A/N: Trigger warning.
Chapter 22 - Crisis intervention
Bella's previously asked question- Did you get therapy for your trauma's?
It had been answered. She was certain now that Edward hadn't received any therapy.
But he did deserve it. Even though Bella had doubts he thought the same.
She dragged him with her by his hand, while on the way out grabbing her coat that basically held all her most important possessions. Her phone, wallet, pills.
Everything about him screamed unhealed trauma.
What on earth was she supposed to do? She had thrown a bucket of water over him for a lack of knowing how else to handle him. She though well and long about what to say once they stood before his car.
But he didn't get any therapy.
And that made him perhaps the most dangerous and unstable person for her to be with right now.
"What's on your mind?" he asked her.
Even though, he had a knowing look on his face.
Almost as if he already could read her mind.
"What do you think?" she asked defensively.
He laughed. While lacking real amusement.
Mad man.
"I can tell that you are scared," he said. "It's written all over your face."
She removed her eyes, staring up at the sky.
"That's not true," is all she said.
He leaned forward, and opened the car door.
"Get in then. But don't say I didn't warn you."
She had a bad feeling about this.
Still, she stepped in his car.
Her hands shook while she was putting on her seat belt. He stepped in the car as well, starting it quickly and putting the blowers on high.
She noticed his hands on the steering wheel, shaking. This wasn't the Edward she knew.
He was changed. A controlless creature of the night.
The car was silent, which made Bella in turn nervous and she muttered, "Do you mind putting on the radio or something...?"
He watched her in surprise and nodded.
"You can switch the channel, if you want," he said as the car was finally less silent with music.
She didn't care what music was playing. She just didn't like the silence. She needed it for background sounds.
There was that tension again between them.
What the hell was up with that? It felt so damn sharp and uncomfortable.
Minutes passed, and nothing changed about the tension. And the radio kept playing one sad song, followed by more sad songs.
Even if, the song that was starting to play, was beautiful.
She closed her eyes, and recited the words in her mind.
It helped.
Even if her cheeks were soaked wet from ongoing tears.
"What are you thinking?" he asked, killing the silence.
She felt uncomfortable. "Nothing much."
Her mind was frozen, unable to make up something or come up with a question to get him to speak while answering a question. She was even unable to ask him his question back, to see what he was thinking.
She suppressed breathing out the tension in her body.
"Do I make you uncomfortable?" he asked.
She flinched at the question. "No," she breathed out.
She lied.
He did make her uncomfortable.
Everything he was.
Because they were growing apart as they spoke.
"I hate this song," he muttered, switching the channel.
Bella opened her eyes, as the lyrics she'd been reciting along with the song, abruptly ended.
"That song is possibly my most beloved song," Bella said, staring into the darkness.
Edward locked eyes with her briefly and she glanced down at her knees.
She hated to see his empty stare.
Suddenly the song was back on the radio.
He changed back the channel.
He was a jackass and mean and something was clearly wrong with him, yet-
He cared about her opinion.
"You should be careful," she said.
For she might think something within him, still had a care for her opinion.
Edward brought his eyes towards her, a flash of rage and annoyance in there.
Bella suppressed a panicked laugh.
Something within her told her to run.
To run hard and fast from the Edward Cullen he'd become.
Edward circled a house, and stopped the car.
At the same time, the song playing slowly came to an end and she heard the final lyrics to the song.
...I know you've been hurtin'.
Waitin' on a train that just won't come.
The rain, it ain't permanent
Is our time ever soothin'?
We'll be dancin' in the sun... And we'll sing your song together.
He turned his head towards her, his hands still no the steering wheel. She felt his eyes on her.
She turned to glance at him too.
"You say you're not afraid of me," he said, skepticism in his eyes.
She held her breath.
"Then why are you shaking, Bella?"
She hadn't noticed that she was.
"Why are your eyes open wide?"
They were?
"Why are you barely breathing?"
Is that why it felt like she was choking?
"Why do you look like you want to run and be anywhere, but here?"
She couldn't respond.
She couldn't say or explain the feelings inside her.
It was as if it was on the tip of her tongue to grasp what was happening to her, but each time she thought she knew, she lost grip on her reality.
But she was certain it had to do with Edward's behavior.
