Title: Runaway Train

Author TwilightMomOfTwo

Banner Maker: MDealsWithIt

Author's Note: This is the first chapter of my new story Runaway Train. Please note that it deals with
drug abuse and other adult themes. Coarse language also abounds. Grab a tissue or five before reading.

Disclaimer: All things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. I just play in her sandbox.

Summary: It's been three years since Edward left Bella in the woods outside of her house. That long,
happy life he envisioned for her didn't quite pan out the way he thought. Bella is very broken when
they are reunited and Edward has to struggle to bring her back from the brink. Is a HEA in the cards for
them?

Rated NC-17

1. Wreckage

Bought a ticket for a runaway train

Like a madman laughing at the rain

Little out of touch, little insane

It's just easier than dealing with the pain

Runaway train, never goin' back

Wrong way on a one-way track

Seems like I should be getting somewhere

Somehow I’m neither here nor there

Runaway train, never comin' back

Runaway train, tearin' up the track

Runaway train, burnin' in my veins

I run away but it always seems the same

ooo~~~OOO~~~ooo

Runaway Train – Soul Asylum

BPOV

The phone rings somewhere in the bowels of the rundown house I've called home for the last six
months. At least I think it's been that long. Time isn't something I pay much attention to. I'm living on
borrowed time – I know that much. The next hit might kill me.

Part of me hopes for that.

The ring of the phone echoes again. I don't bother getting up from where I am currently laid out,
waiting for the high from the shot I just injected into my veins. Besides, the call likely isn't for me,
anyway. Not many people know I'm here. Certainly not anyone that would care to call.

Someone will answer it, or not.

I just don't give a shit anymore.

Not since...no, not going down that route.

And then the euphoria hits and I feel like I'm floating as my mind shuts down and I lose myself in the
colors that dance behind my closed lids.

It's the only colorful thing I get to see these days, the only time I feel alive. The rest of my life is
various shades of gray. Most nights are spent whoring myself out to whoever is willing to pay enough
money so I can get the next fix.

Male or female or both – it doesn't matter. Just hand me the money, use my body and then get the hell
away from me. I don't form relationships with anyone except my dealer.

And he only cares about me as far as the money for the drugs is concerned.

I'm not close with anyone.

Not since I left Forks.

Actually, that's not quite true. It's been nearly three years since I left my hometown, but I've been gone
longer than that.

I lost myself the day that he left me.

And I know he's never coming back.

At this point, I certainly don't want him to, either. During my more lucid moments, I'm ashamed of
what I have become but there's no turning back time. It's easier to deal with the pain of losing him
when I'm high – when I'm floating above all the misery his leaving caused.

When I don't have to remember.

When I can dream.

I crave those moments – when all is well with my world and he's still with me. Reality fades and my
life isn't fucked up anymore.

Because in my dreams, high on the drugs I sell my body for, Edward still loves me.

And when I come back down, I'm back to being a cheap prostitute, willing to do whatever you want so
I can get my next fix.

I am Bella Swan, crack whore.

I wasn't always this way. There was a time when I was a good student, a happy teenager in love with
the man of my dreams and poised to spend the rest of my life with him. I wanted him more than
anything, and I was willing to give up whatever I had to, just to keep him forever.

My future was spread out before me and it looked bright indeed.

And then someone turned off the sun. My descent started on a cool day in the fall, shortly after my
eighteenth birthday.

A fucking papercut turned my happiness into this pit of misery I've been living in for nearly three long
years.

After Edward left me in the forest, I sank into a depression, numb and mute for a week, only to wake
up when my mother came to Forks at my father's request, to take me with her to Florida. I fought them
both tooth and nail, got myself together enough to graduate high school and then hightailed it out of my
sleepy hometown.

Somewhere along the way, I'd come up with a plan. I was going to find another vampire to turn me, and
then I would try to find Edward again, with a new body and immortality, and I would finally be worthy
of him.

Obviously, it didn't work out that way.

I started in Seattle where I got a job at a hardware store and a cheap apartment. At night, I frequented
the bars, knowing that any nomadic vampire looking for prey would like be found in the cheaper parts
of town where it wouldn't be unusual for someone to come up missing.

