Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, I just play with them. This story is rated M, and is not suitable for younger readers. Story contains violence, coarse language and sexual "situations". Please do not read if any of these things offends you.

Note: [Beta'ed by: adt216]

Chapter 27 – "Start"

Edward Cullen POV

I was furious. Beyond fucking furious. I was… pissed.

No fucking wonder that chick didn't have any friends – she was fucking insane. And what did that make me? She was the only one I had felt I could turn to tonight. I showed her a side of me that nobody had ever seen, a side I didn't even know existed, and she re-paid me by telling me she was going to make me a killer soon. I almost wanted to kill her myself for even suggesting that.

The way I felt when I was with her was like nothing I've ever felt before. And I didn't like it one bit. She was such a fragile thing. I had not a fucking clue about what she had been through, but it was obvious that it wasn't just some normal heartbreak kind of thing. I almost wanted to… help her or some shit. At least do something to get those stupid suicidal ideas out of her head. People shouldn't be fucking killing themselves, especially not when they already had survived so many times… was it three times already?

Maybe the fourth time would be the charm for her?

I plopped down on an empty bench by a bus-stop. I leaned forward with my elbows on my knees and hid my face in my hands.

What the fuck was I going to do?

This shit with Swan was about her mom. So much was clear to me now. Swan had talked in her sleep, and it was what had woken me up.

"Mom… don't do it… Mom… please… make him stop… Mom… you can't do this… Mom, it hurts…Mom…"

The anguish in her voice had given me goose bumps and I had watched her face contort in pain. It was an awful sight, and I never wanted to see that expression on her face again. If that was her just dreaming, I couldn't even begin to grasp what the reality had been for her. The conversation she'd had with her dad at the hospital made more sense now.

Swan had not tried to kill herself – and I would have bet a lot of money on the fact that her mother was somehow involved in what happened to her. This hadn't been just some family argument gone wrong, this was something else entirely.

But that didn't mean Swan had a right to act like such a bitch toward me. She called herself the Goose and a waste of space, because she knew that bugged the hell out of me. It shouldn't though, since that was what I had been hammering into my own mind for so long. She was the Goose, and she was a waste of space, and she would make the world a better place for everyone if she just jumped in front of a freight train.

So why the hell did the mere thought of it make me nauseous now?

It didn't make any sense to me. Nothing made sense to me anymore.

I looked down on my phone and bared my teeth in annoyance. I had several missed calls from my dad from the past few hours. I had put my phone on vibrate before I had entered Swan's house, since I didn't want to wake someone up by my phone ringing, and I didn't want to talk to my dad anyway.

I stared at the phone, just as the display lit up for the fiftieth time with one word. Dad.

I declined the call again, before putting the phone in my pocket and standing up from the bench. It was cold as fuck, and I just wanted to go home and get some fucking sleep. If I was lucky, my parents wouldn't be home yet. But since it was already past four thirty, and considering how the hell I had left things in Port Angeles, they were probably already home and waiting for my arrival.

I took my sweet time, walking casually back home. I wasn't surprised to see Dad's shiny Mercedes parked in front of the house, and that the house was all lit up. I dug my hands deep in my pockets, preparing myself for Operation Ignore-the-Shit-Out-of-My-Parents so I could hide away in my room without being fucking bothered.

Of course, nothing was ever that easy.

I hadn't even taken a step inside the house before my parents came rushing out from the other room. They were still in their fancy Thanksgiving clothes, and both wore worried expressions. Mom's makeup was ruined; she had clearly been crying.

"Where the hell have you been? You have any idea how worried we've been?" Dad yelled, but the anger in his voice was nothing compared to the panic in his eyes.

"Why the fuck would you give a damn about where I've been? Shouldn't you be kissing some rich doctor's wife's ass or some shit?" I spat back, totally forgetting about my plan to ignore the shit out of them.

"Sweetie," Mom said softly, her voice a total contrast to Dad's yelling. She stepped up to me and put her hands on my shoulders. "We've been worried about you. And not just tonight… you're not yourself, Edward. We want to help you, but you won't let us in."

I gave her an incredulous look, shaking her hands off my shoulders and taking a step back.

"I don't let you guys in? You serious?" I snorted. "You won't even fucking listen to me! Dad even asked me if I hit the fucking Goose on purpose! How the hell can I let you guys in if that's what you guys think of me?"

Mom looked confused and turned to look at Dad.

"What is this about a goose?" she asked. Dad sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"It has come to my attention that 'Goose' is what they call Isabella at school," Dad replied in an aggravated, yet soft, tone. Mom looked back at me with a light frown.

"Honey, of course we don't believe you did it on purpose. It was slippery and you hit a patch of black ice; we know that. And we need to move past it," Mom said softly, "but we can't move past it until you open up and realize that you have a problem."

"A problem? So now I've got a problem? Fuck you!" I spat and turned towards the stairs.

"Don't talk to your mom like that!" Dad yelled. I snorted as I started upstairs. "Edward! You can't walk away from this anymore. It's time for you to take responsibility for your actions!"

I didn't answer him; I just kept on walking upstairs.

"Carlisle, it's late; we all need sleep. We can talk about this tomorrow," I heard Mom say softly. Dad just huffed in response.

I didn't slam my door when I reached my room. I was too drained to even make an effort and I found that disturbing.

"It's time for you to take responsibility for your actions…"

I grabbed my hair and pulled at it as I paced back and forth in the room.

Taking responsibility; wasn't that what I had been doing? I kept going back to Swan after all, and I was not going to let her fucking kill herself. Wasn't that taking responsibility? I was trying to be nice to her, but her damn attitude wasn't really helping. She would kill herself, and I was sure that the whole damn world would somehow pin that on me and make it my fault. If – or rather when – she went through with it, the rest of the world wouldn't know that I had known about her plan, but they would still blame me. Why wouldn't they? They knew I had threatened to kill her; they knew I had crippled her for life. They probably thought she had killed herself because she couldn't continue a life as a cripple. And that shit was on me.

I would be her killer in everyone's eyes. No matter what they knew about the situation.

How was I supposed to take responsibility for that? It was a fucking accident that I hit her that night, but it would be no fucking accident if I let her go through with her plan.

I had to fucking keep her alive.

I would not live with her life on my conscience. I deserved better than that.

My eyes caught sight of my trashcan – and the crumbled up paper that laid on top.

I picked the crumbled mess, unfolding it and trying to smooth it out. I already knew damn well what it was, and I knew that shit belonged in the trash. But I kept smoothing it out anyway.

It was the drawing I had made without thinking – the drawing of Swan's face. It felt like forever ago, even though in reality it was only a couple of weeks ago.

Weeks.

It had been weeks since the accident. It felt like days. Or maybe even years.

A lifetime.

I plopped down on the black leather couch by the window and stared at the picture. Now after spending so much time with Swan I realized the drawing was all kinds of wrong – as well as all kinds of right. This was Swan. Not the Goose.

I sighed and folded it nicely, and putting it beside me on the couch.

I was not going to throw that shit away. I had to have it as a reminder of how much she had screwed up my life, and how much power she still held to screw it up even more. I had to keep reminding myself. This wasn't about her – this was about me.

I glanced at the folded piece of paper and frowned.

Denial is a river in you too, douche.

I huffed and rolled my eyes at myself, as I stood up from the couch and walked over to sit by my keyboard instead.

Denial. Responsibility. Idiot.

They were all just words. They had no fucking meaning to me. Nothing had any fucking meaning to me. Everything was what it was and none of it meant anything.

