Don't You Forget About Me By 107yearoldvirgin

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/7048458/1/

(Prologue)

hollow soul

with empty eyes

no pleasure from your kiss derived

shallow heart

with wordless lies

camouflaged by open thighs

And still I yearn

and crave

and cry

to be with you until I die

The room is quiet except for the sound of Edward's paper as he crinkles it
between his hands, shifting back into his seat as his words die off and settle
around us.

The piece of gum I am chewing on is suddenly gone and it takes me a moment to
realize that my mouth is hanging wide open and the gum has fallen to the cold
tile floor beneath my little chair that I am sitting cross-legged in.

I'll need to pick that up before Group is dismissed.

No one speaks, and I don't even bother looking around the room at the other
misfits assembled on either side of me. They're probably equally as shocked by
what Edward has just read as I am. I mean, who knew we had 2011's version of
the pervtastic e.e. cummings in our little group?

I've been here for less than two weeks, and apparently I have only learned one
thing:

Edward's ex girlfriend is a soulless whore.

She most likely cheated on the guy, even though he's ridiculously cute, as far as
I'm concerned.

Which is unfortunate, considering that we're in a mental institution.

And he believes that he is dead.

Picking at the skin around my cuticles, I sigh.

Recovery is gonna be a bitch.

(Introductions)

Suicide isn't funny.

It's just…not. Socially, it's not something that you joke about. But I can honestly
say, without the slightest hint of sarcasm, that it could be considered funny when
it becomes as clumsily botched as my attempt was.

Let me backtrack by saying that the first time I wanted to kill myself, I was six
years old.

I know, I know. That mental picture has probably made some of you stop in your
tracks. Six, you say?

Yeah.

I remember holding a knife in my kitchen, somewhere around two o'clock in the
morning, and just wondering what it would be like to die. At some point I'd seen
a television show where this little girl was holding a butcher knife in her hand and
her little brother came tearing around the corner without warning, and he
impaled himself on it.

I think he was three years old?

Anyway, my Mom and Dad had gone on and on about what a horrible tragedy it
was, and I'd been fascinated by their reactions because they barely even paid me
the time of day, yet they were mourning the blood loss of a three year old. I
suppose I'm one of those crazy bitches who gets jealous of people that
experience tragedies. Like the girls who wished they could fall into a well like that
baby Jessica. Or the girls who lamented not being held hostage overseas like
Jessica Lynch.

Come to think of it, maybe I just wanted to be named Jessica?

Sorry. Reeling it back in.

By the time I was twelve, I knew that wristcutters who went from side to side
were just crying out for attention. If you wanted it done right, you went up and
down. And you didn't talk about it or cry about it, you just did it. Kind of like my
friend in Middle School who was a cutter wannabe. She would talk about how she
wanted to. She would cry about how she almost did it. She would call her cousin
three states over in the middle of the night to confess how she'd wanted to do it
but hadn't and blah blah blah.

The first time I did it, I shoved a thumbtack into my hand. Just like that. Then I
went about my day.

I guess the reason I finally decided to let it all go was because I didn't really have
anything to stick around for. See, I'm what you'd call, 'invisible'.

Like, people don't see me.

I'm not exaggerating. My nickname is Invisibella. My Dad gave it to me when I
was five because he stepped on me. All. The. Time.

Like, I just wasn't there. He couldn't hear me or see me and I didn't really exist
until I cried because he'd flattened my big toe under his cop boot. And it stayed
that way through his divorce from my Mom. Through the onset of puberty.
Through my High School career.

So, the last day of junior year, I went home and cleaned my room. I made a
small list of belongings that I wanted to be given to charity, since I had no real
friends to speak of, and then I wrote a little letter to my Dad telling him I was
sorry in advance for the mess.

Here's where things start to get a little hairy. Literally.

I was in the bathtub, taking deep breaths and talking out the last dialogue I'd
ever have with my subconscious. The water was super hot and I noticed that it
was making my legs really, really pink. Which drew my attention to my calves
and how damn hairy they were. I got to thinking that maybe I shouldn't leave the
Earth with hairy as hell legs, being that I wasn't sure if it would be open
casket…and if that was a full body thing or not.

