole world about her biggest secret. Carlisle's anguished stare affects me the most; his golden eyes swirl with the force of his regret and determination. He does not look like the man I saw on the night of my birthday party last year. I shrink farther into the chest of my beloved before remembering that he is probably the most reluctant to be here. Shame rockets through me like ice water, drowning me. My eyes snap shut and I wish to disappear, to no longer trouble this amazing family with my human troubles.

A cold hand grabs my shoulder lightly. "Bella," possibly hallucinatory Carlisle tells me softly, "I have some water. Do you want a drink?" I feel the brim of a cup against my lips, and I nod feverishly, too incoherent from thirst and confusion to say anything. I gulp desperately as the cool liquid falls into my mouth. I had not realized until then how thirsty I am. Going days without water in that cell had definitely not helped my body maintain homeostasis. When the cup runs dry, I whimper with thirst, opening my eyes and looking into Carlisle's eyes pleadingly. The pity in his golden irises brings me a few inches closer to reality, reminding me that I am not a starved animal and that I'm currently being watched by every single one of the Cullens.

I blink, and he's standing in front of me again with a full glass of water. Not wanting to seem completely helpless, I direct my muscles in my arm to reach up to take the glass, but they quickly meet the resistance of my straight jacket. Shame bubbles inside of me again, and I sigh shakily. My throat protests violently, demanding more of the precious water. Thankfully, Carlisle holds the glass to my lips once more, and I accept the water graciously. The cool liquid offers such relief that I know that it is real.

That abrupt realization makes me choke on the cherished water. I cough, forcing the water away from my lungs as my head spins. Carlisle pulls the glass away as soon as he realizes that I'm having trouble with the swallowing part of the drinking process. My beloved pulls me away in the same instant. I struggle in his arms, my drive to get to the water bordering on animalistic. My arms meeting the restraints, I sag with defeat.

His anguished black eyes stare at me, unfathomably riveted. I shrink away in shame, though I am unable to move very far away from the bearer of the strong, deathly white arms that cradle me tenderly. I glance down despondently at the man-made restraints that keep me from wrapping my arms around his neck as I wish. He'd probably drop you. Seeming to have seen my displeasure at the restraints, he slowly moves his hand to gently tear it off. For a fleeting moment, I notice the disapproval of the plainness of the revealed white tank top on Alice's face.

Nearly choking on memories of the myriad of shopping trips Alice dragged me on, I try to drag out the courage to ask the question that will change the course of my future. "Wh-wh-why are you h-here?" I stutter fearfully.

The Cullens glance around at each other for a few moments, panic obvious in their demeanors. My heart sinks; they are not here to stay. "Alice saw something," Carlisle begins, his voice strained and his expression stiff.

"She saw me here?" I prompt anxiously, "And what, you decided to come back and pull me out of the hole you so graciously shoved me in, thinking everything would be okay if you just came back and told me it was all okay again?" I blink back tears. I don't know what's gotten into me; the idea of them returning only to placate the poor little boring psycho girl and then fleeing again at the first chance infuriates me. Looking at all of them now, there is nothing I want more than to have them remain with me forever. Regret is overt on all of their faces, but being ignorant as to its cause irks me even further.

"Bella," Carlisle continues slowly, "We made a mistake, and we are so sincerely sorry I could not even begin to relay the level of our regret to you. We…"

"No, Carlisle," my angel interrupts him, "I need to tell her."

The vampire doctor glances cautiously between us, but nods in the end. He walks over to Esme, and they and the rest of their family turn around cordially. I wonder fleetingly why they do not just leave the room I they wish to give us the illusion of privacy; they'll be able to hear us either way.

My angel breathes in deeply and uses the full force of his eyes on me. The agony there makes me instinctively reach out my hand to stroke his brown comfortingly. As soon as I make contact with his stone hard skin, I begin to pull back, but he moves at vampire speed to stop me, holding my hand against his skin with little more force than a caress. He leans into my hand and sighs softly before looking me straight in the eyes again.

"I'm so sorry Bella. What I did to you was an inexcusable act of blasphemy. I should never have left. After what happened at your birthday party last September, I thought it would be best for you—safest for you—if you did not have a coven of thirst-driven vampires breathing down your throat. I thought I was right, that leaving would protect you," he explains, and his voice, smoldering with anger, is more refreshing than the life-preserving water, "I see now that I was wrong. Dead wrong. Leaving you was the worst mistake of my life. After I had gone, there was nothing, no reason for me to live whatsoever. I wandered around aimlessly, a desolate ghost with no home to go to. Because my home was with you." My heart pounds unsteadily, and my breathing becomes uneven as I struggle to grasp the meaning of his words. "Because I love you, Isabella Swan, and every mile between us was like another day of burning. I have not felt such pain since Carlisle changed me. I knew I could not last long away from you, but I was a coward. I had run away from my fears and then I was running away from the obvious solution, fearing rejection as retribution for my grievous mistake." He closes his eyes for a moment, his mouth morphing even further into a disgusted grimace. "And you might be right to reject me, Bella. What I did was an unpardonable crime against all that is good and right in my world. I can only ever hope that you may find it in your heart to forgive my deplorable sins."

We are the only entity in the world in that moment, for, yes, we are a single entity. The sincerity of his pledge is unquestionable, and I suddenly feel whole again. Edward Anthony Masen Cullen is truly my other half. Grateful for the absence of my restraints, I throw my arms around his neck and bury my face in his disheveled bronze hair. "O-of course I forgive you," I sob joyfully, "I-I-I'm just so g-glad your b-back, and…"

"Oh, Bella," Edward whispers reverently, holding me closely to him, his love evident in his tone and the way he holds me, "I will never leave you again. We'll make it through this; don't worry."

"I love you," I pledge.

"As you are my heart and my soul."