Quick Warning: This is pretty short and there is some slightly graphic description of Edward's overdose below. Also, you might want tissues.
Anger...
~(~)~
Her gaze travels over his features, taking in the sheer agony and anxiety in his expression. She shakes her head and looks away, unable to tell if he really understands. Sure, he's sorry—devastated even—for what he put her through. But does he even have a clue as to what exactly that was? Of what it was like for her?
The words are out before she can stop them.
"Do you have any idea what I went through?" she asks, her voice low and deceptively calm.
He can see the ticking of her jaw though. An overwhelming sense of dread washes over him as she takes a breath and continues, long-suppressed emotions coming to a head.
"Do you know what it was like for me? After everything we went through? The rehab, the interventions, the divorce? To be the one to find you like that? Thinking you'd finally done it? Thinking I was too late!"
His anxiety morphs into shock at her confession. Guilt, fear and anguish course through him, even as some small part of him knows she probably needs this. Heck... he probably needs this, but that makes it no less painful when she finally lets go.
"Do you have any clue what I went through that day!" she shouts, staring him down and holding him hostage with a gaze that dares him to look away. "You weren't breathing, Edward. I couldn't find your pulse! I had to pull you out of pool of your own vomit just to attempt CPR on you. I... I..."
Her eyes clench shut and he watches in horror as she gets lost in the memories he will never share. He has never once remembered anything that happened that day, or in the days leading up to it. He's only ever had second and third hand accounts because Bella was the only one who really knew and she wasn't there to tell him back then.
Not that he blames her. How can he when it's so very obvious what his self-inflicted brush with death did to her?
Tears spill ceaselessly from the corners of her closed eyelids. She gasps for breath, shaking like a leaf and shaking her head as if she can physically expel the hurt and pain the mere memories cause her.
He wishes she could, wishes it were that easy, and he wishes more than anything that she'd never had to go through any of it in the first place. Sniffling, he watches passively as she opens her eyes and wipes at her tears. Her voice is quiet and raspy when she finally speaks again.
"You didn't move... You didn't respond... Not when I screamed at you, not when I poured water over your head to wash away the vomit... Not even when the paramedics showed up and started sticking you left and right." Every last ounce of anger seems to have left her, replaced by an equally unbearable sadness. "They had to shock you, you know. More than once. When they took you away, I thought that was it. I thought the next time I would see you it would be in a morgue, or a casket."
A shudder runs through him as he pictures it. He can almost see her watching him disappear into the back of an ambulance. He easily imagines her face, her red-rimmed eyes, her arms wrapped tightly across her middle much like they are now. He imagines her alone, terrified, and heartbroken.
Much like he is now.
~(~)~
Ouchie, I know. Just hang in there.