"I warned you, remember?" he asked carefully, steering his head. "Do you still want to get in my house?"
She felt deeply insecure suddenly. This time, she didn't hide her fear, panic and worries. She was scared.
He told her she should be careful. She didn't know what that meant.
"You've hurt me plenty. I don't think you have anymore ammunition to hurt me."
He gave her an irritated look.
What is happening?
Why is he irritated?
Bella had no idea.
She grew more uncomfortable and stepped out of the car, a little frustrated herself.
As he stepped out too, she walked toward him.
He backed up against the car and watched her in surprise.
"Just so you know, Edward," she snapped. "I can't keep up with you mood swings no more. I've had enough of them. I don't care what it is you are trying to warn me from. So go ahead. Consider me warned."
He raised an eyebrow. "Sure."
He walked up to his front door and stepped in after unlocking the door.
As she stepped in as well, she noticed there were boxes everywhere in the hallway and she stared in shock around.
"What happened here?" she asked.
"Sometimes, I'm not sure myself."
"Did you move recently?"
"No."
Very explanatory, she thought. "When?"
"Approximately, half a year ago."
She stared around the hallway, realizing he moved about the same moment he also left Bella at the hospital.
She followed him slowly through the hallway, noticing more boxes, all piled up on top of each other. They were neatly stacked though and the house was clean.
But so, so full.
So abnormal.
What did he keep in all those boxes?
"Upstairs," he said, walking towards the staircase.
The house was too full, filled with so many boxes. From what he had in his apartment, she never would have guessed he owned so many things.
And above all, she wondered why he didn't unbox them.
Why didn't he live in this house?
She was staring at his back as they were walking upstairs.
He's a hoarder, or something?
"My bedroom," he said, walking into the second room on the right.
She was apprehensive to step into his bedroom.
The bed looked different than the one he'd had in his apartment. However, it wasn't made and there were several open books lying on the bed, along on his bedside table.
So many more boxes, even in his bedroom.
That's why she stayed near the door opening, not stepping inside.
He watched her carefully from the distance.
There was a haunting look on his face.
It made Bella shiver.
"Where's Hailey?" she asked to break the tension.
"She stays at Emmett," he said curtly.
"Temporarily?" she muttered.
"Permanently."
"Oh. Why?"
Edward missed a beat. "I couldn't take care of her anymore."
Oh.
That's bad.
Was his trauma so bad, he couldn't even take care of Hailey anymore?
And Bella glanced from the bed to Edward repeatedly, waiting, and...
"You want to- to- fuck me, is that it?" she blurted out.
His eyes narrowed.
"Because I can say that- I mean- you shouldn't- and- and I- I can't- I won't-"
"Stop talking, Bella," he demanded carefully. "I didn't bring you here to fuck you."
She felt out of breath and tried to calm her nerves.
He reached for the drawer of his bedside table and opened it.
Bella was still trying to ease her unsteady breaths so she didn't see clearly until Edward held something black in his hand. Something black, and shiny, and- and-
Lethal.
Edward helt a gun.
Bella gasped when she noticed it. "What are you doing?"
He waved the gun at the bed.
Edward wasn't looking at her. He was looking at the gun.
Bella remained frozen near the door opening, wondering what the hell was going on.
"Are you going to kill me?" she blurted out.
He seemed confused.
"What the fuck, Bella?"
Oh God.
"What's going on?" she whispered.
"You're pretty ignorant," he said with a scoff. "I thought it's obvious what's going on."
No!
"Every fucking night," he muttered. "I hold this gun. And I sit on the edge of this bed. But as the days pass, I find it harder each time to come up with a reason or a even fucking excuse to not kill myself."
Bella forced herself to stop breathing, to not make a sound.
He steered his head and held the gun up as he looked at it.
"But tonight, Bella. It's impossible."
He scoffed deeply and caught her eyes.
"I can't come up with a single reason to not pull the trigger."
"What?" she gasped, her voice on edge.
"On top of that," he said. "If I'm dead. I won't ever hurt you again."
Bella couldn't move at all.
"I told you," he said with an empty smirk. "I warned you. What happens in this house, it's not pretty. But it might just be exactly what you need.
What the hell?
"Perhaps this will be a promise. My promise to never hurt you again."