Like, would my dad, Charlie, in all his mustacheo'd glory, gaze down at my pale
visage and cry because, not only had he lost his daughter, but he also couldn't
bury her in a short skirt or sundress? It's the constant rambling thoughts in my
head that get me in the most trouble, you see. I'm always getting distracted by
my internal debates and whatnot; arguing with myself over useless shit and
getting caught up in details that legitimately don't matter.

That's how I screwed up my own suicide. I got distracted by the thought of
wearing an Amish style, floor-length dress in a casket.

So, I went to town on shaving my legs. Then higher, because, let's face it: if I
was gonna start something, I was gonna finish it. That was not the time to do
things half-assed, you know?

Which is when I got all tangled up with my head bent down next to my never-
used-vagina.

And I fell.

Head first into the side of the porcelain tub.

With my razor in my hand, a tub full of hairy soap water, and a suicide note on
my nightstand.

I woke up with a bandage on my head, a tiny ass flashlight in my eye, and my
hands restrained on the gurney by my side.

And so was my introduction to the Washington Hospital suicide watch group thing
I was in now. I'd been poked and prodded and medicated to almost zombie status
before they moved me down a grey hallway, across taupe floors, behind silver
metal doors and onto a twin sized cot with starched white sheets; sharing a room
with another failed suicide attempt in the form of a Nordic Ice Queen who
suffered from bulimia and a rough case of narcissism.

Like I said, I've been here less than two weeks. But I'm getting used to it, I
suppose.

At this moment, the toilet is clogged again, and I know it's because my
roommate, Rose, has just regurgitated her last 'meal', which consisted of some
sort of off putting white stuff with a fuzzy yellow thing where the side dish usually

goes. It wasn't real food, but it was ours. And we were expected to eat it,
regardless.

Rose just doesn't see the point in eating at all.

It simply requires her to throw it up later and at this point she isn't really sure
that she wants to put forth the effort.

I had called her a Real Life Barbie Doll inside my mind one day, because she's
ridiculously tall and blonde and perfect…and Edward had mumbled under his
breath that I was being stupid or something like that.

And I'd gotten up the courage to ask him, "Did you say something, Edward?"

To which he'd kinda shrugged, because he didn't like to move too much… on
account of him thinking that he was actually dead and a vampire or zombie or
something, which would make him really rigor mortis-y and unable to move very
well as it was. His bony shoulder had bobbed once and I'd watched from above
my knees that were pulled up to my nose as he'd looked across the table at me,
his grey-green eyes meeting mine for only the smallest of seconds. "It's
redundant to say 'Real Life Barbie'. Barbie was sculpted after a real woman. A
German prostitute."

Make that two things I've learned since I've been here.

In that small space of time I'd forgotten all about Rose while Edward was
speaking.

Because he'd looked at me like I actually existed. I'd paid no mind that he had
read my thoughts and known what I'd said without me speaking it.

That was my second day here and I'm pretty sure it was the day I started to get
a small crush on Edward. Not that he'd ever want to be with someone like me.
But, in this place? We're all the same. We're all here for the same reason.

My evidence was on my head in the form of a huge lump and green bruise.

Rose's was in her inability to eat after getting her stomach pumped of an entire
bottle of Tylenol PM. Her story was imbedded in the scabs and missing skin along
her knuckles, and the teeth marks across the tops of her fingers. The yellowed
edges of her fingernails and brittleness of her hair. The smell of bile on her breath
that permeated our small room like a horribly funky Glade Plug-In.

Edward's evidence…well, see, the thing about Edward is that he's tall. Like,
almost six and a half feet. He tried to auto-asphyxiate himself in his closet. It had
to do with the ex girlfriend, I take it. All weirdly sexual, and yet, 'confessional' at
the same time. His reminder had been the bruises around his neck that had faded
faster than any of the rest of our 'tells'.

Except, Edward had awoken under the assumption that he had actually
succeeded in killing himself and that he was, and is, at this very moment…dead. I
guess he just thinks this is Purgatory? He uses Group time as confessional. We
just listen. It's what we're here for. What the hell else are we gonna do?

