DISCLAIMER: Stephenie Meyer owns the characters. Storyline's mine :)

Also, I'd like to say that I am no medical professional in a psychiatric field and that the therapy sessions between Bella and Edward will be a complete work of my imagination. I'd try to stick to reality as much as possible, getting to know how it works as much as I can, but I'm sure that might be mistakes along the way. I apologize in advance.

EdwardsFirstKiss, thank you a lot for your advice and help!

And thank you all who reviewed!

Now... Enjoy. R.

15. Johannes Bornlof - Liberations

14. CHAPTER

This Was a New Brainwashing Technique

Thursday, February 21, 2013

After I put Alice to sleep, ignoring her protesting cries, I got my bed ready in her guest room. The girls had both taken a week-long holiday off from work just because of me. I was surprised they had gotten away with it, but Newton seemed to not only be pissed off, but also freaked out when he heard about my suicide attempt. So, he let both girls have a week off and now they were on my tail almost twenty-four seven. Rosalie spent the first night with me at my apartment, and then Alice came in the morning replacing Rose who then went to negotiate with Newton about my place at school. Fucking idiot. I still couldn't believe he put me in this position. Though I must admit his condition made perfect sense, Newton didn't realize just how much of a problem that might be for me. I had managed to avoid shrinks for last ten years, so why would I give up now?

But the truth was that Rose and Alice had been bugging me about it since I'd left the hospital and they wouldn't stop until I had one. It annoyed me to no end and I could swear and be grumpy all I wanted, but they never left my side, and their mouths never shut. It seemed like I had no other choice but to find myself a shrink. At least for now. I would bear it. I would endure the torture. Later everyone would see that it hadn't helped and they would stop pressuring me, and leave me alone. I would still get to teach at school and later, maybe when I had their trust, I could attempt to kill myself again.

Yeah, maybe this was what I should do. I had better find someone stupid. Someone new in the profession. Or...

Was I really considering Rose's suggestion?

I mean… I wasn't really. Please... But… If Edward were my shrink - god, only the thought of it made me shiver with dread- I could annoy him to the point of resignation. I knew he didn't like me. Yes, he was annoying too, but at this point, every shrink would be. Soon, it would be him who would give up, because he wouldn't be able to stand me. He might be professional - I didn't doubt that - but not with me. He had almost lost it in the hospital, I could remember his annoyed face while he was pacing from one side of the room to the other with eyes that were digging holes into mine.

It wasn't such a bad idea. And as I had said earlier - I knew him personally. At least to a certain extent. If needed, I could use it against him. Rosalie thought it would help me to connect with him easily, but I had no intention of connecting with him at all. I didn't even consider it to be possible.

Could it really work?

Nah. Too risky. Rosalie said he was good at his job and if he really was, he might end up pushing me into a corner and making me panic. And the last thing I wanted was for him to see me having a panic attack. If he didn't think I was crazy - which I was sure he did - this would only prove that I was. And I wasn't, crazy that is.

Besides, there was a strange emptiness inside of me. As if I couldn't properly feel anything. As if nothing mattered anymore, but not in a devastating and painful way. As if even this nothingness was just another thing that didn't matter. It felt like I was drained of all feelings and emotions. Even the pain, both emotional and physical, exhausted me to the point where they didn't matter anymore.

I stared at the ceiling the whole night. I hadn't slept well yesterday, and I wasn't sleeping well tonight either. Not only was my head buzzing with thoughts and various plans as to how to avoid having to be in therapy, but I couldn't really move in bed either because of my hands. They were fucking painful and aside from taking antidepressants, I was constantly on the highest dosage of painkillers. So yes, my nights were peachy.

I woke up before Alice – naturally - finding myself standing in front of a fridge, trying to bend the fingers of my right hand in a way that would allow me to open it, but not strain the hand too much. I wasn't successful. I couldn't even pour myself a cup of water, for god's sakes. In many ways, I was highly dependent on Alice and Rose.

This reminded me that today I couldn't avoid taking a shower. But I figured I'd take a bath. I'd manage to do it alone – just turn the tap on and let the bathtub filled with hot water. I'd have to wrap the cast and bandage in plastic wrap or something because I couldn't get them wet. I can tell you all these limitations were driving me crazy.

So I as I sat down on Alice's leather sofa, I secretly envied her. She knew I loved it. I turned the TV on and was mindlessly watching SpongeBob when an hour later, Alice stumbled into the living room, her hand in her hair, looking around as if she didn't recognize her own apartment. It took her quite a while until she noticed me, her eyes widening with recognition.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," I said, chuckling slightly. This Alice I could handle. She was hung over and practically useless for anything. It seemed like today I could do as I pleased.

She groaned loudly and fell noisily beside me on the couch, her head on the back with her hand covering her eyes. "Mornin'."

"Lovely morning, isn't it?"