He had a gun? He held it, each night?
He's suicidal!
Damn it.
God!
Damn this.
Bella felt herself panic, but tried to stay calm.
"What's stopped you the other nights?" she said, her voice shaking.
"What a silly question," he said with a chuckle.
What kind of a response is that!
Oh God. Oh God, please.
Let this not happen.
"You, of course," he added.
Bella shook her head, and for once, she didn't tear up immediately. For some reason, his tears, his pain, his confession of a possible suicide; it didn't make her tear up. Or perhaps that would come, later.
She wondered how it would look like, once she felt the impact of Edward's confession.
"A-And tonight, I'm not?" she stuttered nervously.
Nothing in his eyes changed. "Especially tonight, I suppose you're not."
She didn't trust Edward at all. Not with that gun in his hand. Not with the void in his voice.
"Tonight you're the reason for me to pull the trigger."
The void she'd seen in his eyes since this afternoon.
"Meaning I've no more reason left to live."
It all made sense. Everything clicked.
He was empty. He felt no joy.
She was scared, scared for him.
Without a doubt, she knew that Edward was batteling a depression with a suicidal mind.
"You do," she argued, even if she had no idea what reasons to give him. "With... therapy-"
He looked at her and gave her again that look. A certain look that frightened Bella. Bella suppressed another wave of panic.
"You keep telling me about therapy," he said. "You're fucking naive."
"Why?" she said, hiding her hear as best as she could.
"I was never good to you. I destroyed you."
"But-"
"I was fucked, scared and nervous when you shot yourself. When you almost died, and when you were in coma for months, and catatonic and unresponsive to any intervention or medicine and that I'd never hear the truth. Never hear you voice again. To hear the words mental health home for the rest of your life."
Her suicide...
He was talking about her suicide.
"That the last words I'd ever heard you say, would be..." he swallowed thickly. "My death. A relief for Edward."
She said that? Were those her last words that day?
She couldn't remember and for that she felt lost.
She never thought of the effect her possible death would have on Edward.
Her eyes burned, but she willed herself to remain strong.
Because he held a gun.
"I'm sorry," she said in a small voice.
"Whatever the fuck for?" He sounded exasperated.
"When I shot myself- I didn't know- that- those were my last words to you. I really- I swear, I didn't know. And that they- that they've been hurting you."
"No?"
She shook her head. "I barely remember that day... I mostly remember... pain. In my chest and my throat."
"You almost died."
His eyes were not in the present. She could tell he was reliving the past in this moment.
"I'm sorry," she said again.
"For choosing you over James and me?" he said skeptically. "You don't have to apologize."
"But I hurt you. I hurt you too. I am still hurting you to this day."
"Don't be silly. It was all James. You were only a naive little bird caught and kept in a tiny cage."
She was speechless as he gave her the gentlest look.
It looked as if he was telling her goodbye.
With a gun in his hand.
She was certain it was loaded.
"What did it look like?" she asked.
"What?" he asked.
For the first time in her life, wondering what that day looked like through Edward's eyes.
"Me," she said. "At the- the CC. When I shot myself."
He laughed. "You mean when you were dying on the ground, losing more blood by the second, suffering at my hands and screaming out in pain because the fucking helicopter didn't hurry to start at least with pain meds?"
She swallowed nervously. She wondered if it was best to stop him from continuing, but she decided against it.
"You looked so small," he said, scoffing. "Skinny. Bruised. All I could do was watch how you kept losing blood, coughing blood with each fucking word you spoke, blood coming out of your mouth, your nose. You were worried about everyone in the building, about Emmett, and-"
He gave her an irritated look.
"Me. You were worried about even me. You were bleeding out right in front of me and all you did was worry for me."
He was sucked back into the past. She could tell. His eyes were not in the present.
"My hands were drenched with your blood from trying to slow down where the bullet had gone through your liver and the bottom tip of your lung."
"Edward..." she said slowly.
He brought his eyes to hers, watching her hard. "You suffered a lot. I know you did. Even though your blood loss was massive, the reason you eventually collapsed was because of the amount of pain. That's what the doctors said."
She was horrified.
"Not even your body's natural response with adrenaline and nearing shock from blood loss was able to reduce the pain you felt."