I found not a single one.

So I moved to the next big city. And then the next one. After a year or so, I was in New York City,
working in a store in the burbs and riding the train at night to find an immortal to either kill or turn me.
I was unsuccessful, but of course, that was nothing new. Instead, the seedy underbelly of that city
sucked me into the drugs I am now addicted to. I can still remember taking that first hit of pot, that
euphoric feeling spreading through my veins.

I had been trying so hard not to think of him, not to even think his name, but when I put that bong to
my mouth and sucked in the smoke, his velvety voice sounded in my head, scolding me.

And the anger was so lovely.

“Bella! Smoking is bad, and smoking pot is illegal. Do you want to be arrested? Stop it now. You
promised.”

I smiled at the voice.

Pot turned into little white pills that were more expensive, and pretty soon, my pay at the store was
barely enough to cover them. The first time I swallowed a pill, the voice in my head yelled at me again.
When it stopped, I moved on to crack. With each new drug the voice came back but soon faded as I
sank deeper into the addiction.

And then my performance dropped, I missed work once too often and suddenly was out of a job.

I lost my apartment next.

Being homeless in New York at the start of fall was bad enough, only foolish pride keeping me from

calling my father, but when I met Joe one night my life took a turn for the worse.

He found me shivering on a park bench, huddled in my thin coat that wasn't enough to keep me warm.

“You look cold,” he said when he sat down next to me uninvited. “What's a pretty girl like you doing
here all alone?”

I looked up at him, his stringy brown hair hanging into his forehead, his hazel eyes cold and piercing,
and shrank further into the bench.

“Lie.”

I gasped when I heard the voice again but quickly gathered myself to respond in what I hoped would
discourage the stranger to move on.

“N...Nothing. I...I'm...waiting for my friend.”

“Hmm,” the man replied, looking me up and down.

“You must lie better than that, Bella.”

“He'll be here soon,” I insisted.

The man smiled slightly. “Okay. Stay warm, then.”

He got up and I let out a sigh of relief, wrapping my coat closer around me as I watched him walk away
from me. As soon as he turned the corner, I jumped off the bench and moved in the opposite direction,
trying to figure out where to go for the night.

He must have followed me without my notice because he was suddenly beside me, grabbing my arm. I
screeched in surprise when he put his hand across my mouth and pushed me into the nearest alley. It
was Port Angeles all over again, but I knew this time there would be no savior showing up to rescue
me.

“Sshh,” he hissed as I struggled against him. “Don't scream. I'm not gonna hurt you.”

He sounded sincere.

“I'm gonna move my hand if you promise not to scream.” His eyes stared into mine and despite my
fear, I nodded.

He moved his hand to my shoulder. “Stop struggling.”

I did.

Joe took me home with him that night, fed me and gave me a place to sleep. In thanks, I cooked his
breakfast the next morning, and he asked me where I lived. When I haltingly told him that I was
homeless, he offered to let me stay in his apartment until I could get back on my feet.

I learned later on, long after he had gained my trust, that this was his usual M.O. - there had been
plenty of girls before me meeting the same fate.

The drugs had obviously fried my brain because a week or so after meeting him, he convinced me to
have sex, plying me with the pills that I craved. I don't remember much of my first time, too high to
feel any pain though I found the blood on the sheets the next morning.

The shame was horrible and I spent hours in the bathroom scrubbing him and the guilt off me, sobbing
into the cold tiles, feeling hopeless and lost and alone.

I still missed the boy who had loved me, if only for a little while.

From there, it was a rapid decline and by the time Joe showed his true colors, I was too far gone to
care.

He pimped me out to his friends at first but soon he had me walk the streets, forcing me to bring back
enough money to more than cover the drugs he gave me to keep me tied to him.

I only broke free of him because another of his girls took pity on me.

Amber was a few years older and she took me under her wing.

“I'm gonna get out of here, Bella,” she used to say, “and when I do, you're coming with me.”