"Shut up. Why did you let me drink?" she asked.

"It's not like we could stop you. You said, quoting, tonight I need it."

"Crap."

And then, remembering last night, there was also something else. "Alice, what was that scary collision thing you mentioned about yesterday?"

She turned her head to me, a corner of her eye peeking out and looking at me. "What collision thing?"

"You don't remember?"

She was silent for a few seconds. "No."

"You do."

"No, I don't," she said, turning away. "I don't remember much."

I was wondering if I should press her to admit that she did remember, but then I realized that it didn't matter. I couldn't care less about her random ramblings. It was weird, yes, but lately Alice was into everything supernatural, so we always let these things slide. It was Alice, after all.

"I need to take pills," I said to her.

"So?"

I was silent.

"Oh, Jesus, Bella, sorry; Rosalie's so much better at this than me," she mumbled, standing up. She went into the kitchen and brought me my pills and a glass of water with a pink drinking straw. Now, tell me – wasn't it just ridiculous? I took my four pills just like I had done religiously for the last few days wishing I could get rid of them soon.

"What time do you want to go to the hospital?" she asked when she sat back beside me. I needed my right hand to be rebound again today.

"Never."

She rolled her eyes. "Bella."

"What? If it was up to me, I would never go there again."

"I'm being serious."

I sighed. "I don't care... When you sober up?"

"I am sober!"

I smirked. "Right. I'm gonna fill myself a bathtub."

"Good luck." I heard her say.

"I don't need your help." I stood up, going into the bathroom. Alice had a really nice apartment. And leather sofa. Her bathtub was also nice, big and comfortable, and even though I struggled with the tap for a few minutes and cursed like a sailor, I managed to turn it on all by myself. Great. It was all about baby steps… Until I had to wrap my hands and wrists in wrap, wash my hair and put shower gel on my body. Fuck.

"Alice?"

Soon, I heard steps from behind the door. "Yeees?"

Smug little imp… "Alice, I need help."

"Do you?"

"Alice, I'm not gonna beg you."

"I think you should."

"Alice!"

"Okay, okay. What do you need?"

"I need you to wrap my hands. And to at least put shampoo on my head," I grumbled, totally embarrassed. The extent to which I was dependent was more embarrassing for me than being naked in front of her.

I heard her chuckle. "Okay, baby. I'll be there in a sec."

And so Alice helped me wash. I tried to do as much as I could myself, but I could still barely bend the fingers of my right hand. Dr. Angelic hadn't said that the right one was damaged, but it sure felt like it. The wound on it was pretty serious though. He said it wasn't deep enough to damage any muscles or nerves, but it hurt like crazy and it would take time to heal. After the bath, Alice let me dress myself or what I insisted on doing alone. There had to be something I could do even if it took three times longer than it normally would. When I came into the kitchen, Alice was standing by the stove in an apron and a spatula in her hand. She was making pancakes.

"Hmm, nice," I said, sitting down on the kitchen stool."

"Don't get excited. It's not like I know what I'm doing."

I chuckled. On our girls' Wednesdays, Alice never cooked. She didn't know how, always ordering pizza or Chinese food. "You're a lost cause."

"Not yet," she said and turned to me, a look of determination on her face. "I need to learn how to cook. Jasper loves food. And women who can cook."

"So, that's why you're making pancakes! And I thought you wanted to make me feel better."

"That's a bonus."

"Oh, by the way, what is going on between you guys?"

Her face lit up. "We've never gotten to it, have we?"

I shook my head. "Spill it, sister."

"So!" she started, sitting beside me, making big gestures with the spatula. "I am totally in love!"

"What?"

"You heard it. I am in love with Jasper. He's the perfect man, Bella. Sexy, intelligent, funny and so good in bed. Bella, he is the guy that has everything. He is my Mr. Darcy, my Mr. Rochester, my Edward Ferrars, my… he's my Emmett!"

"Okay, stop!" I said, my big white hands still wrapped in plastic wrap shooting up. "You've known him for how long? A month?"

"So what? You don't need ages to know that you love someone."

"Relationships like this are sentenced to death from the very beginning."

She raised her brow. "What are you saying?"

"Come on, Alice. I knew James for months before I realized I loved him. And I was blind. And stupid. Don't make the same mistake as I did."

"But I'm not. Jasper isn't James. And – no offense – but I'm not you. I simply know he is the one."

I pretended like her comment didn't hurt. "There is no the one."

"You're saying that now." She wiggled her eyebrows at me.

I only sighed. "This is crazy."

"No, it's not. It's perfect."

I folded my hands under my breasts. "What does Jasper think about it all?"

"He loves me back, of course," she said as if it was already obvious.

I did my best not to roll my eyes. "Alice, I don't think-"

"Stop it, Bella, please. I know your skepticism arises from the many times you were betrayed by men, but this is real."