"Okay," she forced out.
"And today, I lured you."
"You didn't lure me! I looked for you. Not the other way around."
"Perhaps. But I should've left."
"You-"
"Why the fuck are you here?"
He wasn't listening.
He was caught in his trauma.
And she feared she couldn't get him out.
His finger was in the loop around the trigger guard. He flipped the gun around his finger as if it was the most normal thing to do and Bella flinched.
"Is that thing loaded?" she asked, eyeing the gun very often.
"Perhaps you should go."
The gun clicked.
Bella exhaled hard. "Edward, please don't."
"Why not?"
"I don't want you to."
He eyed her briefly. "You should."
Bella couldn't fall apart. Not yet. Not now.
She had to save him.
From himself.
They were in a rigid atmosphere, like in the past.
"Stop this," she tried. "Please."
"No," he said. "I made you a promise and I do intend to keep it."
"What promise?"
"I will never hurt you again. You won't ever have to suffer again because of me."
His eyes dropped briefly on his bedside table. She tried to catch what it was, and it looked like a picture.
And even from the distance, she noticed what was on the picture.
It was her.
It was the picture he made with his phone back at his apartment, when she held his guitar. Her long black hair from then was covering her face.
"I'm going to step forward now," she said quietly. "Please don't move."
She inhaled deeply as she stepped forward, very carefully, to not suddenly alert him to point that gun at himself and kill himself.
Please don't move...
As she reached him, she took the picture in her hand.
Not just Bella, but... That night... Stopped him from killing himself?
She extended the picture to him, but he didn't take it. He didn't respond to it. So she placed the photo back on the table.
Bella didn't know what was the right thing to do, but her body moved before her mind could think it through. Gingerly, she placed her hand on the gun and found his eyes as she looked up.
"Give it to me," she said.
"Bella..."
"Let the gun go, Edward."
He held the gun tighter and Bella saw her own hand shake.
"I can't, Bella," he said quietly, tears falling from his eyes. "Please let me do this."
His plea hurt Bella the most.
His plea, similar to her nightmares, yet so, so much different.
This Edward was truly suffering.
Which made it different than her nightmares.
And for once, his plea didn't suck her back into her own trauma's.
Bella felt so awkward and didn't know what to say and what was the right thing to say as there was currently a gun between them, both Bella and Edward holding it.
She hid her fear and shock to her best ability.
And she began to plead as well.
"Please... Edward, please I'm begging you... let the gun go. Please let it go. Choose life."
He scoffed at her. "There's no reason for me to live."
"I don't want you to die!"
He gave her a strange look.
"Can that be a reason for you to choose life?"
He flinched. "It shouldn't."
"Yes, it should."
"How about I simply say that what you want no longer is important to me?" he said.
Sharp words that cut her, hurt her.
Even upon his pending death, he hurt her.
"What?" she whispered.
"Why should I care about you?" he added. "You decided to work for James."
She gasped. That's a lie.
She was forced.
"You let me fuck your mouth like a cheap person would. But I did go rather deep, remember? Think I fucked your throat."
Bella felt her hands shake and she clenched them into fists.
His gaze was too intense.
She grew angry, but remained still.
"Can you remember? The sounds that came out of your mouth?"
Bella answered.
"Yeah," she said, her voice shaking. "I couldn't breathe."
"Exactly," he said, his voice dead.
Bella hated James.
Very slowly, with Edward watching every of her moves carefully, Bella went down on her knees.
She remained there.
In front of him.
She looked up at Edward.
Just like in his office.
"Get back on your fucking feet," he groaned.
"Why, Mr Cullen?"
"Don't you dare," he snapped.
"But you told me to get on my knees-"
"I said-"
"Open my mouth wider and wider-"
"Shut the fuck, Bella, right now!"
"And raise my arms above my head, having you force my body up-"
His eyes watched her lividly.
"And most importantly, to never look away from you and once you filled my mouth, to wait for your permission until I could-"
They spoke simultaneously, as he said, "Stop."
And she said, "Swallow."
"Why are you mindfucking me, Bella?" he further groaned, his eyes desperate.
Yeah.
She was trying.
But would it work?
"James was right," she said quietly.
Edward held his arm lower, his gun next his body.