I started taking a few dollars each night and holding them back from Joe, slowly building a small
amount of savings. Amber did the same, and in the fall of 2009, three years after I left Forks, I was on
my way back to Seattle.

We found an abandoned house occupied by a group of squatters, where we lived for a little while
before making a few friends and moving into the rental where I'm living now.

I still sell my body for cash to buy the drugs I need.

I'm still ashamed of myself and I have not called my father in five years. Forks is just a few hours to the
west, but it might as well be on the other side of the globe. Light years now separate me from my old
life, and I know I can never go back.

The door bell rings. I hear someone answer and then my name echoes through the house.

“Bella – there's someone at the door for you.”

Huh. I slowly scramble off my bare mattress and make my way downstairs. Amber passes me in the
hallway.

“Who is it?” My voice sounds slurred and tired.

“Some young guy. Said his name's Edward. Rather handsome, if you ask me. Don't think it's a john.”
She shrugs. “Very polite, too.

A choked breath burst from me and I shake my head in disbelief. “What?”

My feet are already carrying me in the direction of the front door and when I wrestle it open, there he
is.

He looks just the same as he did three years ago, just as otherworldly beautiful. His eyes, though, are
dark and full of pain, and anguished grief is etched into the lines of his marble face.

I find this odd but then my legs give out and my world goes dark. As I lose consciousness I feel cold,
solid arms catch me before I can hit the ground.

When I come to I'm in an unfamiliar car though the driver beside me is nothing if not familiar. As is the
speed at which we are traveling, the buildings giving way rapidly to open roads and dark, sinister
woods.

I move my head slightly to the left, groaning against the motion sickness. Sweat breaks out on my
forehead and I can feel the beginnings of the withdrawal pains build in my veins.

Clearing my throat, I try to speak. “Where...are we going?”

“Home,” he says through gritted teeth, glancing at me angrily before focusing his eyes on the road.

The anger is reassuring as I shrink further into the seat and study his profile. The angular lines, the
sharp jaw under taut skin that looks much more sallow and shrunken than I remember. As I feast my
eyes on the sight of him, I notice that his frame looks smaller and that the purplish shadows under his
eyes are much more pronounced than I was once used to.

“Why are you here?”

The words wrestle themselves from my chest and he exhales in a rush before he replies, his voice
pained.

“To save you. To save myself.”

EPOV

The pain is excruciating, the guilt crushing my silent heart. Finding Bella in the crack house in Seattle
was at once my absolution and the final step of my descent into hell.

Nothing is left of the vibrant girl I left behind so cruelly three years ago and it is clear that the cause of
her current state can be laid squarely at my feet.

This emaciated shadow of the girl I fell in love with is my fault and mine alone.

Her scent, once so tempting and burning in my nostrils, no longer possesses the pull it had. It is laced
with the chemicals she has been using and her skin reeks of sweat and the ugliness of where I found her
though the sweetness of her blood still powers through.

The smell of sex, of other men, clings to her skin but I refuse to dwell on that thought, choosing to deal

with that possible reality at a later time.

I need to save her, no longer from myself, but from the drugs she's fallen prey to, knowing that I need
her to save myself.

I need her. I can admit that now.

Alice knew and at first, she brought up the subject whenever I called or met up with my family for a
day or two. She told me so many times that my assumptions were wrong, that Bella wasn't happy but I
refused to listen and reminded her of her promise not to look. Eventually, she stopped.

For three long years I stayed away, fighting the pull of her each step of the way, wallowing in utter
misery to the point where I spent most of my time curled up in a cave and slowly going insane. I
missed her every minute of every hour of every day.

The only thing that held me back from running to her and confessing my lies was my conviction that
she was better off without me. I had expected her to have finished college, secured a job and a nice man
who would marry her and make her happier than I ever could.

My arrogant assumptions and my foolish dismissal of Bella's wishes are now coming back to bite me in
my ass.

I should never have left.