I sighed deeply. "Okay. I won't say a word. What does Rose think about it?"

"She was making fun of me at first, but she just wants me to be happy. And she loves Jasper."

"Of course, she does." I still couldn't get over the girls' admiration of the Cullen brothers.

"You don't? I mean, I know about Edward but..."

"No, of course I have no problem with Jasper," I said. And I really didn't. But I felt slightly intimidated by the fact that he attended the school I had been accepted to ten years ago and now worked in one of the galleries I had hoped my paintings would be exhibited in. So yeah, I was a little bit jealous.

"Talking about Jasper, you'll stay with me tonight and Rose will pick you up tomorrow morning. Jasper's coming to town this weekend, we're gonna spend it together," she said excitedly, winking at me.

"Nobody needs to pick me up. I can still walk."

Alice rolled her eyes, pointing a spatula at me. "No arguments." She stood up and returned to the stove, placing a pan on it. A few minutes later I was witness to a reckless murder of a whole pancake batch that burned and stuck to the pan. Had my hands been okay, I would've saved them, but my handicap meant a dead sentence for them. Instead of pancakes, we had pop-tarts for breakfast.

Alice took a shower; I unwrapped my hands and then we drove to the hospital. By the time we arrived, I was very grumpy. Alice had completely forgotten about my existence and ignored my sarcastic commentary on the ridiculousness of having to be babysat all the time. Luckily, a reception lady told us that Dr. Angelic was in today, so it wouldn't be such torture to be here. We hadn't talked properly the last time though I wasn't sure if I wanted to know what he thought of me now.

We waited for only ten minutes or so until a nurse called me into an examination room. Shockingly, it was Brenda, a nurse who I remembered was Dr. Angelic's nurse during the time I had been his patient. Some things didn't change.

"Bella! We haven't seen you in a long time!" she said, smiling, after I closed the door behind me. "Dr. Cullen is expecting you. Go, go!" And she ushered me towards another set of doors by my left hand. I opened the door with my elbow and was greeted with the sight of Dr. Angelic sitting behind his desk.

He looked up and smiled widely, making me blush. This man had an ability to make me feel uncomfortable and relaxed at the same time. I felt like he was on my side, yet at the same time I didn't feel like I could let my guard down with him because he saw right through me.

"Hello, Bella."

"Hi," I said inaudibly.

"How have you been?"

I shrugged. "Good."

"Your hands?"

"What do you think? I can't even wash myself properly," I grunted.

"It's just a temporary phase. Soon, you'll start therapy and the movements won't be so painful. You'll need some adjusting, of course, since we don't know exactly how much your right hand is going to compensate for the left one, but you will be alright." He stood up and moved towards the examination table. "Lie down, please."

I silently obliged. He moved a small table on wheels towards us. It had several shelves, filled with various tools, aseptic gauzes, bandages, syringes, little bottles with liquids… You know. Scary as fuck.

He sat down on the chair beside the table, quietly removing the bandage from my right hand. "Have you been taking your pills?"

"Which ones?" The antidepressants or painkillers?

"Both."

"Yes," I sighed. Then he looked up at me as if he didn't know if he should trust me or not. "I swear, I have!"

"I believe you, you know that. I'm just worried."

"There is nothing to be worried about. I'm fine." Then I felt the pressure lessen and cold air on my right wrist as Dr. Angelic removed the bandage. I didn't even dare to look at the wound. I still had stitches in it, by the way.

"Have you decided on what psychiatrist are you going to choose? Has the hospital offered you someone?"

"Yeah, they did."

"And?"

"Nothing," I said, and he stopped working on my hand. I looked at him. "What?"

"You need to get help, Bella."

"I'm fine."

"Sweetheart, this time you won't get away with this." I knew this tone. It was a fatherly tone, scolding me, warning me. And as much as I didn't like it, there was a part of me that wanted desperately to oblige. Because he cared. He cared for me and I didn't deserve it. I wanted to make him happy, maybe even proud of me.

But despite all those feelings, the fear was stronger. "Nobody can help me."

"That's not true," he said, returning to his work. "It is you who has to take the first step. It looks like you don't want to get better."

"I know I won't get better. It's a fact."

"You're not even trying."

"I'm tired of trying. Ouch," I hissed the moment I felt a burning on my skin.

"It's just disinfectant." There was a silence then; an awkward silence. "You know, Bella, I know professionals who might be able to help you. We can work something out together. Besides, I'm sure Alice and Rosalie are looking into it as well. You have many options."

"That I have," I said, sighing, remembering Rosalie's ridiculous idea. "Did you know your awesome son has offered himself to be my therapist?"

Dr. Angelic's movements on my right hand stopped for a few seconds. Then, ever so slowly, I felt the bandage being wrapped around my hand again. "Has he?"