Then there's Alice, an almost six foot tall behemoth, who isn't massive in weight
or anything, but she's certainly not four foot nothing and seventy pounds like her
Reverse Body Dysmorphic Syndrome would lead her to believe. She walks around
all the time talking about how tiny she is and we all just have to nod our heads

because she's totally not, but none of us can tell her that. The last time someone
told her that she'd tried to throw herself into oncoming traffic.

All because a girl at Abercrombie tried to give her pants in a size eight, instead of
the zero that Alice swears she wears.

Apparently her mom usually did all of her shopping for her, tearing out the sizes
on the clothes and whatnot to accommodate Alice's level of unbalance.

I appreciate her mom's commitment to enabling Alice to that extent. It really
shows she cares…

Then there's Jasper, the blonde emo kid who is convinced he's an empath, and
tried to end his life because he couldn't take 'feeling' other people's pain. He's
always walking around lamenting and moaning about how much it hurts to feel all
of our distress, and how he's dying on the inside from it. He also tells us all what
we're feeling and is usually, almost always, incorrect.

Let's be real, here. We're all way too medicated to feel anything.

Lastly, is Emmett. A bully in his own right, he decided to try and outrun the alien
that had inhabited his father's body. According to Emmett, the only safety he
could find was in death because his father's pod person couldn't follow him into
the afterlife. Imagine a huge linebacker being carried into an Emergency Room,
foaming at the mouth from trying to overdose on prescription pills and screaming
that he was being abducted by his alien father.

In truth, he's probably the least messed up of all of us.

I've heard of other kids that were in before us that had different problems. Like
that one kid, Jake, who actually thought he was a dog. He was constantly pissing
on the floor and humping legs.

There was a kid named James who had gotten so far into his delusion that he was
Napoleon Bonaparte, that he would stand in the hallway with his hand tucked into
his shirt, full attention given to the wall in front of him while he murmured under
his breath about being a dealer of hope … and benches covered in velvet.

I'd heard about a girl who thought she was a washing machine. She stood in her
room and shuffled around in circles making washing machine sounds until her
cycle was done.

Some kid named Aaron swore that he was God. And I half wondered how many of
the residents and patients had a second or two of doubt about him being the
second coming of Christ. But I'm sure his Call of Duty addiction and smoking
habit made their minds feel more at ease.

And how do I know all of these things? Because I'm a ghost. I 'm invisible. You
hear a lot of things when you don't really exist. When no one sees you.

When you're not even here, it's easy to slip by unnoticed. Even in Group, when
I'm supposed to be talking. I let my five minutes run out, most of the time. I talk
to myself in my head, because I'm the only one that listens to me.

Except, Edward, that one time.

He heard me.

I'd need to be more careful with my thoughts while I was here, if dead people
could read minds.

(9 a.m.)

I like to watch Edward eat. He's very methodical about it and I guess it's a little
soothing to watch? Maybe its the way he holds his fork, like he's afraid that
bending his fingers too far will break them in half. Or like they'll fall off. It's just
fascinating to me.

Or maybe I'm just gross…I know.

Sometimes I sketch little pictures of him in the notebook I'm required to carry
around. They're not full sketches, just little ones of his eyes or his mouth. An
eyebrow. A mole. I get really, really fixated on the details and before I know it,
time has flown by and a meal is over, marking the start of another class or
therapy session.

I unfold myself from the fetus I am mimicking in my chair, unwrapping my arms
from my knees and letting my feet drop to the floor. Eyeing every last person
who walks by to see if they acknowledge me, I wait for even one person to so
much as glance at me. No one does and it doesn't surprise me in the least.

The medication that they give me makes me feel sluggish and tired, but super
focused on every last thing I see. It's a pretty okay compromise, considering how
horrible I felt the weeks before my flubbed 'tub-icide' attempt. I'd stopped taking
my Effexor, and the headaches, along with the anxiety, were enough to do me in.
But add to that the constant buzzing and equilibrium shifting that accompanied
each movement of my eyes... that was what had finally driven me over the edge.