I have no earthly idea how to go about bringing her back from the brink of death but I know I have to
try. Certainly, I have two medical degrees and plenty of experience of dealing with addicts – if one
counts the newborn years of Esme, Rosalie and Emmett and Jasper's continued fight against the
temptation – so I'm fully aware that getting Bella weaned off the drugs she's been abusing her body
with is not going to be easy. I'm a recovering addict, too, if I'm honest with myself. I fell off the wagon
in my early years, clawing my way out of the addiction, and Bella has sorely tempted me in the more
recent past. I know what it's like to fight every second of every day because that's what I did when I
met her and fell in love with her. When I compared being with her to an alcoholic locked in a room
with the rarest whiskey, I knew what I was talking about.

This is not going to be an easy ride. Not for any of us but especially not for her. Her body will recover,
that's a medical fact, but her mind and her spirit might pose a much greater struggle than I can fathom. I
have no indication whether she still loves me and very little hope that she can ever forgive me.

But it's a ride I have to take.

Living without her is no longer a possibility.

It never really was.

Alice's frantic call three days ago is at the forefront of my mind.

I was sitting in the Canadian wilderness, in the middle of nowhere, with my arms around my legs, and
the image of Bella torturing me behind my closed lids. All in all a perfectly normal day. It was all I
ever did these days.

three long years of utter agony and desperation.

I lived in a darkness of my own making.

After Bella.

I faintly noticed the phone vibrate in the pocket of my jeans.

After ignoring it twenty-four times, I finally decided to see which member of my family was so
persistent.

“Edward! You have to go to Seattle.” Alice's voice was shrill, fearful and I was instantly on alert.

“What's going on?”

Alice was sobbing into the phone. “I promise, I didn't look...it just happened....you were wrong,
Edward...oh God, you were so wrong.”

Ice-cold fear flooded my veins. “Wrong about what?”

“Bella,” she sobbed. “I saw her die.”

Shocked to my core, I dropped the phone to the ground, and then scrambled to pick it back up. “Oh no.
Oh no, no, no. When? Where? How? Oh, God...tell me!”

“Seattle,” Alice whispered. “I saw her...set a shot and overdose.”

I was already running towards the south-west before I realized I was moving. “What? She's taking
drugs? Oh, sweet Jesus. Why?”

“Why do you think, you idiot?”

For a split second my mind entertained the idea that Alice was right, that Bella had sunk into a life of
drugs because of my leaving. Was it possible that I had been wrong to leave her?

The pain hit me like a freight train; excruciating fire raced through my dried out veins as I
contemplated the possibility.

There were a myriad of other reasons why Bella would have turned to drugs. Surely, she had gotten
over me at some point. My whole reason for leaving hinged on that assumption and the possibility that
I had gotten it all wrong made me stumble from the anguish that thought evoked.

“You don't know that, Alice.” My voice was cold as I righted myself.

“Whatever, Edward, and it doesn't really matter at the moment. You need to stop her.”

“When will this happen?”

“I'm not sure...really soon, I think. You have to go now. Now, Edward.”

“Where is she?”

“It's an old house in one of the rundown sections.” Alice fell silent for a moment. “I see her walking
down the street at night. There are warehouses down the road and a few shops one street over. A bar on
the corner. She enters the bar. She meets a man in a back room, hands him cash. He gives her a small
bag and she leaves. The bar's name is Rusty's. Her house is just around the corner. Hurry, Edward.
Hurry.”

I made the decision instantly – there was no question in my mind what I would do.

What I needed to do.

“I'm coming,” I told Alice. “I'm going to get her. Call the others and ask them to meet us at the old
house in Hoquiam. Tell Carlisle what you've seen so he can prepare to detox her. I'm bringing her
home with me.”

There was a sigh of relief. “Thank God, Edward. The vision is already changing. Please, bring her
home to us.”

“I'll call you when I'm on the way.”

“See you soon,” Alice promised and hung up.

Next to me, Bella moans in pain and I can see that the withdrawal has begun. I pull in at the next rest
stop to purchase some water bottles and snacks and to fill up the gas tank. Bella refuses the food but
accepts the drink.

“I need to use the restroom,” she whispers after she has emptied one of the bottles. I flit around the car
to help her, knowing that in her current state she is too weak and in too much pain to make it there
herself.