"Yeah," I snorted. Then I looked at his face and saw him frowning. "Rosalie's so excited about it. She' says that he's a great choice because I know him, and I wouldn't feel so uncomfortable with him. She thinks he'll be able to help me," I snorted again.

He didn't say anything. Instead, his frown deepened, his eyes not meeting mine. He secured the bandage in its place and turned away from me, not saying a word. "You don't agree with her," I said. It wasn't a question.

Dr. Angelic turned to me, still frowning. "I think he would be able to help you."

There was something in his voice, something he wasn't saying. "But?"

He chuckled dryly. "But I don't think it is a good idea."

"What? Having Edward as my shrink?"

"Exactly," he said, putting away his tools.

I lift myself up on my elbows. "But you just said you think he would be able to help me."

"That doesn't mean I have to agree with him being your psychiatrist, Bella."

I didn't understand. What was more, I didn't understand why I cared. "Why?"

He sighed. "Edward is one of the best specialists in this area. And I'm not saying it just because he is my son." Sure. "He truly is excellent, and if the circumstances were different, I wouldn't hesitate to recommend him as your first choice. I have no doubts about him being able to help you, Bella. But…" he trailed off, thinking of something, challenged in a way I didn't understand. "Bella, I don't think he's your fit. Medically speaking."

"What do you mean?"

"Do you remember how I told you that a patient and a doctor – especially in a mental health field - have to click together in order to make the most out o therapy?"

I nodded. "You think he's not my fit?"

"Not exactly. This you can find out only by yourselves. But… you have a history together. While Rosalie might think it is good that you know each other, I don't think it would be such a good idea to mix professional and private lives together. It's a conflict of interest. You both have…strong feelings against each other. You are both too affected by the presence of one another. I saw it in the hospital room. And while it would be mainly his job to forget about it, would you be able to forget that he saved your life when you wanted to die?" he asked. "It is your choice, after all. Maybe I'm wrong and you would be able to relax around him. It is up to you."

"I didn't want him, anyway," I said, thinking of his words. I sit up and let my legs hang down from the table.

He sighed. "Don't let my words influence you, Bella. It was just my opinion that doesn't have to correspond with your preferences and feelings. If you genuinely think he would be a good option… You shouldn't take anything I've just said into consideration when making your decision."

I didn't know yet what my decision would be and if I was going to make one. But Dr. Angelic pointed out something I knew was true, although seeing it as something bad was not how I felt about it. Neither did I view it as something positive. What we felt towards each other, Edward and me wasn't anything nice or pleasant. But it was a rather satisfying feeling to know that we weren't impartial towards one another, that we acknowledged each other's presence, even if it was in a hateful way. Somehow, I felt like I needed to be acknowledged by him in whatever way he chose.

Dr. Angelic told me he would be in the hospital tomorrow as well. He handed me a new prescription, and said that these pills should be more effective, and I shouldn't be in so much pain. When I left the room, Alice was waiting for me, playing with her smartphone.

"Done?" she asked when she saw me.

"Done."

We went for a lunch and then to Alice's place again. I didn't want to go to my apartment. I had spent the first night there after being released from the hospital with Rosalie and while there wasn't any evidence of blood or anything else to indicate what had happened on Saturday, I still felt a little uncomfortable being there. The girls didn't say anything, but I knew they must have cleaned everything up while I was still in the hospital.

On Friday morning, Rosalie came to pick me up. It was the first time I had seen her since we had had our little confrontation on Wednesday, but she seemed to be okay. Neither of us brought it up, and that was fine by me. I wasn't angry with her, I knew she only wanted to help, but could you blame me for my reaction? She had freaked the shit out of me. We left excited Alice in her apartment, knowing that she was about to pick up Jasper at the airport quite soon. The same as yesterday, we had gone to the hospital where my hand received a new bandage, and afterward for a quick lunch. We stopped at a few shops along the way since Rosalie needed to look at a few things for her wedding. All the time, she kept repeating: "I' only have three months, I only have three months!"

Plenty of time in my humble opinion.

It was Saturday evening when the devil possessed me. Emmett was working a thirty-six-hour shift, so we had the condo to ourselves. We were watching When Harry Met Sally, and I was putting popcorn into my mouth piece-by-piece when I suddenly looked at Rose who was smiling absent-mindedly at the screen.

"Rose?" I whispered.

"Mhm?"

"Rose, I think I know."

"Mhm?"

"I think I know who I want."

She finally gave me a side glance. "What?"

"I think I know who I want my shrink to be."

That got her attention. She paused the movie and turned to me, squinting her eyes. "If this is some kind of a joke, Bella, leave it, because Harry's now going to run after Sally, and I know just how much you love to interrupt this moment."

She was right. I loved to make her angry by initiating conversations during her favorite scenes in her favorite rom-coms. She was a real sucker for a nice romantic movie. Not really my cup of tea. But this interruption was purely coincidental since I felt like I had just had an epiphany. Or… that devil possession.