It was like this tiny, tiny little bumble bee had taken residence in my brain,
buzzing every time I looked left or right. Then my heart would palpitate and I'd
get even more lightheaded. Then came the rolling stomach. And that was
promptly followed by the inevitable nagging feeling that I wanted to step out of
my own skin. Like it just didn't fit anymore. All of it was too much. Factor in all of
my incessant inner ramblings, and it was no wonder I'd figured it would be better
to die.

At least, that's what the doctor and nurses say about me when they look at my
chart and folders.

Now, I was straight.

Well, as straight as one could be in a loony bin, I suppose.

I just really hated the fact that my clumsiness had actually saved my life, I think.
Stupid 'curse is a blessing' pseudo-karmic life altering bullshit...

Everyone cleared the dining room, leaving me surrounded by plates of yellow egg
substance. I wasn't too keen on going to therapy today because Dr. Cullen had
mentioned that we would be trying something new that he'd come up with. And
with as much as I appreciated his attempts at 'fixing' us, I didn't foresee anything
good that could come from some weird, uncertified, research project from the hot
doctor.

Did I mention the doctor is stupid hot? No? Because he is. And I'm pretty sure his
fine, blonde ass is getting it on with his redheaded nurse, Esme, in his office on a
regular.

Instead of wasting any more time over-thinking it, I shuffle down the hallway
with my notebook and keep my head down as I find walk into the group therapy
room and take my usual seat across the circle of chairs from Edward.

The view is really good of him from here.

Dr. Cullen is waiting for us as we find our seats in, and immediately I am filled
with dread. He's got this look on his face that can only be described as ...
Machiavellian. Once we're all seated, he smiles wide and taps his pen against his
clipboard in rapid succession. "Welcome back. Don't get too comfortable in your
chairs just yet. Because, today, you'll be involved in something brand new. If
you'll all follow me to the library, I'll give you more instruction."

Seriously? Why didn't he just have us meet there?

"I guess he wanted to make sure he didn't interrupt our routine too much,"
Edward murmured behind me.

The hell? Either he was my soul mate and we were destined to be together or he
was actually reading my mind.

I keep staring forward as we are led to the library, which is uncharacteristically
empty for this time of day. My eyes seek out the seating arrangements and I
breathe a sigh of relief seeing that there are quite a few tables and numerous
chairs in various places for us to choose from. I call dibs on the overstuffed one
next to the fireplace.

In my head, of course.

Cullen ushers us all in front of the first table and he smiles with encouragement.
"So, today? You'll be participating in a little PHP."

A collective confused silence follows his announcement.

"Peers Helping Peers," he explains.

And that is met with a group groan.

"That's bullshit, doc," Emmett calls as he crosses his huge arms over his broad
chest. I catch the not so subtle way that Rose is looking at his biceps, licking her
lips.

Looks like she's hungry for something…

She whips her head around to glare at me and I drop my gaze to the floor,
avoiding her caustic stare for fear I may turn into an invisible pillar of salt.

The good doctor gives a good-hearted laugh and points to a camera mounted
above the exit. "You'll still be supervised. No worries. But, group therapy doesn't
seem to be working for all of you." Immediately, all eyes are on me.

Oh shit. They see me.

I swallow the lump of fear in my throat and look away towards the camera above
the exit again.

"For the next eight hours, you'll sit here with your peers and try to get them to
open up to you. I want you to describe to me, in detail, exactly what you've
learned about one another by the end of the day. Why are you here? Lunch will
be served to you right in this very room, so you won't need to leave. The
bathrooms are available to you, as well as the balcony for you to smoke on." He
eyes each of us carefully. "You're responsible for one another today. And don't for
a second think that I won't be watching. I'm just a shout away if you need
anything. Otherwise, we begin …" he glances up at the clock above the Librarian's
desk and we all hold our breath as the skinny black hand hits the six, signaling
nine-thirty, "now." With another smile, he turns and retreats through our only
portal of escape.

Jasper lets out a loud, whiny sigh. "How can you be happy about this?" He asks
Rose and huffs by her to sit down roughly in a chair.

Rose's eyes get big and she looks at him like he's well, crazy. "I'm not even
remotely happy about this."