I let my hands hover over the keys, moving them slowly but never touching. Music had abandoned me, just like everything and everyone else. I had fucking nothing. The only constant thing, or person, I had was Swan, and she wasn't going to fucking last. She had an expiration date, and her days were fucking numbered.

I let my hands fall to my lap, and I leaned forward to slam my forehead against the keys instead.

The keyboard wasn't plugged in, so no distorted tones rang out. Just a low thud.

I guess that was my fucking life in a nutshell now: a low thud without meaning or purpose.

Maybe I could strike a fucking deal with Swan – maybe we could do a fucking murder suicide type of deal. I could murder her and then kill myself. Since I would be her murderer anyway, I might as well save her the hassle by taking her life myself.

"Fuuuuuck!" I groaned as I slammed my forehead against the keys again.

I didn't even bother to lean back again. I let my forehead rest against the keys as I felt my heartbeat pound in my ears like a fucking drum.

I promised myself I would never move from that spot. If I stayed in that position for the rest of my life there was no fucking way I could screw my life up – or anyone else's for that matter. If I stayed right there, I would be fine.

And if you stayed right there, Swan would die. So yeah, awesome plan, dude.

So what if Swan died? What difference would it make to me? She's Swan. The Goose. The Thanksgiving-freaking-Turkey. She meant fucking nothing.

Yeah, if that's true… why do you keep going back to her? Why was her window the only place you could think of going when all hell broke loose?

Because I'm clearly fucking insane. That's why.

I didn't know how long I sat like that, like the pathetic, stupid idiot that I was, but at some point I had moved to my bed and passed out. I didn't wake up until hours later. Sunlight was shining into the room through the big window, mocking me with its brightness. I grabbed a pillow and put it over my face to keep the light away. It was then I realized it must have been a knock on the door that had awoken me, because there was another knock.

"Sweetie, you up? You hungry? I've made lunch," Mom said quietly from behind the door.

"Fuck you," I muttered, but my voice didn't carry because it was muffled by the pillow.

"Sweetie, you need to eat, and your father and I would very much like to talk to you," she continued when she didn't get an answer. That annoyed me and I threw the pillow aside.

"GO AWAY! If I want to talk, I'll talk, I just want to be left the fuck alone. Is that too much to ask?" I yelled.

"Edward, why are you making this so difficult?" she sighed.

I didn't have a response to that. I heard her sigh again before walking away. Her steps were muffled by the carpet in the hallway, and soon I couldn't hear her at all. She wasn't even fucking trying. Why didn't she come in, put her hands on my shoulders and just shake me? Why was it so easy for her to give up?

I was once again alone.

Exactly like I was supposed to be.

A few hours later I was so damn hungry that it was to the point of being painful. I had no other choice but to go downstairs to grab something to eat. I made it to the bottom of the stairs when I overheard my parents talking in the living room.

"… don't know, Carlisle, I really don't think Chicago is the right choice here," Mom argued softly.

"I spoke to Aro about it and he knows people in Chicago that are very good at treating these kinds of things… Edward could get help; he could get well. Don't you want that?" Dad replied.

"I don't want to send him away. Why can't he get help here? He's not crazy. He's just going through a phase," Mom argued with an edge to her voice.

"This is not a phase, if he doesn't get help with his PTSD. He needs help. I don't want to send him away any more than you do, but at this point it might be the only thing that we can do in order to help him. It might benefit him to get treatment away from home. He can get away from everything that reminds him about what happened."

"NO! You're not sending my son away, Carlisle. I don't care if it will speed up his recovery. I need my son and he needs me. I can't abandon him. I just can't. He's not going to Chicago. I'm not discussing this anymore."

"Please, honey, be reasonable…," Dad pleaded.

"Reasonable? I'm a mother and this is me being reasonable. Did the scene yesterday go unnoticed by you? Edward is falling apart, Carlisle, and sending him away won't help him. It will tear him apart! If you send him away, then I'm going with him. We're his family, we're not abandoning him!" Mom was crying now. Her voice was shaky and it kept cracking on her words.

"We're not abandoning him if we send him to Chi-"

"No, Carlisle! We're not sending him anywhere. We're a family and we'll get through this as a family. Why don't you take a step back from being a doctor and think like a father for once." Mom sounded pissed now.

"I am a father and I'm trying to do the right thing here." Great, now Dad was getting riled up and angry too.

"No, you're a doctor. You're thinking like a doctor and you're talking like a doctor. You're not thinking like a father at all. We're not sending our son to Chicago. End of discussion."

By this point, I had made it to the living room. I leaned casually against the doorframe as I waited for them to notice me. They were standing by the window. Dad had his arms crossed over his chest, leaning forward a little as he stared down at my mother. Mom held her one hand on her hip and the other was wiping her cheeks of tears. They were too busy being stuck in their bubble to even notice me.

I cleared my throat and they both turned their heads to me.

"Oh sweetie," Mom croaked and she immediately walked over to me. I shook my head as a silent hint that she was not to fucking touch me. She was frowning as she stopped a few feet away from me. "How are you feeling? Are you hungry? I was just about to start dinner. Is there anything special you'd like?"

"How about a Chicago deep dish pizza?" I snorted. Mom turned her head to glare at my father, which surprised me. She never glared at him. They never even fought for crying out loud.

Until you decided that it would be a good idea to kill a turkey…

I flinched automatically by the thought, and the movement didn't go unnoticed by my parents.

"Are you okay, son?" Dad asked.

"I don't know, you tell me," I replied coolly. "Why don't you call the people in Chicago and ask what they think? Huh? Since I'm insane and all."

"Don't be ridiculous, Edward, you're not insane. You're just going through something," Mom said and held out her hand. "Come on, let's get some food in you."

"We're still not done talking about this," Dad said, without moving from his place by the window.

"Yes, we are, Carlisle. I'm putting my foot down on this one," Mom replied in a tone that left no room for argument on his part. He shook his head disapprovingly, but didn't say anything.

I entered the kitchen with Mom. I sat down by the kitchen island and she started to prepare something for me to eat. I watched as she moved around fluidly in the kitchen. She was such a mom sometimes. She always looked so at home in the kitchen.

I wondered how Swan's mom was in the kitchen. Did she make a killer cheesecake too?

Or was she just a killer?

"Where were you?" Mom asked, as she put a glass of water in front of me, before going back to preparing the food. I took a sip of the water and held the glass between both my hands on the counter. I looked down at the glass and huffed.

"Nowhere," I muttered.

"You were gone all night," she argued softly. "How did you get home? Where did you go? Your father and I were home by midnight… and you weren't here… where were you?" She put a plate in front of me with two sandwiches and I didn't hesitate before grabbing one and stuffing my mouth full. She sat down next to me and put a hand on my shoulder. I shook it off me and she sighed deeply. At least she didn't try to touch me again. "Where were you?" she asked again.

"Nowhere important," I muttered with my mouth full.

"Your dad mentioned you stayed with a girl last week… did you go to her?" she asked.

I could answer that question without getting caught. A simple 'yes' would suffice, because it was the truth. But for some reason I couldn't even nod.

"Edward, sweetie, you can't keep locking people out like this. You need to let someone in," she pleaded. Her broken tone made something snap in me and I turned to glare at her. She flinched at the hostility in my eyes and I couldn't find it in me to care about that.

"Let someone in?" I scoffed. "How the hell am I supposed to fucking do that when everybody is refusing to fucking listen to me? My brother thinks I'm a fucking emotionless douche, my friends are turning their fucking backs on me, my father thinks I'm fucking insane and cares more about some other kid than about me, and you… you…" I gestured with my hand in her direction, trying to come up with what the fuck was wrong with her, but I was coming up short.