He was listening to her.
Hopefully being mindfucked.
"I was your cum dumpster," she said sadly. "Just like James said so."
Edward placed the gun on the bed.
Finally...
Finally... Bella felt a little sense of safety again.
He stepped forward in a rush, took Bella's upper arms and pulled her up off the ground.
"What did I say about that, huh?" he all but screamed.
At least he's no longer holding the gun.
"Don't you ever, fucking ever call yourself that again."
There was pain and sorrow behind his mask.
Edward had unresolved trauma's.
It was not difficult for Bella to recognize this as PTSD.
There was no other word to describe it.
And with that, being untreated, he also had developed depression with suicidal ideas and emotional outbursts.
She got out of his grip and took the gun off the bed.
She knew how guns worked. She looked and found indeed... one single bullet.
She pulled it out and placed the gun back in the drawer, while holding the bullet.
"Can I have the bullet back?" he said, stepping even closer to her.
She stood her ground. "No. I won't give you the bullet, you asshole."
She didn't sound strong. She feared he might fight her for it.
But if he fought her.
She would fight back. For this bullet. She would not give in without a fight.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. "For fuck's sake, Bella."
But as he now no longer held a deathly weapon, she finally felt a little more at ease.
"How dare you do this to me?" Bella cried, as the tears now dared to form as she held the bullet tightly.
He was only shaking his head, as if he wasn't agreeing with her.
"Tonight, even, of all nights? What am I supposed to do when you're dead?"
"Get therapy," he said blankly. "Apparently you can live your life after therapy. Doesn't matter if you were captured, tortured, raped, you get therapy."
She blanched.
He gave her a once-over. "You came out extremely well, considering everything. Good job, Bella. You're all good again."
Did he really mean that?
Did he not hear her when she said she still is haunted by nightmares?
Therapy was hard work.
Therapy required dedication to want to heal and mend your wounds.
Therapy wasn't simple.
"I need to make a call," Bella said brokenly. "You should change your clothes. Before you catch a cold."
Edward watched her strangely, but Bella didn't bother explaining it to him as she left him in his bedroom and fled downstairs.
She found her phone and she made a call.
She saw the car pull up in front of Edward's house.
The doorbell rang.
Bella had been in the hallway, waiting.
Edward hadn't come downstairs, until she finally heard him come down.
He glanced at the door as he doorbell rang again.
But Bella grew scared, to step forward and open the door.
He had her locked in place with just his presence.
"Is that the police?" he asked.
He had changed into a set of dry clothes, but his hair was still unruly.
Bella glanced away.
"Well then," he said with a dark chuckle.
Edward hesitated briefly. He walked up to her.
"Looks like finally you've made a healthy decision."
She couldn't look at him.
"Truly," he added. "It's good. Because your so called truth where you justify being raped-"
Bella flinched.
"It's fucked up," he said. "That's what it is. Fucked up. What I did in the bathroom to you. It's all fucked up."
He spoke without control. It was haunting Bella.
"Your rape fantasies, Bella," he said, suddenly forcing her chin up with his hand without warning, making her gasp. "Fucking nothing about that is normal. It's disgusting."
He spoke so loud.
She was certain the people behind the doors could hear him.
Was he doing this on purpose? Did he want to be heard?
Did he want his verdict?
He was guilty. Of course he was.
That's why everything was messed up.
But who's fault was that, at the end of the day?
Who caused this torment?
"Will you open the door?" she whispered in a broken voice.
He watched her darkly.
Angrily.
She took a step back from him, to free herself from his grip.
She watched his back as he was walking toward the front door, while Bella tried to breathe.
He thought she called the police.
But when he opened the door, the people behind the door didn't wear a police uniform.
They had just regular clothes on, both holding a bag.
Bella knew who they were.
"Good evening sir," one of them said, slightly wary eyes. "My name is Seth. This is my colleague, Leah."
Edward glanced back at Bella, a scoff.
He was probably expecting people in police uniforms.
"Yeah, I called... come inside," Bella said, uncertain at Edward's reaction.
Edward stepped back and let them in. Seth and Leah passed Edward, next Bella and walked further into the hallway.
There hung an awkward silence.
"Can you give us a minute?" Edward said. He glanced at the door, for them to continue.