Jasper rolls his eyes. "Right." Adjusting his hooded blue sweatshirt over his head,
he places his face nose-down on the table and covers his head with both hands.
Like he's trying to protect himself from nuclear fall out.

Alice paces a little, back and forth around the big comfy chair that I already called
dibs on. I chew my lip in diluted despair as she sizes it up. "I would get lost
between the cushions of this thing," she marvels.

Riiiight.

Inevitably, she makes her way to another, much smaller chair, and fidgets
endlessly as her knees dig into the underside of the table.

Edward takes a seat far off to the side of the great window and I follow behind
him a little, glad that the overstuffed chair is in the same area. I mean, I'd
already called it in my head. It was just that much more appealing since Edward
would be a foot away from it.

Emmett is pacing back and forth, muttering under his breath. "Bullshit. Just.
Bullshit."

I watch everyone with detached interest.

A least we have books to read.

Cigs to smoke.

A pot to piss in.

"I'm not writing this out. We'll give him one sheet of paper. One." Emmett turns
and points at the camera, holding up his middle finger. "Hear that, Cullen? One
paper." He's agitated as he scans the room and his attention lands on Edward.
"Let him write it. He's always writing something in that little notebook of his."
Emmett makes a motion towards the side of the room where the skinny, not-
dead-boy is nose to page with said notebook.

"Just, someone do it. We need to figure out how to get out of here." Rose's voice
is scratchy as she whispers through the pain in her throat. I notice some spittle
fly from between her lips and land on the table in front of her as she takes her
seat.

It's tinged pink from blood.

But her words have multiple meanings, as far as I'm concerned.

We need to get out of this room.

Out of this little psych experiment of Dr. Cullen's.

But most importantly...out of this hospital.

(10 a.m.)

I'm fascinated with the strings attached to the neck of my hooded sweatshirt. The
edges are frayed and faded a different hue of burgundy than the rest of it. Except
the very, very tips that I keep pulling at with my front teeth, making them wet
and pointy.

No one has spoken in well over thirty minutes and I wonder how long the silence
will continue before Carlisle comes in and loses his shit, screaming at all of us for
being 'hard headed teenagers'.

Like any of us would talk to one another outside of these walls? Why should it be
any different just because we'd all made the same decision and had the exact
same consequence?

Emmett has taken up residence on the Librarian's desk, his long, thick legs
swinging outward and making rhythmic thumps with each connection of his heels
to the desk. "This sucks!" he yells as loud as he can while staring at the camera.

"Then do something about it," comes Edward's reply. It is quiet and controlled,
just like his movements, and I stop licking the ends of my strings, dropping them
so that i can turn in my chair to see him clearer. He isn't even looking at Emmett.
Edward is writing in his notebook again, unfazed by the angry glowering that is
being thrown at him from the bigger guy.

"Like what, zombie boy?" Emmett scoots to the end of the desk and I turn even
more slowly this time, making sure to keep my head down until my nose is being
hidden by the armrest and only my eyes and forehead are above it.

Edward's body rocks forward stiffly and he sits up straighter to flip to a clean
page in his journal. "Tell us why you're here. I'll write it down. We'll just do the …
assignment." The tips of his ears are bright, bright red from embarrassment. And
I wonder how he could legitimately think he was one of the walking dead when it
was clear as day that blood was flowing in his veins.

I wonder if blood flowed other places...

His eyes blink a few times before he glances at me quickly with a frown. I drop
my head lower behind the armrest, upset at myself for having forgotten about his
abilities.

Emmett sits in silence, rocking back and forth slowly on the desk, as his anger
builds. Suddenly, he propels himself off of the desk and toward Edward, pushing
aside chairs as he goes. One by one they scatter and I feel like I'm about to
watch a murder occur.

Carlisle will surely have to intervene if someone gets hurt, right?

Emmett stretches his neck in what would appear to be an almost menacing
manner before he leans over the table and hovers nose to nose with Edward.
"What would you like to know, Dead Guy?"

Edward simply stays still, waiting for Emmett to inevitably crack his own glass.
Most bad guys in movies do that, you know. They divulge too much because of
the pain...