"And me?" she echoed softly, with a sad smile on her face. "What have I done, Edward? What have I done since you are unable to let me in and let me help you?"

"Nothing," I said with a monotone voice as I pushed my chair back. "You have done fucking nothing, and that's exactly why I can't let you in."

Her eyes welled up immediately and it just pissed me off. What the hell was with women and crying all the fucking time?

Swan doesn't cry…

I froze in my movements as the thought hit me. How the hell had I not noticed that before? Swan had been on the verge of tears a ton of times, but she had never actually shed a fucking tear. What the hell was up with that?

I shook the thought out of my head as I stood up from the chair, grabbed the remaining sandwich from my plate, and started to walk out.

"Edward, I don't know where you went last night… but you did go somewhere, and probably to someone. I know you, you wouldn't have gone to just anybody in the state you left the party in. It must have been someone you trusted…" she said quietly.

I stopped dead in my tracks. Trust.

"Cherish that, Edward. If you went to someone last night, it means you have already let someone in. Deeper than anyone else. Don't throw that away."

I huffed as I left the kitchen and went back up to my room.

What the hell did she know? She knew nothing. She didn't fucking know me.

You have already let someone in…

I refused to believe that. I refused to believe that I had let Swan, of all people, in. Especially considering her current plan.

When I got to my room, I grabbed a DVD without looking at which one it was, and put it in the DVD-player. I needed a fucking distraction. I needed to get the hell out of my head for a while.

I laid down in my bed, and I didn't even notice the movie starting. I was staring into space like a moron. It was ironic, really. I was too distracted to appreciate the distraction from what I needed a distraction.

When I finally began paying some attention – the end credits were already rolling, and the DVD soon set back to the start menu. I grabbed my remote and turned off the TV, before getting up from the bed. I grabbed my jacket, which was thrown over the foot-end of the bed, and left my room.

I walked downstairs and I had not even put a hand on the doorknob before a voice rang out.

"Where are you going?" Dad called from the living room. I turned my head and saw him sitting in his favorite chair – he had a clear view of the hall and the stairs from there.

"Out," I muttered as I opened the front door.

"You want me to drive you somewhere?" he continued without getting up.

I snorted in response and stepped out before letting the door shut behind me.

I walked around aimlessly for a while. I went by the park where I used to play with my friends as a kid. I remembered how Jazz, Em and I used to throw sand at Rose and Alice. They didn't appreciate it, to say the least. And then I went by the school. I sat down on the bleachers by the football field. I leaned forward, as I rested my arms on my legs and stared emptily in front of me. My mind was assaulted by all the "wisdom" people were throwing at me.

"Cherish that, Edward…"

So now I was supposed to cherish whatever I had with Swan? In what fucking universe did that make sense? I groaned loudly and the sound echoed through the empty field.

I leaned back and looked around with frustrated eyes.

Okay. I was going to cherish what I had with Swan. I was going to take responsibility. And I was going to keep Swan alive. Simple enough, right?

I looked down on my watch and rolled my eyes at myself. It had been hours since I left the house. Maybe my dad had it right after all – I was clearly going insane. I kept losing track of time. Blacking out in my own mind. Not able to grasp reality.

Maybe I should go to Swan… she was clearly insane, and I was clearly insane too. Maybe we could be fucking insane together?

It took forever to walk to Swan's house from school – mainly because I managed to get lost. But I finally made it just in time. It was midnight. It was our damn time of day, or night if you will. We always met at night. This was fucking perfect.

No lights were on, other than the porch light again, and I took it as a sign that I was in fact, just in fucking time.

I walked around the house and stepped up to the window of Swan's new room. I could see her sleeping form already and she was back to having that pained expression. Her lips were moving, as if she was mumbling something, but I couldn't make out what.

I was just about to knock when I noticed something.

Nails.

There were several nails hammered down in the window's frame, making it impossible to open. The sight made my stomach drop, and I took one wavering step back.

She wasn't fucking kidding when she said that her window might be closing soon. I guess I just never thought she meant so literally. I never thought she would actually keep me out like this. I shouldn't have been surprised though, considering how I had left things.

I took a step back toward the window and rested my forehead against the cold glass. I stared at the sleeping form as if I could will her to wake. I supposed I could knock, but I wasn't going to do that. I would let her sleep. The nails were her sign to me. She was fucking done, just like I had said that I was.

It was at that moment I realized I wasn't done. Not even close. I hadn't even started yet. I needed to get inside and I needed to fucking talk to her. Not just to save her damn life, but to save my own damn life as well. The only way I could keep myself from losing my mind completely was to talk to someone who wasn't judging me.

Swan never judged. She got angry and shot back when she needed, but she never judged me. Never. And I fucking needed that. I didn't fucking care if she was the Goose, or the Turkey or a fucking Seagull… she was what my mind needed to get some damn peace. And I would be damned if I let that go.

I touched the cold glass with my fingertips and sighed.

I guess I had let that train go. I had messed up one too many times.

I couldn't blame anyone but myself for this one. Swan was fragile and broken, I should have known better than to push her like I had. I had pushed her and been mean to her for too long, I should have fucking known better.

"Fuck, Swan, I'm sorry," I whispered, my breath making the glass fog up for a moment.

I sighed as I took a step back.

I had just managed to close the only window to my salvation.

There was no patch of black ice I could blame this shit on. The only thing I could blame it on was the black hole in my body where my heart was supposed to be.

I dragged my feet as I walked back home. I was so fucking screwed.

x x x x x

Emmett came home on Saturday night. He had a ridiculous goggle-tan on his face after skiing all week. He made wild arm gestures as he told our parents about his adventures and mishaps on the slopes, and he was so animated when he talked – even though it was clear that he was dead on his legs.

I leaned against the doorframe to the living room as I listen to his crazy story. Apparently Jasper and Rose's uncle managed to break his leg. Emmett thought that story was particularly funny.

When he was done with his story, I followed him upstairs to his bedroom. I had decided to swallow my damn pride and try to be his brother again, even though he was a freaking idiot.

Emmett put his duffel bag on his bed and began unpacking. All his clothes were wrinkled, and it was obvious that he hadn't put any effort in trying to fold any of it before packing.

"So, how was your week?" Emmett asked, without looking up at me.

I was standing by his window, so I turned my head to look at him.

"Fine," I replied with a shrug.

"Yeah, and that's why Mom called in tears in the middle of the night when you decided it was a good idea to go MIA," he snorted, still without looking up from his unpacking.

"Did she tell you why?" I asked with an annoyed huff.

"Actually, yeah, she did," he replied, looking up as he scratched his neck awkwardly. "Some bitch was giving you shit at dinner? Right?"

"Yeah, something like that." I nodded and turned back toward the window.

We were quiet as he continued emptying his bag.

"So where did you go?" he asked after a moment.

"Does it fucking matter?"

"Yeah, it does," he said, grabbing his bag and throwing it into his open closet. "We're worried about you, bro. So where the hell did you go?"

He stepped up to me and I looked up to meet his penetrating gaze. He was in Big Brother mode now. He was looking down at me and expecting me to cave to his will just because he was bigger. What a fucking joke that was.

"Nowhere," I said, feeling annoyed. "Let that shit go, already."

He smirked humorlessly and shook his head.

"When Mom called me to ask if I had heard anything from you, I was honest with her. I said you probably just went to some friend or some chick to fuck the angst out of your system… but in more cleaned up language of course. And that would have been fucking fine if she hadn't told me what happened on the way over to Port Angeles." He took a deep breath and sighed. "You didn't get laid, did ya?" It wasn't so much a question as it was a statement.

I scoffed and shook my head.

"Not really," I replied honestly.