"I'm not joking."

She sighed, but I saw she was excited. Of course, she was. Both Alice and she thought they would have to drag me to see a shrink, not that I would go willingly, let alone choose someone myself. But to be honest, I had thought so, too… Until now.

I knew I wanted to go back to school. I needed to go back to school. I missed my kids. Besides, I didn't need to give Newton and Stanley a reason to think I was crazy by not being able to handle this shit. And without a shrink there was no way they would let me return. Furthermore, I had decided it would serve me better if I was a good girl and stop being stubborn for now at least. I could regain the trust of people around me more if I acted sensible. And this looked like a sensible decision to make. What had Dr. Angelic said? That it was me who had to take the first step? Well, I knew I wasn't taking it because I still believed that being in therapy was completely useless. But if I made them think I was taking the first step, I was on my way of being out of their babysitting clutches sooner than later.

"So, who is it? Did you find someone on the internet? Is it someone from the hospital? I knew Dr. Cullen would find someone good for you, he is so generous and kind."

"No."

She frowned. "What no?"

"No. I didn't find anyone on the internet and no, it isn't anyone from the hospital."

"Who is it then?"

And I couldn't believe my own ears when I said it. "Edward. I've chosen Edward."

Tuesday, February 26, 2013 (3 days later)

Rosalie was ecstatic, to say the least. When I told Alice over the phone, I was met with a thirty-second silence.

"Alice? You there?"

"Yes."

"So?"

"Nothing, Bella. I knew you would want him."

I rolled my eyes. "I don't want him." He was a necessary evil I hoped I would be able to manipulate.

"Whatever. You know we love you, right?"

I frowned. "Of course, I do. What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Bella. Just… I know it's going to be hard for you. The therapy. So, whenever you feel like it's too much, just let us know, okay?"

I nodded to myself. "Sure."

"Do you know when's your first appointment?"

"Yes. Rosalie called him on Sunday and he said we can start on Tuesday. He has a private practice somewhere in downtown Seattle. I'm just glad I don't have to go to the hospital."

"Jasper told me Edward's just rented that place."

"I don't really care. As long as I survive an hour in his presence, I'll be happy."

"Do you know how often are you going to see each other?"

"Not yet. I hope not too often."

"Just listen to him, okay? I know it's difficult between you, but…" she trailed off and was silent for a couple of more seconds. "Take it easy. Don't kill him."

I chuckled humorlessly. "Busted."

She laughed. "Please, reconsider. I love his brother."

"Okay, maybe not on our first meeting. I'll do it a week later."

She laughed, but I couldn't make myself. I wasn't even sure if I knew how to laugh anymore.

"Come to my place on Tuesday evening. I'll make dinner."

"Please no!"

"You don't want to come?" she asked, hurt.

I chuckled again. "Yes, I do. Just don't make dinner."

"I don't know why I love you."

"You can't help yourself."

I heard her smiling. "Yeah, that's right. See ya, Bella."

"See ya."

So, here I was. Edward's private practice was located in one of the older buildings in downtown Seattle. It was a very nice building, historically rich, looking more like a townhouse than a complex of several offices in the center of the city. A lady behind a reception desk knew exactly who I was going to see the moment I said his name even though I expected her not to since Alice told me he was new to the building. Seemed like he had already made an impression… Jerk.

I wasn't particularly nervous. It was more like… an apprehension that I felt. I hadn't been in therapy for ten years, and even though a lot of things might have changed since then I was ready to no to let him get under my skin. It was just another crazy psychopathic shrink who was looking for glitches in people's brains even if there weren't any. I could totally do that. I could totally make him go crazy. He wouldn't be able to stand me and I knew it. I just had to find what buttons to push.

I exited the elevator on the top floor of the seven-story building. There were only two doors in the corridor, and the one on the right had two metal plaques on it. The bigger one said: Psychiatric private practice. The smaller one said: Edward Cullen M.D. And under the name was: Psychiatrist.

I shivered. God, this was suddenly so real. Had I said I wasn't nervous? Well, now I think I was. Should I go? Yeah, I'd better go… I'm not sure I'm ready for this… No, Bella, no. Just breathe. It's only that prick, Cullen. You can handle him.

I timidly reached out towards the door and knocked with my right hand. No one answered. I knocked again, a bit louder. Nothing again.

You see, Bella? No one's in. You can go home.

Could I? I knocked again, my heart in my throat and when no one answered, I turned toward the elevator. I was about to push the button to call it when I heard a door open and felt my heart stop.

"Bella?"