They nodded and continued towards the living room.
They left Bella and Edward along in the hallway.
The awkward silence returned.
"I had to call them," she said in despair.
"Who is them?" he asked.
"Mental health crisis intervention team."
He gave her a look of disbelief.
"You deserve help and not suicidal thoughts and- and-"
She lost her mind. She lost words.
What was left to say?
He stared at her. "Right."
She grew sick. She thought he was near close to killing her.
"I had to," she repeated.
She didn't feel too good.
"They're here to just- analyze- give advice. If you're very unstable, they might admit you... I don't know. But probably they won't- but I- maybe not- depending on-"
He never left his eyes off her face, even though she kept looking away from him.
Intimidated. That's how she felt. Scared too.
When she saw a brief moment, real or not, of gentleness in his eyes, she pointed at the living room.
"You can go alone- it's fine- or- or I can join, but it's not- not necessary or like- mandatory-"
Edward stepped forward, killing every word Bella stuttered out.
"You called help for me?" he asked.
It sounded like he needed verification.
She grew panicked, so she said the only thing she could come up with.
It was messed up most to say the following words. But they came out anyway. Because Bella felt trapped.
Like a long time ago, with James.
"I can tell them it's was a mistake," she whispered so they wouldn't hear her. "Tell them I had a psychotic episode and imagined it all. Tell them I'm crazy."
She pulled out her pills, antidepressants and relaxants, handing over the bottles to Edward.
"Show them, and they'll know I'm crazy. Tell them my name, the whole world apparently knows it already, the cheap Playboy slut who's selling her body to a CEO of the CC."
Edward didn't take her bottles.
Bella didn't see much, except blurriness.
"Tell them I have dissociative disorder caused by trauma and- and I have hallucinations and that I'm crazy. Alright? Tell them I made a mistake. Apologize to them on my behalf."
Bella lost grip on reality.
She felt she might collapse any moment now.
"But you're not," he said slowly.
Bella trembled. "What?"
"You're not crazy."
She didn't believe him.
She couldn't.
"Why do you want me to lie to them?" he asked seriously.
Bella felt sick to her stomach.
"Answer me now," he ordered gently.
"Because I feel trapped by your madness and you're my captor and I'll sacrifice myself to bend to your will."
She would never be free or normal.
"Again," she added.
After a moment of silence, he asked, "You feel trapped? Right now?"
Just like a prisoner.
James held her tightly.
"Christ," he said sharply. "You're dissociating."
"N-No-"
"You are."
"I-I'm sorry, I'll try to-"
"Fuck, Bella, this isn't your fault. You're dissociating because of me. Because I'm a fucking idiot."
Bella grabbed her head.
What's happening?
"Do you understand what I mean when I ask you why you called crisis intervention instead of the police for me?"
She stared at him in confusion, wondering what the correct answer was to that question.
If she responded wrong, she'd be punished.
Again.
"Christ, Bella. Don't look at me like that."
"What?" she whispered.
He looked away, but Bella noticed his anger and sadness all at the same time.
Eventually he glanced back at her.
He reached in his pocket and pulled out something, handing it to her.
"See this?" he said.
She felt compelled to listen to him and noticed it was the photo.
The one with her long hair, hidden face, holding his guitar in his old apartment.
"You don't want it anymore?" she asked, staring at the photo.
"Bella," he sighed. "I thought you called the police. Do you hear me?"
The police.
Oh.
Yeah.
She nodded carefully.
"I hoped you'd finally gotten sick of me. Realizing that I only cause pain and sorrow. Instead, you called help for me."
To call the police was a thought that never crossed her mind.
All she had wanted, ever since she left the hospital today, was to simply not spend this night alone.
That's all.
"And now you think I'm angry with you for calling help for me," he stated.
It wasn't a question.
But he made it sound like...
"Are you not?" she asked with her eyes on the ground.
He didn't miss a beat. "No."
He wasn't angry?
"Look at me," he demanded.
She couldn't.
But she did.
"How come you're still taking care of me, Bella Swan?" he asked gently and accusingly. "After all I did."
Before she could think or dissociate again, he extended his arm towards the living room, for her to go first.
"Let's go," he said.
Apparently
Accepting help?