"So where the hell did you go?" He threw out his arms in exasperation, almost knocking down a pile of DVD's from his desk in the process. I quirked an eyebrow at him and shook my head.

"It matters so little that it's not even funny."

"If you say so," he sighed, stepping away from me. "So how was your week other than your meltdown?" He smirked at me as he went over to his bed and collected his piles of dirty clothes. "No school… must have been cool? You need a ride on Monday by the way?"

"God, don't remind me." I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. "Going to school with a bunch of inbred dogs, this is going to be awesome." I groaned at the thought and Emmett chuckled.

"Just let it blow over, and if you get your shit together I'm sure Dad can make arrangements so you can go back to Forks. I don't think the Chief can say much about that. It's not illegal for you to go there."

"No, but he can put a restraining order on my ass," I muttered. So? It's not like she wants to see you anyway. I squeezed my eyes shut and pinched the bridge of my nose harder between my fingertips. "And if I get a restraining order on my ass, I'll be forced to change schools anyway."

"That shit is messed up." Emmett nodded. "But if you just let Swan be, then he'll have no reason to do that. He'll have no grounds for a restraining order. He can't hit you with one if you stay the hell away, right?" I sighed and he must have misinterpreted the sound because he rolled his eyes. "Yes, Edward, I know you love to torture the girl, but if you want to get your normal life back, you have to find someone else to annoy or find a new damn hobby. Swan is off limits. You shouldn't mess with her anymore, okay?"

I looked up and met his gaze, once again feeling annoyed by what I could see in his eyes. He was really taking this damn bodyguard and Brother Bear thing too far. But this was the first time that I didn't blame him for doing it, even though I was annoyed by it I also felt oddly grateful for that fact. Swan needed someone to have her back, and Emmett was as good as any for that job, especially since I wasn't allowed to have her back in public.

Have her back in public? Yeah, that almost sounded dirty.

It didn't matter. She didn't want me to have her back anymore. She was done.

"I'm done with her," I said, trying to ignore the weird feeling in my stomach that the words brought. "I don't want anything to do with her." Talk about a lie.

"Sounds good." He nodded and yawned. "It's been fun catching up with ya, bro, but now, get the fuck out. I need my beauty sleep. I'm exhausted."

"Yeah, whatever." I chuckled as I left his room.

I went back to mine and closed the door behind me. My eyes immediately landed on the black leather couch – and the folded drawing of Swan that was still laying there.

I shook my head and smiled sadly to myself as I made it over to my bathroom.

I was done with Swan. Swan was done with me. Everything was exactly like it was supposed to be. I decided that was why I had decided to keep the drawing. It was a reminder of my short period of insanity.

I brushed my teeth and I felt restless as I got into bed, almost as if I was waiting for something. I expected that I was going to toss and turn all night and never get any sleep. Notice my surprise, however, when I opened my eyes and found that it was already morning. I wasn't feeling so good, though. I still felt restless and a feeling of dread was consuming me, as if I had just woken up from a nightmare or something, even though I couldn't remember having dreamed anything.

I went downstairs after my morning shower, and as I walked towards the kitchen, I heard voices coming from Dad's office. I couldn't make out what they were saying, but I could tell it was Dad and Emmett.

I didn't bother to stay and eavesdrop; instead I kept walking to the kitchen. Mom was there, leaning casually against the counter, reading one of her usual magazines about interior design. She looked up and smiled at me.

"Morning, sweetie, how you doing?" she asked softly, though she sounded somewhat hesitant, as if she didn't want to know – or as if she was afraid of the answer. I muttered an incoherent response and stepped over to the fridge. I groaned when I didn't find anything good enough to eat… hell, I couldn't find anything to eat.

"Why the fuck don't we have anything to eat in this fucking house?" I asked irritated.

"Language!" she chided with a smile, and shook her head. "Emmett was hungry when he woke up this morning. I guess he might have gone a little overboard."

"I'll say," I sighed and slammed the fridge door closed.

"Why don't you go to the grocery store? I was going to go, but I'm swamped. I have to prepare for a presentation I have tomorrow," she said and put her magazine down. I glanced at it and smiled crookedly when I saw what page she had been reading. It was an article about the concert hall she had designed the interior for. At least she was good at something.

She walked around the kitchen island and grabbed her purse. She rummaged around for a bit before picking up a hundred dollar bill. She handed it to me and nodded towards the fridge.

"Grab the list. I think this should cover it," she said with a smile.

I took the list from where it sat on the fridge door and frowned.

"Eh… Mom? I can't take all this shit on my bike," I said hesitantly.

She tilted her head to the side.

"I'm sure your father won't mind if you borrow his car," she said.

She left the kitchen and I stared at the hundred dollar bill that I had in hand and the grocery list in the other. So I was going to drive to the store. No biggie.

I rolled my shoulders a little as I kept telling myself it was no big deal. Yeah, Dad's car was a piece of shit car and didn't drive as well as my Volvo. But I didn't have much of a choice in the matter now, did I? I needed to go grocery shopping, because I was fucking starving and I needed food.

I walked to Dad's office and pushed open the door without even knocking. Dad was sitting behind his desk, and Emmett was sitting in one of the visitor's chairs. Both looked up in surprise when I barged in.

"Mom wants me to drive to the goddamn store since Emmett ate us out of the goddamn house, can I borrow your goddamn car?" I asked with a tired sigh. Dad looked surprised but nodded.

"Yes, of course, the keys are in the bowl by the door."

I walked back out, grabbing the car keys from the bowl. It was cold, and my breath came out as puffy clouds. I walked casually towards Dad's shiny Mercedes, while trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling that I got in my gut as I came closer.

I pressed the button on the automatic keys and the low sound of the car being unlocked was followed by a couple of flashes of the lights.

I tried to swallow down the lump in my throat that I didn't even know was forming, as I stepped around the car to the driver's side. I didn't know why I was feeling so uneasy; it was just a damn car. I should have been happy to get behind the wheel again – even if it was in my dad's lousy ass Mercedes and not my beloved Volvo. This way I had full control over the situation. My life would not be in the hands of someone else.

This was great.

My hand was shaking as gripped the door handle and opened the door. I got inside and slammed the door shut, all in one fluid movement. I adjusted the seat, set the mirrors to my liking and put on my seatbelt, before putting the keys in the ignition.

My fingers were ready to turn the key and let the engine roar to life with a soft purr. But my fingers weren't complying. They didn't want to turn the damn key.

"It's just a fucking car. Fuck," I groaned to myself. "Just turn the damn key, drive to the damn store, buy some damn food, then drive the fuck home. How fucking hard can it fucking be?"

It was nothing but the pure frustration I felt for my stupid reluctance that made me turn the key. My body froze almost instantly as the car roared to life with me inside. I took a deep breath and breathed out slowly. This is ridiculous…

I put the car into gear and put my foot on the gas.

My hands gripped the wheel tightly as the car slowly moved forward.

Suddenly I was not on the driveway anymore. It was dark and I was moving forward on an empty, dark street. The street sparkled occasionally, where the ice and frost had settled. I tried to squint in the darkness; it was impossible to see anything in front of the car. I sighed and turned on the high beams, hoping that would clear the darkness in front of me, helping me see more clearly.

That was when Swan suddenly appeared right in front of the car.

I stomped on the breaks just as Swan hit the windshield with a deafening crash.

I didn't even realize I had stopped breathing until I was beginning to see black spots. I tried to blink and shake myself out of it, but it was fucking impossible. I was losing all sense of my surroundings, the dark road was gone as was Swan – all I could see was the windshield.