"You want to know about my Dad? Should I tell you some sob story about my
Mom? Tell you that she ran away when I was eight and left me and my Dad in a
trailer that we couldn't even afford?"

Edward's hand wavers just the tiniest bit before he moves his head back stiffly
and leans his face closer to the book, the pen readied for dictation. "You were
eight?"

The air is practically crackling with anger sparks coming off of Emmett. But
Edward? He's fireproof.

Emmett is almost shaking, he's trying so hard to control his temper. And this
makes Jasper sit up and regard him with distaste. "Are you getting turned on by
this?"

Emmett looks like he's been slapped in the face. "Emo kid. Are you serious right
now?"

Jasper sighs and pulls his hoodie lower in his forehead. This, for some reason,
makes Alice start laughing. And she doesn't have a dainty laugh, this one. No. It's
an ugly, ugly loud snort laugh that makes her entire body shake and suddenly the
table she's at is being lifted and set down over and over because her knees won't
settle.

This giant at this tiny table in this super small chair is losing it over an emo boy in
a hoodie who thinks he's a mood reader. And sucks at it.

My medication at least allows me to see the humor in it.

But there's one thing about Alice: her ugly laugh is quite contagious, and before I
know it, Emmett is laughing too, and Rose is trying her hardest to laugh without
coughing, but failing miserably. Jasper looks around, annoyed, before he jumps
up from his seat and stomps off toward the balcony to have a cigarette.

I'm immediately inclined to follow, but stay where I am because Edward is
watching everything around us with such disdain. Like we're keeping him from
getting to where he thinks he actually needs to be.

It occurs to me that any and every direction Doc Cullen gives us is then turned
around in Edward's mind to be the next step in his long line of penance for his
sins.

The others wrap up their laugh-a-thon at Jasper's expense, and Emmett ends up
leaning against the table to look over the page that Edward is holding his pen to,
as still as possible. "Doesn't that shit hurt?" Emmett asks, his chin nodding
toward Edward's stiff neck and shoulders.

"Living hurts. Death is easy," Edward responds quietly. "That's why I want to get
on with this so that I can cross over."

My mouth screws up like I've just eaten a lemon and I fight to keep my words
inside. Brain Bella has marched across the room and slapped Edward's face,
screaming at the top of her lungs, "NEWSFLASH! YOU'RE. NOT. DEAD. EDWARD!"
And she's pulling him in for a passionate kiss to prove it.

Lucky bitch.

Alice leans back in her chair and looks over at me fleetingly before cramming
herself back under her table. Rose goes back to picking at her split ends and
Emmett sighs, suddenly deflated after his outburst.

I wonder if he's on a time released prescription. It would make sense...

Emmett clears his throat and points a finger at Edward's paper. "Here. After that
bit about by mom leaving, add that my Dad became a raging, functioning
alcoholic who took it out me every day for eight years."

My blood runs cold as I listen to him discuss what happened.

"Write down that, once I turned sixteen, I hit a growth spurt. Started really
playing football, not just for fun, but for...I dunno," his hand circles in the air as
he thinks, "an anger outlet."

Edward nods and jots down the notes.

"And then, write in there that on Christmas Day, when I was just about to turn
seventeen, my dad beat me so hard that I was in the hospital for three weeks.
And when I got released, those assholes sent me back to him."

Rose shifts in her seat and I notice that Jasper has snuck back in quietly, bringing
the amazing after-cigarette waft of air that fills my nose and makes my nic fit hit
overdrive. But I'm stuck watching it all unfold. I can't leave now.

Emmett clears his throat again, taking the opportunity to crack his knuckles. "I'd
planned all of it out, you know. When i got back to the house, I was gonna kill
him." He shrugs and looks away toward the camera again. "But wouldn't you
know, Doc?" He's yelling like Carlisle can hear him. "My Daddy done went and got
himself saved!" Emmett waves his fingers in some sort of holy dance. "He got
saved. Real good." The thick Southern accent is a put-on, but I get it.