While they headed to the living room, Bella had still one question.
"Why were you taking that picture with you, if you thought you're going to prison?"
Edward didn't glance at her, or answer her.
She wondered if he had even heard her.
At first, Edward was barely calm.
That's why Seth and Leah gave him lorazepam. It helped some, but they even gave him two more pills. Bella didn't necessarily like the idea of starting off with medication, but it was either this or admit him.
And then... the lorazepam did have a calming effect on Edward as he finally came more to his senses.
The two psychiatric nurses - Seth and Leah - from the crisis intervention team gave Edward their direct telephone number 24/7 available for crisis intervention. If tonight, the situation would escalate, Edward could call them and they would be able to quickly get back and make an assessment whether an admission is needed.
For now, they concludes Edward had a high suicide risk with chronic suicidal thoughts. He didn't meet the criteria, as Bella had guessed, for admission to a hospital. He was stable enough.
They did prescribe medication for the next three days. To take, as needed, when the tension was too much.
They also made Edward promise he wouldn't take his life tonight and would call for help and therapy first thing in the morning.
It was damn awkward.
They didn't only make Edward promise this to Seth and Leah.
Leah had said, "Edward, I want you to look your friend, Bella, in the eyes, and tell her that you promise you won't take your life."
Bella had been watching Leah wide eyed, not noticing Edward's eyes on her, until Leah had turned her eyes to Bella.
"Bella, will you look at Edward as well?"
Preferably not...
She had brought her eyes to Edward with difficulty.
Edward had said, "I promise you. I won't take my life."
They told Edward to seek help instantly tomorrow morning, but to directly call them tonight if the situation changed.
"How do you feel?" Bella asked him after they left.
Edward gave her a look. "Drained. Never realized how sedative lorazepam really is."
"Sorry to hear that..."
He nudged his head towards the stairs.
"You know, it's getting late."
He was dismissing her.
"Get that shower you want at night. You know?"
He really was.
"Take whatever clothes you need. Do whatever you want."
Without directly saying it, he dismissed her.
He went to the front door and held the door handle.
He's leaving.
He didn't want to be near her.
"You're not allowed to drive a car on lorazepam..." she muttered, wincing at telling a man as grand as him what he was and wasn't allowed to do.
"I'm not going for a ride," he said. "I just need to clear my head."
Clear his head?
He turned his eyes towards her, eyebrow slightly raised.
Oh, dear God.
He's going to kill himself.
And this time, Bella couldn't stop him.
He gave her a long look, apparently having a thousand questions, but he only voiced out one.
"You alright on your own?" he asked casually.
"Take care," she said quickly, turning on her heel and walking upstairs.
And with that, she heard him slam the front door shut and leave the house before she was even halfway up the stairs.
Bella had crumbled down on the bed, surrounded by his scent.
She never took that shower. She had placed the gun carefully on the bedside table. She was fumbling with her phone.
Edward was... suicidal.
He tried to kill himself.
Currently, probably, trying again. Maybe he had another gun in his car.
For the past months, every night, he tried to. But didn't.
He had haunting memories too.
He had unattended trauma.
Bella felt herself break.
She broke.
Because she hated knowing that Edward was not only not okay, but he was suffering immensely. All this time.
Bella had remained so calm while he held that gun, while she took it from him, while she removed the bullet, while she called the crisis intervention team, while they arrived and spoke with Edward, both in private and together in Bella's presence...
But now as she sat where Edward previously sat and admitted that he wanted to be rather dead, Bella broke.
Everything she'd been keeping inside, came out and Bella felt it.
As Bella looked on the internet and searched for Edward Cullen she found and read so much horrible gossip.
Worse, it was worse than the gossip that was once about her.
She wondered if she should post something.
For the first time.
But she decided against it.
Her mind was a jumble.
She kept going back and forth.
So much horrid rumors.
The darkness of a reality that wasn't true consumed her.
She knew she was dissociating and she was doing things and seeing this and hearing things what weren't true.
But she didn't take her medication.
She didn't calm her nerves the way her therapist taught her.
If Edward had no reason to want to live, why should she?
She saw red.
It was blood.
And next was horrendous pain.
It was suffocating and slowly drowning her.
James.
He's back.
AN: Thanks for your review.