Is that blood on the windshield? That's fucking blood. There's blood fucking everywhere…

A weird, claustrophobic feeling washed over me with such power that it rendered my mind blank and frozen. I was not aware that I had let go of the wheel, and my fingers were now tightly gripping my hair. I should have felt pain by the way I was pulling at my hair, but I couldn't feel a fucking thing.

Did I kill her?

A high-pitched shriek echoed in my head and I squeezed my eyes shut, as if that would shut out the sound. I rocked back and forth, the shrieking in my head blending together with a low whining noise. Panic surged through me and the harder I squeezed my eyes shut the more vivid the image before me became.

There was blood fucking everywhere. Her blood. My blood. Our blood.

My throat was hurting and it felt as though my heart was beating its way out of my chest – or as if it had stopped beating altogether. It was hard to tell.

There was another whine.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…" I think it was coming from me, but I couldn't be sure. It didn't sound like me. I couldn't even hear properly anymore. It felt as though I had been engulfed in a bubble. The outside world didn't matter anymore. The only thing that mattered was me and the image on the back of my eyelids.

Swan… fragile… broken… blood everywhere…

She's making me a killer. She's going to kill herself. There was so much blood, so much damage done, but she fucking survived. She survived! That must fucking count for something!

But there was so much blood… she shouldn't have survived… so much blood…

There was no more shrieking in my ears there was no sound at all. The echo had died down, and the only thing I was hearing was… nothing. It was a dull silence.

She fucking survived… she shouldn't have. But she did.

There was a whimper.

I was no longer aware of my own damn body. I wrapped my arms around me in my mind and tried to keep myself together. It felt like something was about to break away, and I had to fight to keep it in place. I couldn't lose anymore. I wouldn't survive. And if I didn't survive, neither would Swan.

The only thing that mattered was me… and Swan.

I was assaulted by the image of her broken body with a leg twisted at an awkward angle, all covered in blood. I wish I could have said that it was just a flash of an image, but it wasn't. This image was kept in place, and I couldn't look away from it. I couldn't look away from my own mind.

I had broken her. Mentally. Physically. I had almost killed her, but she survived.

She had to continue surviving.

Nails be fucking damned. She was not going to keep me the fuck out. She didn't have the right to do that. The day she told me she was going to take her own life was the day she gave me the right to stop her. The right to keep her breathing.

I tried to take a deep breath, but my lungs didn't agree. It almost felt like they didn't know what they were supposed to do with the air. It felt weird. Almost as if the air wasn't supposed to be there. There was a pressure against my chest and it kept the air from filling my lungs fully, leaving me breathless, weak and drained.

I was exhausted. I just wanted to curl up in my bubble and never leave.

If I just somehow could bring Swan into this place, then I would be fucking fine. That way I could keep my eyes on her and make sure she didn't screw my life up any more than she already had.

I could keep myself safe from the scrutiny and doubt of my family and friends, and I could keep her safe from her fucking family too, and from vicious bitches like Tanya. I could keep us both safe from life that was only waiting to screw us over even more. Like we both hadn't been through enough already.

I can keep us both safe…

Safe…

I wanted to keep the Goose safe.

For some reason that thought didn't bother me so much anymore. It was just… natural. She was going to die if I didn't do anything, and it would make me responsible. It was like the time she had almost choked during lunch, and people had just stared at her, laughing and pointing. She could have died that day too. And if she had, then it would have been on all of us. Everybody that had been sitting outside, watching her choke, would have been responsible for letting her die. Everybody had a fucking choice to take a step forward and help her. But no one did. Except Alice.

Alice had saved her life and Emmett was protecting her.

I wanted to do both.

I took another breath; this one easier than the last. It didn't feel like there was a pressure on my chest anymore. I could fill my lungs with the air that they so desperately craved. I breathed slowly, and with each breath I became more aware. My senses were coming back and my bubble was slowly losing strength. I was no longer protected.

I could hear a soft humming sound, and as I slowly was brought back to the surface, I could feel someone softly drag their fingers through my hair, trying to smooth it out. I frowned at the feeling.

Where am I?

I slowly opened my eyes and blinked a few times. I was surprised to find my mom looking back at me.

"Hello, sweetie. Welcome back," she said softly.

I looked away from her and realized I was in my room and in my bed. I looked back at her with a confused expression and I could see tears welling up in her eyes.

"What the fuck?" I groaned, my voice hoarse.

"Oh sweetie," she whispered. "You had… you…" her voice cracked and she brought her free hand up to her mouth to cover her light sobs.

I was beyond confused. I had what? At that moment Dad entered the room. "Is he awake?"

Mom smiled and nodded as she reluctantly left the bed. I tried to sit up, but Dad was quickly by my side and pushed me back down.

"No." He gave me a look that showed that he meant business. I sighed and laid back down. He smiled a tightlipped smile and frowned a little. "How are you feeling? Dizzy at all?"

I took a moment to feel whatever my body was feeling, and realized that I was indeed a little dizzy. And my head hurt like all hell. I groaned again and tried to massage away the headache by massaging my temples.

"Yeah, I figured." He sighed and handed me a glass of water and a couple of pills. "Take these. It will help with the headache and it will help you get some rest… I think that's the best thing for you right now."

I threw back the pills and swallowed them with a deep gulp of water. My headache was no joke and I needed to get rid of it. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand before giving him a puzzled look.

"What the fuck happened?" I asked. His frown deepened and he looked as if he was in pain. He sat down on the bed and turned his body toward me, clasping his hands in his lap.

"Edward, I really wish you would agree to go into therapy," he began softly, and he quickly continued when I opened the mouth to speak. "Now, listen to me, Edward, you need help with what you're going through. This is not my area of expertise, and I would not be able to be objective if I was to help you myself… you are my son. I want to help, but I can't. The only way I can help you is to have you speak to someone else."

"What is there to talk about?" I muttered and Dad sighed.

"You have no idea how much I would have liked to bring you straight to the hospital, but I had a feeling that would have made it even more difficult to convince you," he said as he looked at me. He smiled sadly when he noticed that I didn't have a fucking clue about what he was talking about. "Edward, son, are you aware of what happened?"

At first I didn't know what the hell he was referring to. He couldn't have been talking about the accident, because there was no reason why he would ask me that. So he must have been talking about something else… but what?

Shit, wasn't I supposed to go somewhere?

How the hell did I end up in my bed, anyway?

As if on cue, my stomach grumbled and it all came back to me. It was as if someone had tipped a bucket of ice water over my head. Dad saw realization hit me, and he nodded softly to himself.

"It wasn't very pleasant, was it, Edward." It wasn't so much a question than it was a statement. I usually hated when he acted as if he knew everything, but I was too tired and confused to argue with him this time. "That will continue to happen to you if you don't get help."

"I'm fine," I argued, even though I didn't even believe it myself.

"No, you're not."

"Of course I'm fucking fine. I was just… just…" I didn't know how to end the sentence. How the hell could I explain why I had blacked out behind the wheel and succumbed to the darkness of my own mind? There was no reasonable explanation for that. My mind was fucked up.

"Why don't you rest, and we'll talk about this later?" he suggested, patting my leg.

He stood up from the bed and walked over to the door. He was just about to exit when I opened my mouth.

"How long was I out?" I asked in a quiet voice.

Dad looked back at me with a sad smile.

"About two hours," he replied softly. "Now, sleep."

He left the room and closed the door behind him.

I felt the pills take effect, and it didn't take long for me to once again fall into the darkness. But this was the good kind of darkness. It was the darkness of unconsciousness. I didn't feel a thing there...