"Here I was, thinking I'd go home and take care of him once and for all, and
suddenly...suddenly he's saved? Turned a new leaf?" Emmett's laughs darkly.
"Like that shit actually happens? He's just suddenly gonna stop being...him? So, I
waited." He steps away from Edward and backs up, raking his hand over his face
slowly. "I waited every damn day to see him slip up, just the tiniest bit."

I'm now aware that I'm holding my breath, but I don't care. Cullen's...shit...is
working.

Emmett makes a face. "He never did. Never cracked." His eyes gloss over a bit
and I can tell now that he is on a time release, and it's working. "There was no
way a man like that could change. It had to be something else. I researched it."
He stops moving to gaze over coolly at Edward. "My Dad's an alien. That's all
there is to it. He's a host body. And, with as much as I hated him before, I sure
as shit won't let some alien pod person live in my house with me..."

My heart sinks a little as I watch him stumble back a little more and he turns to
look at the camera, holding up one finger. "One down, Doc." Looking tired and a

bit defeated, he leans against the desk again, taking in a deep, deep breath.
"Now, who's next?"

No one moves.

Emmett reclines back onto his elbows and stares up at the ceiling for what feels
like forever, but is actually only two minutes according to the clock above his
head. "Tell you what," he starts, pushing himself back upright. He points to the
great window and the balcony just beyond it. "I'm gonna go have a smoke. I
don't give a rat's ass which of you losers goes next. But the decision better be
made by the time I make it back in here. I don't plan on taking my sweet time,
either. So make it quick."

And with that, he's gone. Out on the balcony, smoking a cigarette, with billows of
grey smoke puffing up around his head. I really want one, but don't want to be
out there alone with him.

Instead, I look around at the rest of the group and silently wonder when they'll
give up the goods. No one acknowledges anyone else, and I glance quickly over
at Edward to see him scribbling on a fresh new piece of paper. I want to see it,
but since he's the only one who can really see or hear me, I don't know how I'll
get over there without him knowing.

A minute later, I am given my chance because he gets up ever so slowly, taking
his time as his supposed rotting bones bear the weight of his upper body, and he
lumbers off at a snail's pace to pee. I know that no one else will see me, so I roll
out of the chair and slide across the floor on my hands and knees until I am
directly next to Edward's chair.

With a swift push upward, I snatch the journal with my hand and pull it down
beneath the table, looking over his impeccable hand writing. Its another poem
and I squint to read it, his script is so small.

soft brown eyes

freckled nose

slender fingers

and tiny toes

palest skin

of milky rose

calls to me

beneath your clothes

I look away from his notebook quickly, feeling heat rise in my cheeks and color
them bright red. Hastily, I shove the book back onto the table and scurry on bent
knees to the table in front of the one Edward has been sitting at. Resting my
head against my extended arm, I suppress a smile, crossing my feet at the
ankles and securing them on the small metal bar beneath the plastic chair.

I'm the only one in the group with brown eyes.

Except for Emmett...

And I'm pretty sure that, even in death, Edward wouldn't want that bear.

Fate seems to be on a collision course as I hear the sound of the balcony doors
opening at the exact same time as the bathroom door. Emmett walks with
purpose across the floor, directly in the same path as Edward. And they meet in
the middle, their intersecting bodies turned just slightly away from one another.

Emmett lifts his eyebrows in question. "Did you guys choose?"

Rose clears her sore throat and hisses out a no.

Emmett shrugs and points a finger at Edward. "Then, how about you tell us about
that girlfriend of yours that made you into a vampire?"

(10:30 a.m.)

Edward is as closed to pissed as I've ever seen him. Standing face to face with
Emmett makes their height and stature all the more apparent. Emmett looks like
he could snap poor Edward in half. But the skinnier boy's eyes could burn a hole
in the beefy one's forehead.

"Come on, Edward." Emmett is stepping even closer, making the air crackle with
tension. "Talk about her. You know you want to. Was she blond?"

Edward's jaw tightens and he looks even more rigid than he usually does. "Shut
up."

Emmett mocks him, making his shoulders stiff and setting his eyes in a stare.
"You don't like blonds?" His eyes flicker towards me for a moment and I am
suddenly aware just how exposed I am at this table instead of behind the
cushions of the chair. "Redhead, then?"

