AN: Thank you for the reviews on that last mini chapter! I think because this scene and the ones that follow will be rather dense, emotionally-speaking, I will split them into smaller chapters than I usually write. Otherwise I know I will spend waaaaay too much time picking them apart and before I know it weeks and months will have passed without an update! I have a lot of opinions/thoughts on how SM handled Bella's depression in the months that followed Edward's abandonment, so expect me to hash some of that out in the next few chapters!

Bella's POV

It had never occurred to me that Edward's family might not know what he said to me in order to explain their sudden disappearance. The idea brought me up short. In a household that included a mindreader, an empath, and a clairvoyant, secrets were rare. Now it sounded as though Edward had managed to keep one from them all. I felt foolish. Could it be that simple? Did they just not know? Was it possible, as absurd as it sounded to me, that they believed I had accepted Edward's decision to leave? That it was a mutual understanding? That I did not stumble through the woods, desperate to find him and never let go? I felt flustered as my mind raced with the new information. Confusion settled over my face as I realized my memory of that time was likely very different from whatever they imagined had happened.

In the days and weeks that followed Edward's disappearance from the woods behind Charlie's house, I could feel myself begin to vanish. Without knowing it, he had taken so much of me with him. I felt weightless. Every gust of autumn wind that rattled my window frame threatened to carry away another piece of me. The half-empty shell that remained was hardly capable of much beyond the bare minimum. A silenced, lucid part of me was disgusted at how I allowed his departure to shatter me so completely; but no matter how badly I wished to be stronger, my body refused to react. Countless days found me sitting, unmoving on my bed, as my inner-monologue screamed at me to just stand up and go outside. Take a walk! Who needs him anyways! Go visit your friends! Or at least sit and pretend to watch the game with Charlie! But the connection between my intentions and my actions must have been severed. Because no matter how many times I screamed internally to just move and live and smile, my body remained frozen. Too tired to move. Atrophy settled over each cell, not unlike the fog that silenced the world outside. It terrified me. But even the terror was not enough to waken me from the fever dream my life had become.

It wasn't until Charlie threatened to send me to Jacksonville that something inside me finally snapped. With more fervor than I'd expressed in months, I refused to leave. The reality of my time with Edward already felt as though it were slipping through my fingers. It became more and more impossible to believe; losing the physical reminders would break me. I needed to see the rocking chair in the corner of my room and remember the sight of him sitting there, his lips turned up in a smile as I entered the room. If I went to Florida it would feel as though I were leaving his world, just as he had left mine. So in order to appease Charlie I began to expend all of my energy on acting "normal". Though of course my attempt to build a normal friendship with Jacob had managed to land me back in a world that was anything but ordinary.

I felt a tiny flicker of hesitation upon hearing Carlisle's request as I worried that retelling Edward's words would be some sort of betrayal. That I was no better than a tattletale. But in the next second I chased away those thoughts because, God, did I want to tell someone. To release the weight of the words and the power they held over me. Even if it was painful. Even if it made me feel more vulnerable than I was willing to admit. Despite my dizzying evolution of emotions there was one feeling that reigned over the others; a sense of relief washed over me at the thought of finally having someone to share the burden with me. Tattletale or not.

I could feel my lips moving. The brush of my teeth against them, the pressure of my tongue against the roof of my mouth. But my mind refused to hear the words that formed. For months I had been trying to stifle them, to hide each painful word away where they couldn't gnaw at my already tenuous state. But now someone was asking to hear them. Someone I cared for deeply. And I could feel as each word gave a mocking laugh and jumped at the chance to break free at last. To be spoken aloud once more, each damaging syllable slipping out with perfect recall. My eyes stared at the dancing flames in the fireplace as my voice, seemingly of its own will, repeated the words responsible for slicing open the gaping hole in my chest all those months ago.

"He said that your family had to leave. That Carlisle, you could no longer pass for the age you claimed to be. He said I couldn't go with you guys, that where you were going was not the right place for me. He said he wasn't good for me, that his world was not for me."

I wanted them to know that I tried to argue back. But I remembered how pathetic I had sounded, every word to Edward a plea. So instead I told them how his eyes had hardened, his voice colder than I'd ever heard. My own eyes closed at the memory, my mind conjuring an image of him as he had been at that moment. The sight of his emotionless expression drained the blood from my face once more.

"He told me he didn't want me to go with him. He said he would always love me…in a way. But he had realized it was time for a change; he was tired of pretending to be something he's not."

For some reason I had been expecting them to interrupt me at some point. My body was tense. Not only because of the difficulty in relaying those memories but also because I was preparing for them to cast doubt on what I was saying. I turned my head quickly to look out the paned-glass window next to me. I could feel the stinging in the corners of my eyes as I tried to hold back tears. Couldn't they see it? He did not want me then. He would not want me now. Panic began to rise in my chest. Anger riding on its tail. Where was the relief that had tempted me into speaking?

"He said that I wasn't good for him. And then he promised that it would be the last time I would see him. That he wouldn't come back. That it would be as if he'd never existed. He said my human memory is no more than a sieve," I practically spat the word, remembering the derisive statement. "He said that time would heal all my wounds." Was the skepticism in my voice as obvious to them as it was to me? "And that even if he would not forget he could at least be very easily distracted."

I paused. A heavy silence lingered in the room.

"So you see, that's the problem. Right now he may be off enjoying his distractions, but he will come back to you eventually. You are his family after all. And when he does, I can't bear to see that look in his eyes again. To hear those dismissive words. Plus, I still hold out hope that once I am changed those memories will fade. But if I have to hear them again once I am like you then they will be seared in my memory forever. I can't take that chance."

The tightness in my chest loosened ever so slightly, relieved and more than a little surprised that I had been able to get through the entire story without crumbling at their feet. And if I was being honest, I did feel the tiniest bit better. It was as though I were no longer the only person to bear the pain from that day in the forest. Someone else knew now, too. Unsure of what to say next, I chanced a glance at Carlisle. My eyes widened. He sat in the chair across from me, his elbows resting on his knees, his face buried in his hands. Unmoving. The stillness of them both put me on edge. I was suddenly very anxious to know what they were thinking. Did they believe me? Would they be angry with me? With him? Esme's eyes relayed her shock and it was her voice that broke the silence.

"Bella."

But I could not bear to look into her pitying expression. I turned back towards the window, only giving a slight shake of my head in response. For months I had been in a constant struggle with myself. One minute, convinced that his words weren't that surprising, for what could he possibly see in me? Then the next minute I would have the tiniest flash of anger, ready to cry blasphemy. But that angry side of me disappeared as quickly as it had come on, replaced once more by sorrow. The ever-evolving thoughts always left my mind swimming. Today was no exception.

In the reflection of the spotless window pane I watched as Esme stood up and took two hesitant steps my way. One of her cool hands reached out and touched my shoulder so gently that I might not have even known it was there if I hadn't seen it reflected back at me.

"Bella," she said again. Her voice was soft. Sympathetic. "I may not be a mind reader like my son nor can I feel your emotions as I feel my own. And I have never seen what is destined to befall us in the future." Esme paused and took a deep breath before coming to stand in front of me, bending down to my level before continuing, "But I love fiercely. I loved you as my daughter the moment Edward brought you to our home. And I never stopped." Her words were so genuine, her amber eyes begging me to believe her. And I did. Tears streamed down my cheeks in earnest.

"Neither did he, Bella. Every word he spoke to you that day was a lie. He loved you then, and he has never stopped loving you since. Of that I am sure."