The pills knocked me out cold for hours. When I did wake up, the blaring red digits of my alarm clock told me it was already after six in the evening. I climbed out of bed, my body still feeling a little off after the sedation. My mouth was dry and it tasted like shit, so I went into my bathroom to brush my teeth and get some water. I didn't feel so hungry anymore; the hunger was just a dull ache in my stomach now. Which was good, since I really didn't feel like eating right now anyway.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror above the sink and snorted at the sight.

I was a fucking mess. My hair was standing in every direction, my skin looked pasty and disgusting, and my eyes were bloodshot. It looked like I had been partying for two days straight.

Yeah, what a party, alright.

I dragged my hands through my hair and sighed deeply. I tried to remember what had been running through my mind when I had blacked out, and all I could see was Swan.

"Cherish that, Edward, if you went to someone last night, it means you have already let someone in. Deeper than anyone else. Don't throw that away."

As I looked at myself in the mirror, it was almost as if I could see her face too. As if she was standing right behind me. I looked at the spot where I imagined she was standing and smiled sadly.

How things had changed…

I exited the bathroom as I figured I might as well go downstairs and get something to eat. It didn't matter that I didn't feel like eating; I knew I had too. I needed food in my damn stomach if I was supposed to have the energy to go over to Swan's place later.

I chuckled and shook my head at myself, as I walked down the stairs.

I'm actually going to force feed myself, so that I won't pass out on my way to Swan's house.

And that was a sentence I never thought I would say… or think…

My parents must have heard me coming, because they were both standing in the living room and looking at the doorway when I entered on my way to the kitchen.

"We have any food?" I asked. Mom nodded and walked before me into the kitchen. I realized that they had already eaten an early dinner, which we usually did on Sundays. I let Mom prepare a plate for me, and I sat down by the kitchen island.

"How are you feeling?" she asked. "You feel like talking?"

"I feel like eating," I replied with a casual shrug.

She threw me a glance over her shoulder and smiled sadly.

"Edward…" she began and I shook my head. I tried to smile to show her that I was not ignoring my issues; I was just hungry. She smiled softly back at me, and I knew I had appeased her.

Mom put down the plate of food in front of me and I devoured it as if I hadn't seen food in days. She didn't leave the kitchen and she just watched me eat. Dad entered too but didn't say anything. I saw them share a look, and Mom shook her head at whatever silent question Dad had asked.

When I was finished eating, I muttered a thanks and left the kitchen. I heard them speak when I left, but I didn't stay behind to eavesdrop. I had somewhere more important to be.

I went back to my room to grab my jacket, and I met Dad on my way back downstairs. He looked confused when he saw my jacket.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"Out," I replied. I put on my jacket as I walked down the stairs and Dad followed.

"No, you are not. I thought we were going to talk about this," he argued.

"Nah, I'm not really feeling it," I said with a smirk, feeling amused by the anger that I saw flash in his eyes before he covered it up with his concern. I was feeling giddy for some reason, and I guess that was why I decided to fuck with him, just for the hell of it.

He didn't seem to enjoy it, though.

"Edward, you're not leaving this house. You need to rest and we're going to talk," he said as he grabbed my wrist on my way out. I tried to pull my arm back, but his grip was surprisingly strong.

"Yeah, I am going out," I said. "I need some fresh air."

"There is fresh air on your balcony or in the backyard. But I have a feeling you're going somewhere further than just the backyard. Am I right?" he asked with a frustrated voice.

I tried again to pull my arm back, but he kept his grip. I sighed and glared at him. He didn't even flinch and just stared emptily back.

"Stop running away, Edward," he sighed.

"I'm not fucking running away!" I snapped, all giddiness gone and anger taking its place.

"Go to your room, or do you want me to ask Emmett to carry you?"

I looked at him incredulously and he just quirked an eyebrow at me, silently challenging me to challenge him. It was all fucking backwards. I groaned and tried to pull my arm back a last time. This time he did let me go.

"Fine," I snapped and stomped my way up the stairs. He muttered something under his breath, and I was sure it had taken a lot of effort on his part to keep from saying whatever he wanted to say out loud.

I slammed the door when I got back to my room, and I started pacing back and forth. I needed to get the fuck out of this house. I needed to see Swan.

But just as the thought hit me I realized that it wasn't fucking possible for me to see her now anyway. It was six thirty. There was no way for me to see her at this time. Her parents were most likely awake, and if her dad spotted me I would be fucking dead meat.

I had to wait.

And wait I did.

It was just past eleven when I couldn't take it anymore, and decided to get my ass out of the house. Once against I was forced to play ninja, because my parents had yet to go to bed. I could hear them watching a movie in the living room, so I quietly moved to the front door and opened it quietly. I didn't bother to stick around to make sure they hadn't heard me – I all but ran down the damn driveway and into the woods.

As I made it down to the main road, I got a weird sickening feeling in my stomach – but it wasn't the usual nausea, it was something else. I soon recognized it as dread.

I had to move quicker.

I didn't even need to think what way to take to Swan's house now. I didn't need to worry about getting lost again. My body and my mind knew the route by heart, and it was good that they did. Had I gotten to the house only five minutes later, I would have been too late.

The light was on when I neared the window; I took that as a good sign and tried to ignore the feeling of dread I had in my gut. She was awake; that was good. It meant I wouldn't need to wake her and risk having her parents wake up as well.

I walked up to the window and found Swan sitting on her bed. She was awake, but that was not all. She had propped a chair up against the door – hindering anyone from coming inside, and she was looking down on a bunch of white pills in her hand.

She looked… defeated. And not just the "I'll-come-back-around" kind of defeated, but "this-is-fucking-it-I'm-giving-up-now" kind of defeated.

I just stared at the sight before me, unable to move or speak or do anything. I was staring at her like she was staring at her pills. Neither of us was moving; it was as if time stood still.

She picked up a few pills from her hand and my eyes widened when I realized what she was going to do. She raised her hand and was just about to throw the pills into her mouth when I finally got control over my body again. I slammed my hand against the window; it was nothing short of a miracle that it didn't break.

Her eyes first flew to the door before she turned her head to me. She looked terrified.

You better be, you stupid goose!

"Swallow those pills and I swear to fucking God I will kick this window in and stick my arm down your throat and pull them back up myself!" I was barely able to get the words out. I was so fucking pissed that I was consumed by it. I gripped the window sill and almost bared my teeth at her.

"I can't open the window," she said.

As if a window would keep me out.

"I fucking know that already. Those fucking nails speak loud and clear, thank you. Now, tell me how the fuck I can get inside."

"You're signing your own death sentence," she warned me with a sigh.

So now she was worrying about my life? Pft, yeah right. If she was worrying about me and my life or my death sentence, then she wouldn't be fucking doing what she was doing right now. I took a deep breath and tried to get the anger under control.

"Yeah, and by not coming in I'm signing yours. So, let me the fuck in already," I replied with the calmest voice I could muster.

"There's a turtle by the backdoor to the kitchen," she sighed. I nodded and stepped away from the window.

The turtle by the kitchen door was easy to find and I turned it over, grabbing the key from its place. I quickly unlocked the door before putting the key back.

I barely glanced around the Swan house as I moved towards Swan's room. It was a sad excuse for a house; it was small and cluttered with stuff. But somehow it felt homey too. Homey but empty. If that made any fucking sense. Almost as if they strive to get a homey feeling, but the family that lived there couldn't bring it to life completely. It all felt… fake.

Swan's dad snored loudly upstairs, and I was glad that we would at least get a warning if he woke up. I made it to the room and I didn't dare to knock this time.

"Open the door," I whispered against the door.

I waited patiently as I listened to Swan move around in the room and remove the chair. She opened the door and walked back to the bed. I looked at the chair, almost wanting to smile at the cliché of it all. I closed the door and put the chair back in place.