His voice hadn't changed one bit. Yes, if I managed to fall asleep, I could still see him – that hadn't changed - but his voice didn't appear in those dreams again as it had in the dream I had had in the hospital a week ago. I turned to face him and there he stood, in the door, his eyes studying me questioningly. He was wearing black slacks and a white shirt with the first two buttons opened. His office must have faced the south, because a rare Seattle sun had found its way there while setting down, the light coming from behind him made his hair shine with a new palette of colors. "Edward."

"Please, come in," he said, opening the door fully, motioning me to follow him. I stepped into the room which looked like a waiting room, with a reception desk, a large clock on the wall, two couches with a small table between them, plants, and even pictures on the wall. The only problem was that it looked too empty. There was no receptionist behind the desk and no patients sitting on the sofas.

"I still haven't opened the practice, but I didn't think you would mind. It will be just the two of us for the first couple of weeks. I have my first patients scheduled in the beginning of April," he explained, leading me through the waiting room towards the door in the corner.

"You could've scheduled me for the beginning of April too." I wouldn't have minded.

"I wanted to, originally. But Rose said the headmaster at your school is pressuring you, and since you are an urgent case, I didn't see any reason why we couldn't start sooner. Please, after you." Polite. Always polite. It reminded me of that night he had driven me home from the hospital… Jeez, it felt like ages ago.

He opened the door to his office and let me go inside first. He seemed like he was a little nervous himself.

"A case, huh?" I snorted, reacting to him referring to me as his case.

He didn't answer. He closed the door behind us and I looked around. It was a nice and inviting looking space. There was a window behind Edward's dark brown desk, a library stacked with books made of the same type of wood. Opposite the library there was a fireplace and an empty mantelpiece. By my right hand, there was a sofa and an armchair and I knew I was about to sit down on it. Or lie down. God knew how it worked these days.

I swallowed hard. "So? When does the torture begin?"

"Let me go through some paperwork first. Have a seat." He motioned to a chair in front of his desk. I took my coat off and sat down. I watched him type something into his laptop and realized that so far he was being fucking professional. His usually expressive face didn't show any sign of emotion and I was starting to think I had made a huge mistake. Maybe I had underestimated him. Oh my god, could you imagine the damage he could do if I wasn't able to watch myself? What things could he discover, what pain he could make me feel if he opened that Pandora box of mine?

I started to breathe shallowly, and clutched the edges of the chair, hissing in pain when I curled my fingers too much.

"Are you okay?" His eyes shot at me.

"Yeah, I'm just… my hands are in pain."

His eyes widened slightly as if he hadn't realized that before. "Do you want some painkillers? I have-"

"No," I interrupted him. "No, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

His concerned face annoyed me. "Yeah, I'm sure. Your dad feeds me Vicodin. Happy days."

He frowned. Hallelujah! This was the first emotional reaction I had gotten out of him. Suddenly, I remembered the way he had reacted in the hospital when I mentioned his father in a rather disrespectful manner. Hmm… Maybe it wouldn't go that badly after all. See? I have discovered his first weak spot. And it made total sense that it would be his father.

And for the record, it wasn't Vicodin. Could you imagine Dr. Angelic prescribing a suicidal patient an addictive drug? I just wanted to make Edward feel a little uncomfortable.

"Okay. But, please, let me know if you need anything." I shrugged. He returned to his laptop and then handed me a few papers. "Could you, please sign these papers?" It was a regular agreement between a patient and a doctor regarding the acceptance of the medical help provided and that all information was protected, etc. You know the drill. I signed the papers and after I handed them back to him, he signed them as well.

"Have you ever been treated by a psychiatrist?" he asked me in an aloof voice while still looking at the laptop. Didn't he know these things? But it was only then I realized Dr. Angelic wouldn't have told him anything. He couldn't.

"Yes."

"How long ago?"

"Ten years."

"Can you tell me their name?"

And then I grinned. "Do you need just the last one or all seven?"

He looked at me and even though his face hadn't changed, it took a moment until he nodded sharply in a 'yes'. So, I recited the seven names of the people who all had made my life even more miserable than it already had been.

"Have you ever been on psychotropic drugs?"

"You mean alcohol? Yes. Frequently. I find it very effective."

"I meant medication. Psychotropic medication normally prescribed by psychiatrists, such as antidepressants, anxiolytics or mood stabilizers." He didn't even flinch, bastard.

I sighed. "For a while, ten years ago, I was taking antidepressants. But I stopped taking them. I don't remember the name."

"Have you been prescribed any antidepressants now?"

I nodded. "Yes. Two." I told him their names. I knew one of them was similar to Prozac, and that I would have to take it for a long period of time to help. The second one was only temporary, something strong and helped prevent suicidal thoughts. If you asked me it was all shit. It was all full of shit.

"Was this your first suicide attempt?"

Something in me hurt when he put it as direct as that. I mean, yes, I thought about killing myself all the time, of what I'd done wrong or what I would do next. But hearing it like that, as if it was a simple truth that everyone around me knew, was making me feel vulnerable. I simply nodded.