I half-carry her to the facility, waiting outside the door while she has what she used to call a human
moment. When she exits, her hair is plastered against her forehead, her face is glowing with
perspiration and she is shaking, holding herself up against the door frame.

I know to expect this and I have medication in the car to give her. I look at her sadly and try to keep the
crushing guilt off my face.

“Carlisle and the rest of my family are waiting for us in Hoquiam. I...I would like to help you, Bella.
We all would. Nobody will hurt you, I promise.”

She sneers. “Save it. Your promises mean nothing, Edward. Maybe I don't want to be helped, have you
thought of that?”

Bella stumbles forward and I have to move fast to catch her before she falls again. I carry her back to
the car as she hisses and demands I let her go.

“No.” My arms tighten around her. I will never let her go again. The days of foolish arrogance are over.

I will deal with her rightful resentment later – the first priority is to get her taken care of physically.
While that may not be the best approach in the long run, I am convinced that I need to get her off the
addiction before we can even attempt to rebuild our relationship.

If there's anything left to rebuild.

If that's what she wants.

I am certain that she hates me.

As she has every right to.

Carlisle is ready for us when we arrive a few hours later and I carefully pull a whimpering, feverish
Bella from the passenger seat.

“I already have a bed set up for her. She's emaciated,” he gasps as he gives her a quick exam. “Bring
her upstairs.”

My family is standing on the porch. I can't meet their eyes. Their guilt, so similar to mine, is too much
and their frantic thoughts are screaming at me.

I will deal with them later.

This has become my new motto.

She looks tiny in the bed. Esme has stripped her, washed her body and put her in a cotton pajama set.
She leaves the room, her eyes rimmed in red from tears we cannot cry. She hugs me quickly before
making her way to the kitchen.

“Thank you for bringing her home, Edward.”

I watch as Carlisle sets the needle for the IV that will deliver much needed fluids and nutrients, as well
as the first doses of pain medication. My siblings are downstairs and I force myself to ignore the
accusations and pain in their minds. Jasper is not home and I wonder idly if he had to escape the
overwhelming emotions we are emanating or if he's staying away so as not be tempted by the
possibility of an open wound.

“I sent Jasper for more methadone. It will help her with the withdrawal pain and get her through
detox,” Carlisle says as if he just read my mind. “She needs to eat. Soft, easily digestible foods. I will
add vitamins to her drip.” He adds the latter for Esme's benefit who begins making a list which she'll
give to Emmett in a few minutes. He's been chomping at the bit, at a loss for how he can help, and
Esme knows doing the shopping will make him feel helpful.

I don't deserve my family; their desire to help Bella, and me, is – while not unexpected – more than I
anticipated.

I pull a chair up and sit down next to the bed, gently grasping Bella's hand in mine. She whimpers a

few more times, but gradually her soft cries turn to screams. She is sweating profusely, shivering and
shaking, her head moving from side to side.

“Get in the bed with her,” Alice's mind shouts. “Look – it will cool her down.”

I feel stupid for not having thought of that myself. Immediately, I pull my sweater over my head and
toe off my shoes. As I climb in beside Bella, clad only in a t-shirt, jeans and socks, and pull her into my
arms, she calms slightly, her hand searching and then finding my face. She sighs, a small release of
breath that almost sounds like contentment. The heat from her skin seeps into me and radiates through
my frozen core.

Despite her abhorrent condition and the long road of recovery ahead of us, I feel hopeful for the first
time since I left her.

Two weeks later.

“Fuck you, Edward. Fuck you and the high horse you rode in on.”

Her tiny fists pummel weakly against my chest.

“I love you, Bella. I'm sorry.”

“That's such bullshit. You fucking left me. You told me you didn't love me anymore.”

“I lied,” I say simply.

She stares at me for a moment in utter disbelief until the withdrawal pains fold her body in half.

“But you left me.” The statement is merely a whimper.

Her knuckles are white from the deathly grip she has on my shirt.

“I was scared, Bella. I'm so sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing by you but...”

“It hurts, it hurts. Make it stop hurting.”