We're in our bubble now.

We're safe.

I noticed Swan looking at me and I smiled crookedly at her.

"You seem paranoid… Nailing down the windows and barricading the door like this." I glanced at the pills that were now spread out on the bed. I was almost too late. Five minutes would have been enough. The thought made me sick. "I guess you didn't want to get interrupted."

She looked uncomfortable and started to collect the pills, putting them back in their container. "What do you want, Edward? I thought you were done with this… with me… whatever."

Defeated. There was no other word to describe her at that moment. Everything about her screamed defeat.

I sat down on her bed and scooted back so I could lean against the wall. I watched her every movement as she put the pills back where they belonged – in the drawer, and not in her system. She sat down on the bed, and I tilted my head as I looked at her.

"So, Swan, what brought you over the edge tonight?" I clasped my hands in my lap. Trying to channel my inner shrink in a sad attempt to lighten the mood a little. But as I asked, I felt that there was nothing light about the situation at all. It just frustrated me because I really needed to know. "Why tonight? Why not Thanksgiving? Why not yesterday? Why not this afternoon? Why fucking now?" I tried to keep my voice calm and detached. I needed to look at this from an outside point of view, or else it would fucking eat me up inside. I didn't know how to fucking react to the fact that she had actually tried to… shit. I couldn't even think it. It was all so fucked up. There was one thing to know about her suicidal thoughts in an abstract way; it was a totally different thing to actually witness her trying. It made it real. Before it had been just a silly thought, and now it was reality.

She looked up to meet my gaze and I tried to keep my eyes cold. I needed her to understand that I was fucking pissed that she was going to give up. But her face was enough to make my resolve crumble, and I felt almost as defeated as she looked.

"C'mon, Swan, what the fuck?"

"I could ask you the very same thing. You said you were done, why did you come back? Why tonight?"

"I asked first." I smirked softly. "C'mon, Swan, what do you got to lose? Your heartbeat is all you got left… right? Trust, remember? I got your back."

She smiled sadly, and I could feel her reluctance to trust me. I couldn't blame her for it either; she had no reason to trust me. Especially not after leaving like I did. She seemed to have an inner argument with herself, and when she opened her mouth, I was prepared to hear her tell me go to hell.

"Jacob drew on my cast… I guess I just didn't agree with what he drew."

I was momentarily confused at her random comment, and then I realized what the fuck she had said. And why. She was letting me in. She had forgiven me for being such a fucking ass-hat a few days ago. This was a breakthrough.

But then I realized what she had said, and my eyes immediately went to her cast. I leaned forward to get a better look and I pursed my lips as I studied the drawing. For some reason I found it fucking disturbing. Who the hell draws two rings and writes "Forever" on someone's cast when they're only teenagers… and not even together?

She didn't like the drawing, and that meant I didn't like it either. She almost killed herself over whatever feelings this shit brought her – and I wanted to strangle the dog for it.

"Okaaay… What the hell was he thinking when he did it? Was it supposed to be a fucking joke or some shit? Because I couldn't see the punchline. It's not fucking funny." I tried not to let my anger shine through again. I met her gaze and saw that her eyes were watery with tears. But no tears fell over. She didn't cry. I couldn't stand to see her like this, so I looked back down. "This shit won't fucking do. This shit is fucked up."

"There is nothing I can do about it now anyway, is there? It's not like I can wash it all away and pretend it never was there in the first place. It's permanent."

She gestured to the cast with a disgusted look and I wondered what had happened between them to make her feel so strongly about this. He must have really fucked up if this was what pushed her over the edge. Nothing had been easy for her. Somebody should have been there for her.

I'm a douche.

She chuckled humorlessly and I looked at her.

"Don't I know it," she said. I smirked darkly and chuckled too. I shook my head at myself as I realized I had spoken the words aloud and not just in my head.

"I guess there is more to some people than what I thought. All people aren't shallow pools, like Tanya or Lauren or anyone else in the Skank Pack."

"You have been living in a bubble, Edward. A bubble made of titanium or something. You never had a reason to see past the looks of people. You never needed to really get to know anyone. You are popular; people love you. They let you get away with your douchy ways because they love you. I would never have gotten away with behaving like you do."

"And that's what's fucked up. Some things wouldn't have happened if some people had some fucking backup," I muttered, and she looked up to meet my gaze.

"And by some people you mean me."

"That's exactly what I mean."

We both looked down on her cast, and I resisted the urge to spit on it. That Jacob punk had defiled my mark on her. My mark. She didn't want it there, that much was obvious. And I sure as hell didn't fucking want it there. His drawing didn't belong on my mark.

Why did she let him draw that shit? Who the hell was he to her anyway?

"Did he used to be your boyfriend or some shit?" I was beyond annoyed. And the annoyance was mixed with a feeling I didn't recognize. Whatever it was, though, it wasn't pleasant.

"No… we used to be best friends… then he did some things that… well… things that friends just don't do. I haven't spoken to him in months… and now he waltzes into my life, acting like everything is alright and that nothing ever happened… I hate that guy. I loathe him with every fiber of my being."

"He must have really fucked up," I noted, as my mind tried to come up with something bad enough that he could have done to make her hate him so much. But I couldn't come up with anything that sounded plausible, especially since he hadn't been her boyfriend. If he had been her boyfriend, it would have left him room to betray her in more ways than one.

"You have no idea," she whispered.

"But if you guys were only friends, why the hell would he draw something like that on your cast?" I asked, gesturing towards the disgusting image. She squeezed her eyes shut, not even wanting to look at it. Why the hell did she fucking let him draw that shit?

"You wouldn't understand," she whispered.

"Try me," I challenged.

"No."

"Trust me."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because you left. You said you were done."

"I came back," I concluded, smiling crookedly at her and hoping that she wasn't going to close the window on me again.

"Edward… why do you even care? Why tonight?"

There was a hidden meaning behind her words that did not go unnoticed by me. She wasn't asking why I had come tonight; she was asking why I had stopped her. Why I didn't just let her die.

Was it all about the fact that I didn't want to be a killer? Or was it about something else?

I put my hand between us, palm up. I didn't dare to look at her. Mom said I had let Swan in, maybe it was fucking time to show her that too. I needed her, and I needed her to know that. This was all I had to offer. She put her hand in mine and a weird feeling of finding home washed over me. I felt oddly at ease.

"I was supposed to drive to the store today to pick some shit up… I… I didn't even make it down the driveway… My dad thinks I need help… professional help. He thinks I'm suffering from post traumatic stress disorder… he doesn't know how to help me, because I'm his son and it's not his area of expertise." I swallowed thickly before finally meeting her gaze. "He thinks I've gone insane or some shit."

"Have you?" she asked, but not in an offending or judging way. She was just asking.

"I think I have. I keep coming back here, for crying out loud… how is that not fucking insane?" I chuckled humorlessly and shook my head at myself.

"Billy Black, who was sleeping on the couch when you were her the last time, heard you. He told my parents that you had been here, that's why my dad nailed down the window. I didn't tell them it was you, though. I figured it was the least I could do if I was going to make you a killer."

My heart skipped a beat and an overwhelming feeling washed over me like a tsunami. I didn't know what the hell it was, but I took it. She hadn't shut me out – her Dad had. And she had protected me even though I said I was done. She still had my back, despite it all.

She had fucking let me in.

"You're not going to make me a killer." There was nothing I had ever felt so sure about in my entire life. Swan was not going to kill herself, because she would not make me a killer. Not after tonight. Not after this.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because you let me in." In more ways than one.