"Do you live alone?"

What? "What are these questions?"

"An initial assessment," he said, looking at me calmly.

"Why do you need to know this?"

"I need to know in what environment you live, if you have a partner, what your job is and how these things might potentially affect you. It's pretty basic."

"You know those things."

"I still need to ask. I am your doctor now and you are my patient."

It was making sense, but if I felt violated, god knew what I was about to face. "Yes. I live alone."

"Are you married?"

I rolled my eyes. "No."

"Have a partner?"

"No."

"Any children?"

God… "No."

"Where do you work?"

"I'm a second-grade teacher at a private elementary school in downtown Seattle."

He typed all of the information into his laptop and I wished I could just disappear. "Now I need a contact for your next of kin."

"What for?"

"In case of an emergency."

I snorted. "Like if I attacked you?" He ignored my poor attempt at making him feel off balance. "Please. What kind of emergency can we have here?"

"It's medical practice. I need that information."

I sighed. "I don't have any next of kin." He raised his brows. "Okay, okay. Put Rosalie down."

He typed some more in silence. No questions anymore. Then, he stopped and looked at me, putting his forearms on the desk, clasping his fingers together. "Since I know you attempted suicide a week and a half ago and are on medication, I suggest we meet two times a week for the first four weeks. This way I will be able to monitor you and see your progress in terms of how the medication affects you. If at any time during this period you feel any kind of internal urge to hurt yourself, we can arrange an urgent appointment immediately. There is no shame in admitting that you feel like hurting yourself."

"I'm fine, Edward."

"And also… I would like you to address me as Dr. Cullen while we are in the office-"

I chuckled. "You don't strike me as the type who would tell a woman to call him Doctor Cullen," I said suggestively.

He clenched his jaw. "-and I will address you as Miss Swan. This way we can keep things strictly professional."

"Tell me, Edward. Why do you want to treat me?" He was looking at me and when I said his name, something flashed in his eyes. Not anger, but definitely a slight flash of irritation. He was good… But I was better.

"Your question is irrelevant."

"Not to me," I said. "Is it because you need to chase your patients? Because you don't have enough of them?"

"I don't need to chase my patients." His voice was rigid. I was getting to him.

"Ahh, you say that now. Maybe you're not as good as everyone says. Well, I'll have a first-hand experience, won't I? And I'll be able to compare you to my previous psychiatrists. Wouldn't that just be amazing – to have feedback from your first patient who has a lot of experience with mental health specialists?"

I was on the strike and while he was watching me, searching again in my eyes, looking for something, I felt like a winner. Suddenly, he leaned back in his chair, his face devoid of emotion again. "Do you often use sarcasm as a way to defend yourself and protect your true feelings?"

Whoa. My face froze, and I felt my brows coming together in a frown. "Sarcasm is my middle name. I don't use it for anything."

"Why don't you sit down so we can start? We have a long way to go."

I did as I was told, moving onto the leather sofa that looked as comfortable as Alice's. Maybe even more so, but I would never consciously admit it to myself. He took a clipboard from his desk with several papers on it and a pen, sitting down in the armchair. I allowed myself to exhale a shaky breath and look at him. He was looking at his clipboard, brows furrowed in concentration as he was writing something down. He looked very natural in this position as if he was meant to do this. He was fairly calm so far, but the tension between us was undeniable. I looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. The last time I was in this position I had experienced a panic attack and I had attacked my shrink.

"Relax, Miss Swan," he said in a deep voice as if he knew my thoughts. It was a velvet caress and suddenly it acquired this calming quality he possessed naturally, and I knew it was the way he spoke to patients. He already spoke like that to me in the hospital, kneeling in front of me when I was crying because of Marcus. The only difference between those two pictures was that he didn't guard himself, his eyes searching, just like now, but were open wide and his face showed a set of various emotions.

"So… Is there something specific you'd like to talk about? A place where you'd like to begin?"

I looked at him. "Are we really starting with such a cliché?"

"Yes."

I sighed. "No. There isn't."

He wrote something down. "Let's then start at the end. You attempted suicide a week ago." Oh my god, could he stop fucking repeating that? "Why?"

"Is that your question? Seriously?"

"Yes."

I snorted, and he didn't comment. "I was in pain."

"Define pain."

"Well, there are many different types of pain. Pain a l'ail, pain au froment, pain baguette… Although I personally prefer pain au chocolat. Very buttery in texture, almost like a croissant. But it really depends on-"

"Miss Swan, I wasn't asking you to name all the different types of French bread."

"Really? That's a shame, 'cause we could finally say that we found a common interest. Damnit."

He was quiet for a while. "Do you like to talk about food?"

What type of question was that? "Yes," I answered cautiously. "Who doesn't?"

"Let's talk about food then."