The agony on her face reflects my own though the reason is likely different. I fully realize that I am
forcing her into the detox, without asking her permission.

My sorrow for the state she is in is exacerbated by the fact that I am trying to save her without her
consent, but I am willing to suffer the consequences of my actions if it means that she will live.

Whether she hates me for it or not, I can't let her die.

“Sshh, sweet girl, I know. I'm so sorry.”

“Edward. Help me.”

“I'm trying, sweetheart.”

I am helplessly trying to calm her as she thrashes deliriously on the bed. Holding her down sends her
into a screaming fit, so I loosely wrap myself around her, careful not to jostle the IV, and softly hum the
lullaby I composed for her when all the world was still in order.

It seems like a lifetime ago.

The last two weeks have been difficult, an exercise in trial and error as we work to figure out how to
best help her quit the drugs. Carlisle has been weaning her off the methadone slowly and her detox is
going as well as can be expected, from what he tells me and what I can see.

What little she eats, she often brings back up. Eggs seem to be the only thing she can keep down and
Carlisle is worried about her nutritional needs, upping her vitamins and nutrients in the ever-present IV
drip.

Alice and Jasper have been busy doing research at my request, trying to reconstruct Bella's movements
from the last three years and working to figure out what she has been through.

So far, they have tracked her all the way to New York City where her trail ends and she disappears until
she shows up in Seattle again twelve months later, seemingly out of nowhere.

I am back to my stalker ways but I cannot deal with not knowing. It's almost as if I have to see proof of
what I already know in my heart – that I broke her the day I left and that everything that has happened
to her since then is my fault.

Guilt sits like a wrecking ball in my gut.

They have gone to Seattle for the day to see if they can find out more information from the people
Bella was living with.

The picture their research paints is neither pretty nor encouraging, and in Bella's more lucid moments I
try to prod her gently to tell me what has happened to her.

She has so far refused, her eyes full of shame as she turns away from me. I have a good idea of why she
feels ashamed and I grit my teeth, trying to suppress that train of thought. Pain clenches my silent heart
again and again and the anguish is at times overwhelming.

There is no escaping the truth. I love this woman more than my own life but in my foolish attempt to
give her what I thought she deserved I almost killed her, and it becomes clear to me that changing her
would have been the much more preferable alternative.

Her brilliant light has been snuffed out and I'm to blame.

When she finally sleeps more peacefully, I sit beside her in despair. Silently, Rosalie enters the room,
accompanied by Esme. My sister glares at me, her mind full of anger and regret as her eyes sweep over
Bella's small form.

“We need to fix this, Edward. She doesn't deserve this.”

“I know,” I reply evenly. “I'm working on it.”

She nods after a moment, sitting down next to her and beginning to clean Bella's face with a cool rag,
wiping the perspiration gently from her skin.

“You need to hunt,” she adds after a moment. “Esme and I will stay with her. Take Emmett.”

I look at Rosalie, surprised. “Are you...sure?”

Another angry glare is directed at me. “Yes, moron. I won't hurt her.”

I backtrack quickly. “That is not what I meant to imply, I assure you. You have to understand, with your
previous disdain, I'm a little surprised-”

She snarls. “I'm sorry, okay? Just...”

Rosalie looks down at Bella with something akin to tenderness. “I was wrong, Edward,” she confesses.
“We all were. I'm so sorry.”

“Not nearly half as much as I am,” I whispered shamefully. “Take care of her while I'm out.”

She nods. “I will.”

Esme is silent during this exchange although her thoughts are full of loving sorrow for Bella and a
smidgen of pride for Rosalie.

Emmett glances up as I enter the living room. His eyes, normally so full of happiness, are dull and sad,
his expression matching that of the rest of my family members. They all love Bella nearly as much as I
do. There is regret and a tentative hope on his face as he tosses the remote on the coffee table and gets
off the couch.

“Let's go,” he says with a nod to the door. “You look like shit.”

I remain silent as we run through the forest that borders against the house. After I have slaked my thirst
I go to sit down on a boulder outcropping and Emmett lounges down beside me.