She gave me a sad and pathetically weak, incredulous look.

"Dad would have heard you crash the window. You would have been caught. Dad would have probably found a reason to arrest you and throw you in jail… he would have thought you were breaking in and maybe even assaulting me… then he would have found the pills… it would not have ended well for you," she sighed.

I shook my head as she spoke.

"That wasn't it," I argued.

"Of course it was."

I groaned and rolled my eyes.

"Fine, it was you protecting me. You're Saint Swan," I replied sarcastically. "Look, let's make a deal, alright? You stop doing shit like this and I promise I will… ehh…" I didn't know how to end the sentence; I had no fucking clue what to offer her. I had nothing.

"You promise you will have my back." Her voice was barely a whisper, but I caught it.

"I already do."

"But you said you were done… and I can't…," she sighed and was quiet for a moment to collect herself a little. "I've been through stuff that really messed me up. I'm not a person anymore. I'm just a shell, and you're fighting a losing battle by refusing to let me die. I'm not saying this to be morbid or to make you feel bad; I'm just telling you how it is. People have done things to me that had made it impossible for me to trust anyone, and I don't think you can even grasp how big this is." She squeezed my hands between us to emphasize her point. "I don't trust easily. Hell, I don't trust at all. And the fact that I'm even sitting here and telling you, of all people, all this… that is also messed up… I have your back, I told you I did. And you said you had mine… but then you left… I don't think I can take another person abandoning me again."

"I promise you, I will not go anywhere this time. I know I was a fucking douche last time, but I'm not leaving now. Not again." I tried to put all the conviction I felt into my voice to make her realize that I was serious. She met my gaze and she still looked doubtful. I couldn't blame her. "I fucking need you, alright?" The words left my lips without me even realizing it until they were out. Her eyes widened and she looked almost scared.

"What do you mean by that?" she asked. She tried to pull her hand back, but I squeezed it tighter in mine. I couldn't let her back away from me now. We were onto something here.

"Exactly what I said," I said, trying to sound confident even though my voice was shaking and I felt anything but sure. I had never felt so fucking exposed in my entire life. I felt naked. And not in the "I'm-about-to-get-some-action" naked, this was "tear-my-fucking-heart-out-and-piss-on-my-soul" kind of naked.

"You need me? For what?" she asked hesitantly.

I smiled crookedly. I knew the answer to that, and I had nothing to lose by saying it out loud. I had nothing to lose and everything to gain. I had already lost everything. She was all I had left. She had my back, even when I had not had hers. She was trustworthy. She had already proved that to me. Even despite everything.

"Surviving," I replied, shrugging lightly in an attempt to make the answer less serious.

"You don't need me to survive, Edward," she said, slowly shaking her head. "Nobody needs me to survive." For some reason those words made her snort and she let out a sad laugh. "But I guess it all depends on how you chose to look at things."

"You wanna talk about it?" I asked hesitantly. "I'm not the world's best listener, but I can try, if you want to share? I'll fucking listen." She shook her head and smiled sadly. "You can trust me, you know. I'm not going anywhere this time. I promise. We're both fucked up, and I bet we could help each other to be less fucked up…"

She looked at me straight in the eyes and sighed.

"Four months ago, my world completely fell apart," she began. "I've never had many friends, and my life in Forks has always been awkward and weird… but I was fine with that. Because I had my family and I had the Blacks. I had Jacob, my best friend. I had everything that would make me happy, so I was… but then it all fell apart like a freaking house of cards… and I was crushed in the rubble… not a moment goes by without me being reminded of it… I continued going to school anyway, letting it be my distraction… I was fine having people call me names, because I didn't hear them… not really… you guys were constant. You guys didn't change…"

"You are really hung up on having people staying true to themselves," I noted quietly.

"That's because I know what happens when people do change… and from my experience that's not a good thing," she mumbled.

"Who changed to make you believe that?"

"Everybody."

I scoffed. "Way to narrow it down."

She gave me a tired look and I could once again see her internal battle in her eyes.

"My mom… but also Jacob… and his father… and my father… but mainly, my mom. Mom ruined me. She's sleeping upstairs as we speak, and I have no other choice than to accept her presence in my life even though I want nothing more than to see her die a painful death."

"Why don't you run the fuck away or something?" I asked. "I know I would." She quirked an eyebrow and knocked on her cast. My mark. But I didn't accept her answer. "So fucking what? People break bones all the fucking time. You know I didn't mean run away literally, right? You don't need to run; you can take a fucking cab or train or some shit too."

"I'm tired, Edward. I couldn't run away even if I wanted too. I don't have the energy and I'm just… I'm just done. You know? Besides, I have no money. I wouldn't survive. And where would I run anyway?" She had a point. I guess her lack of money never occurred to me, since I never had to worry about shit like that.

"You can't stay here if that makes you want to kill yourself either," I argued. "You can't stay with people that take away your fucking will to live."

"So? What are you going to do about it? Are you going to save me like a knight in shining armor, pick me up on your black horse and ride us off into the sunset? I have no choice, Edward! This is my freaking life whether I like it or not," she said, her voice shaky. "It doesn't matter if I run, my past will always haunt me because I will always be reminded of it!"

"What the fuck happened to you?" I asked exasperated. "All I hear is that your family and friends changed and broke you. But what did they do? What the hell could be so bad that you want to kill yourself because of it? What the hell could they have done to break you down to this?"

I struggled with keeping my voice low. I wanted to fucking yell at her. She frustrated me so much. I could see my own frustration being mirrored in her eyes. She was feeling just as frustrated as I was.

"I haven't told anybody, because they would have me committed. They would think I was insane!"

"Are you?"

"NO!"

"Then tell me."

"You wouldn't believe me even if I did…"

"Tell me what the fuck happened! And I'll tell you one thing: I don't care if you don't have any money. I still believe you could always run away if it's as bad as you make it out to be. You can always run away! You can forget all about it! Run the fuck away and forget it all. There will be nothing to remind you of it."

She took a deep sigh; frustration and annoyance were clear even in that simple sound. She removed her hand from mine and pulled up her sleeve. I frowned and wondered if we were going to have a repeat of last time…

"I will always be reminded of it. I will never be able to forget because I bare the marks that will always remind me of the night that ruined my life." She stared me dead in the eyes as she said the last part. "The reason I will always be reminded is because my own mother gave me these scars. She cut my arm and drank my blood. Yes, you heard me. She freaking drank my blood like a damn vampire! And that was just the appetizer! She hadn't even begun torturing me yet!" She took a deep breath and tried to collect herself. I kept my eyes on hers, seeing all the emotions flashing past. Horror. Shame. Pain. Relief…

She was practically panting. Her eyes were welling up with tears and I swallowed down the lump that was forming in my throat. What the hell was I supposed to say in response to that? If I hadn't known any better I would have thought she was making the shit up, but she had the scars to prove it… and Dad's file too. The scars are not self-inflicted…

"She… you… fuck," I muttered, hating myself for not finding the words. "That's fucking crazy."

"I'm not crazy!" she snapped, her voice cracking on the last word.

"Fuck, no! I'm not saying you're crazy. I'm saying that the situation is crazy. Because it is. Okay? I believe you. I swear to fucking God I believe you."

I grabbed her hand again and it felt as if we both relaxed as our hands came in contact with each other.

"Why don't you tell me the whole story," I suggested softly, and she shook her head.

"I have kept it inside me for too long, I don't even know where to start… it's all insane."

"I'll believe you."

She met my gaze, looking so doubtful.

"I have your back, Sparrow, I promise you I do," I said, trying to reassure her.

"I'm not ready," she whispered.

"Don't worry, I'll be here when you are."