What the motherfucking hell?! I gave him a quizzical look. "Do you want to switch places, doc?"

"No. Lie back down." I rolled my eyes but humored him. "Do you like French cuisine?"

God, was he really asking that question? Or, maybe it was some kind of secret technique… Fuck. What should I say now? Breathe, Bella. Maybe he really wants to talk about food and it means nothing at all. Just calm down. "It's alright. But I prefer Italian."

"Pasta or pizza?"

Jeez, maybe it was one of those quizzes like: Choose your favorite food and we tell you who you are. Oh my… The shrinks were really brainwashing us. "Pasta." Pizza, always pizza. "You?"

He eyed me for a few seconds before he answered warily. I guess he wasn't used to being asked questions. "Pizza." And then, when I had finally calmed down and looked up at the ceiling again, he asked: "If you had a bad day, what would be your comfort food?"

"I don't have a comfort food."

"Everyone has a comfort food."

"Not me," I shook my head.

"So, what provides you with comfort when you feel down?"

I shrugged. "Alcohol, usually. You know… drinking 'til you can't stand straight. And sex. Yeah, usually the combination of both."

And only then I realized what I had just said. What I had just said.

"How often do you drink?"

"Very subtle, nice." And I even gave him a little theatrical clapping with my cast and bandaged hands. Very pathetic.

"What?"

"Don't pretend like you…" I trailed off, groaning. "I don't drink anymore."

"Why?"

"Makes me do stupid things."

"Like what?"

"None of your business."

He was writing something down now. "Do you have a favorite drink?"

"Vodka. You?"

He took a while before answering, but not as long as the first time. "Red wine."

"Nice," I nodded in agreement. Red wine was nice. I liked it myself.

"Any favorite cocktail?"

I thought for a minute before answering. God knew where he was going with this now. "Martini. Bone dry."

"Interesting choice."

I shrugged, all smug. I knew my way around alcohol. "It's a classic. And effective. Though sometimes, a proper zombie is required. Alice loves cosmos. Doesn't really work for me, but that girl is able to get drunk on practically anything."

"Zombie…?"

"A cocktail. A mix of rum, absinthe and falernum. Gives you hangover like no tomorrow. But tequila's pretty awful, too."

"Do you like hangovers?"

"No. Not really, who does?"

"Then why would you drink a zombie?"

I shrugged again. "To get myself wasted more quickly."

He was silent for a while. "What about Rosalie? What is her favorite cocktail?"

"She is a wine girl through and through. She isn't really into mixed drinks. But I cannot say I blame her. These days you rarely find a good bartender."

"So, do you have a club you visit often? A place you know you can order something and it will be served the way it should?"

"Of course, we do. You remember that bar we met in a couple of weeks ago? That's it. There are a few others we frequent as well, but that one is our favorite."

"You said you don't drink anymore. Do you still go there?"

"No, not really."

"So," his voice slowed down, "if you don't feel okay and you don't drink, what do you do? You still haven't found your comfort food?"

I chuckled, my tone sardonic. "No. I just lie in my bed and read a book and try to forget. But it doesn't really help. I usually cry myself to sleep. Or I don't cry. Depends on the day I've had. If Aro Volturi makes me furious, then I usually cry."

"Don't you have someone to talk to about those feelings?"

I sighed. "No."

"What about your friends?"

"They wouldn't understand."

"How do you know?"

I looked at him. "I know. I've been there before."

"Where?"

"In the place where people don't understand."

He was quiet again and in silence, I heard only a tip of the pen sliding down a paper. "Did those people betray your trust?"

I didn't reply. Instead, I felt tears welling in my eyes. I looked away while Edward was waiting and waiting until I heard him say: "I think they did."

I looked over at him again, saw his deep greens searching in my browns. The way he looked at me, so sympathetically and with understanding, made me sick. I didn't need his pity. What could he know about betrayal? He had a perfect life. The darkness that got lost in emptiness I cherished in last few days started to creep in again when I remembered those people. Pain shot unexpected through my chest, tightening my trachea. Thanks a lot, Dr. Cullen. This, indeed, feels like help.

A sudden urge in my voice was hard to overhear. "I want to go home."

He looked at his wristwatch, confused. "We still have ten more minutes."

I sat up. "I don't care. I want to go."

He sighed, eying me quizzically. "Alright, Miss Swan. As you wish."

I stood up, put my coat on and moved towards the door in three sudden long movements. The need to disappear was sudden, instinctual. When I felt the tips of his fingers on my elbow, my breath hitched, and I stopped in my tracks. I turned to him. "Bella, are you okay?"

The concern in his voice was devastating. I swallowed, but my mouth was dry. "I'm fine."

"See you on Thursday, right?"

Magnetized by his eyes, I nodded, even though it was the last thing I desired. "Right."

A/N So, tell me. What do you think?