“How are you holding up, man?” he prods gently. “She'll get better, you know. I'm sure of it.”

I snort derisively. “Physically, yes. It's the emotional and mental part I'm worried about. We still don't
know what happened to her in those twelve months after she arrived in New York. Twelve months,” I
scream into the silence around us as my fist smashes into the boulder I'm sitting on; a large chunk
breaks off and hits the ground with a thud. “A whole year. And she won't tell me anything. She just
turns away to face the wall. Fuck!”

I jump off the rocks, pulling on my hair in desperation. “You should see her face, Emmett. She's
ashamed, I can see it, but I don't know why she feels that way. Is it because of the drugs? Or is there
more that she feels guilty for? Based on what I picked up on when I found her...”

I have a fairly good idea how Bella supported her drug habit and it tears me to shreds inside just to

think about other men having their hands and more on her body. I realize I cannot dwell on this –
what's done is done and there is no way to take it back. My irrational jealousy has no place in this
clusterfuck and I am disgusted with myself for even letting my mind drift in that direction. I cannot
expect her to be the innocent I left behind and I know I won't love her any less if my fears are proven
correct.

All that matters is Bella.

She has been treated abysmally, not only by men who used her, but even more so by me.

“How can I make her see that no matter what happened, there's nothing to be ashamed of? I'm the one
who caused all this – I'm the one who fucking left her. This is all my fault.”

He watches me quietly, his mind flashing with thoughts that jump all over the place. A particular image
catches my attention. I gasp, staring at him with my mouth wide open.

He looks at me hesitantly. “You have to admit, Edward, it's a viable solution. If you change her now,
the transformation will take care of the addiction. She won't need drugs as a vampire.”

“What about her emotional state?” I snarl at him, instantly angry. “What kind of newborn do you think
she'll wake up to be? Frozen in time, with a broken heart full of shame and despair? No, as much as I
would like the quick fix to cure her physically, I cannot condone her transformation until she and I have
dealt with the emotional fallout of my stupidity. I owe her that much. You know what Rosalie still
struggles with after all these years. No. I have to give her time to heal emotionally, too. If she can
forgive me...if she can love me again, I'd gladly change her whenever she wants.”

“What if she doesn't? What then?”

My knees give out and I sink to the soft ground as I consider what he's alluding to.

“She has to,” I whimper. “She's my mate.”

“Yeah, well...maybe you should have thought of that before you made us fucking abandon her.”

Emmett gets off the rock and quickly walks over to where I'm on my knees. In a move that I barely see
coming, he pulls me off the ground by my shirt and leans into my face.

“Listen, bro,” he snarls, his eyes narrowed and his teeth bared. “You can have your hissy fits later.
When Bella is healed, you can go all broody vamp if you want. Until then, you need to get your ass in
gear and take care of my little sister. Got it, asswipe? Your fault or not, you have to make it better. Your
guilt is not helping. Love her and be there for her. That is all. Now get fucking busy.”

He drags me along the woods until my legs start working properly again and I can shrug him off to
speed up, running back towards the girl I love more than anything in this world. I burst through the
front door, ignoring Alice and Jasper who have just returned from Seattle, though the sorrow on Alice's
face confirms my worst fears, and into Bella's room where Esme and Rosalie still sit, watching Bella
sleep.

I fall to my knees beside the bed, grabbing her still hand and clutching it to my chest as I sob

uncontrollably.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry.”

Her fingers move in my hand and my eyes fly to her face, watching with bated breath as her lids flutter
like a butterfly's wings and then open to reveal the dark orbs that are the pathway to her soul. She
blinks a few times, her face contorts with pain and I hiss at Esme to close the curtains and to mute the
light in the room.

And then I apologize for hissing at her. She smiles indulgently but it doesn't reach her eyes as she pulls
Rosalie out of the room with her.

“Let us know if you need anything.”

I nod, refusing to look away from the broken girl lying in the bed before me.

Bella licks her lips and her eyes find mine.

“Edward.” Her voice is raw, a mere whisper.

“Yes, Bella, I'm here,” I reply, stating the obvious but unable to help myself. I force a small smile.

“Edward,” she whispers again.

“What do you need? What can I do?”

“Water,” she rasps and I'm already grabbing the cup with the straw that sits on the small table beside
the bed.

“Here,” I say as I lift her head gently and hold the straw to her lips. “Let me help you.”

She sucks greedily, the cool liquid flowing into her mouth, and she swallows a few gulps before she
releases the straw and her head falls back.

“Thank you,” she breathes and closes her eyes for a moment.

“Are you hungry? Esme made some chicken soup for you. It's not time yet for your meds,” I add
preemptively because I know she has to be hurting from the withdrawal she is going through.

The blood Carlisle drew from Bella when I first arrived with her has been tested and revealed fairly
high levels of crack cocaine and marijuana. The puncture marks in Bella's arms have begun to fade.
Esme has cut her fingernails short after Bella scratched her own face during her delirium of quitting the
drugs. Those, too, are beginning to slowly heal.

She nods in answer to my question.

“Esme,” I say quickly, “would you mind bringing up some soup for Bella?”

“I'd be happy to. Perhaps some toast as well?”

“That would be lovely, thank you,” I reply as I softly swipe Bella's damp hair from her face and tuck
the blanket under her arms. I raise the bed up a little so she can sit up and lean forward to kiss her
forehead.

“Soup and toast will arrive momentarily,” I tell her. “Are you still thirsty?”

Bella shakes her head and her eyes, fully lucid for the first time in days, search my own. She reaches
out her hand and I grasp it quickly.

“Why-,” she clears her throat, “why am I here? Why did you bring me here? Why now?”

I swallow hard as I prepare myself to tell the truth.

“Because I don't want you to die. Because I was an unimaginable bastard to leave you. Because I
cannot live without you.”

She scoffs at my words. “Oh please. What the fuck ever.”

Her language has gotten much more colorful over the years we've been apart but my vampire ears
detect the underlying pain in her words and so I nod.

“I realize that it will take more than just a few pretty words to make you trust me again after I betrayed
you so hideously. I hope you'll believe me though when I say that I will do whatever it takes to
convince you that I'm telling the truth. I love you, Bella. I've always loved you and I will always love
you.”

Her eyes close again, her head drops to her chest and a lone tear travels from her dark lashes down her
pale face. Bella takes a deep breath as she looks at me again.

“Three years, Edward,” she rasps. “Three fucking years without a word, without any contact. And you
want me to believe that you loved me all this time?”

She coughs again and I reach for the water to offer it to her. In a move that I don't see coming she flings
her hand against the cup and it flies across the bed, hitting the floor with a wet thud.

“Three fucking years,” she yells as her voice gets stronger. “You left me in the woods after ripping out
my heart. I died that day, Edward. Don't come riding in as some knight in shining armor and tell me
that you don't want me to die. You killed me when you told me you didn't love me anymore.”

“I lied to you, Bella,” I confess, shamed and anguished by her righteous outburst. “I lied, thinking that I
was protecting you from my world and myself. It was the hardest thing I ever had to do, walking away
from you.”

Bella growls. “You fucking prick! What right do you have to make that kind of decision for me? It was
my choice to make, not yours.”

I hang my head. “I know that now. I'm so sorry, Bella.”

“And you're still making decisions for me, aren't you? Did you ever ask me if I wanted to be saved?”

Her voice is bitter and resigned.

“The things I've done since you left...”

Bella turns away from me towards the window and rashly pulls her hand from my grasp as she curls
into a ball on the bed.

“Please tell Esme I'm not hungry anymore. I want to be alone now.”

“But, Bella,” I sputter, “you should-”

“You don't get to tell me what I should and shouldn't do,” she snarls as she whips her head around and
her eyes spit fire. “You lost that right a long time ago.”

“Bella, please...”

“Just go, Edward. Leave. You're good at that.” She turns back to the wall.

I've effectively been dismissed and though my frozen heart breaks, I have no option but to comply.

The door shuts softly behind me and the click of the lock echoes loudly in the hole in my chest.

TBC