Edward takes a calming breath and steps back. "Not my type."

Alice shifts against the table for the thousandth time and I bite my tongue to
scream at her to take the overstuffed chair now that I've abandoned it.

Emmett, however, does not bite his tongue. "Listen, Jolly Green Giant. Can you
do us all a favor and find a chair that fits? You're like damn Goldilocks, breaking
shit over there."

The confusion on Alice's face is priceless, but there's no time to dwell on it.
Edward has turned to walk back to his seat and Emmett has decided that the
other boy isn't getting off that easily. "I bet she had brown hair, huh? Maybe
brown eyes, too? Was she real tiny and kinda pale? Because I think you do have
a type, Dracula."

"Jessica is none of your damn business," Edward replies in this low, menacing
way. Only, I don't have time to really think how his tone makes me feel because
he's revealed his ex girlfriend's name.

I knew I hated Jessica's for a reason.

Rose turns in her seat and watches the scene with some type of horrified interest.
"Leave him alone," she rasps. "He'll tell us his story when he's ready."

"No," Emmett replies. "I don't think I like that very much. See? I went ahead and
did mine, so someone else has to go. And as far as I'm concerned, MentalWard
should go next. How about that? Each person that goes can choose the next
confession. Sound good?"

The rest of the group members, including myself, are silent.

"Come on, man. It was so easy for you to get me to tell you my shit, right? How
come you can't fess up?" He looks around for a second before locating the jacket
he brought in with him and crossing over to rummage around in the pockets. "It's
about your girl, right? Then how about we get some music going to help you
out?" He holds up his iPod and scrolls through his list of music, the soft clicks that
emit from the tiny device only enhancing the tension in the room. A devious look
comes over his face as he chooses the song and turns triumpantly to face us
again.

Emmett cranks the volume as loud as possible so that the music is bleeding
through his headphones. He starts pumping his arms in front of him and popping
his ass like a stripper, bouncing his head as he sings as loud as he can in
Edward's direction. "Got me lookin' so crazy right now, your love got me lookin'
so crazy right now."

Edward just stares, his whole body rigid.

Emmett's dancing becomes more exaggerated as his pelvis starts thrusting. "Uh
oh, uh oh, uh oh, oh no no..."

Have we reached the musical montage portion of this little experiment? Because,
I haven't gotten my make over yet...

Emmett stops dancing and pulls his ear bud from his ear, staring straight at me
in amused disbelief. "What did you say?"

Shit. Apparently I said that out loud.

My entire face feels like its on fire as his eyes bore into mine and he takes a step
in my direction. "I didn't say anything," I call to him timidly.

"Buuuuull. Shiiiit." Emmett laughs, walking closer. "You know you mumble all the
time, right? Like, you say everything. Out. Loud."

It can't be true.

"It is," he laughs meanly. "You don't even know that you just said that, do you?"

My lips turn inward and I hold them still with my teeth, suddenly so embarrassed.
How could I have been so stupid? I talk all of my thoughts out loud?

Taking a chance, I turn in my chair and look over my shoulder at Edward who is
watching the situation between Emmett and I with a new found anger on his face.
I could have sworn we were soul mates. That he could read my thoughts...

His last poem was probably about Jessica, not me...

Edward's face moves quickly to acknowledge that I've just said his exes' name
out loud, and I half expect that he's going to scream like hes in pain because he's
moved so fast that surely his skin has come loose and his decrepit bones are
going to break.

Instead, we stare at one another for what feels like half of a lifetime, here in this
vast space of three feet between us. I feel naked and exposed under his scrutiny
and I can tell that I'm beginning to lose it, wanting to run and hide under another
table or back in the back of some bookcase where I can't be found until Carlisle
decides our torture is up.

Edward's mouth opens just the tiniest bit, his eyes still trailed on me. "I'll go," he
murmurs, allowing Emmett's torment to turn from me back to Edward in an
instant. "Just leave Bella alone and I'll tell you my story, okay?"

He knows my name...

Emmet shrugs, turning off the iPod and charging forward quickly to take the chair
beside Edward and spinning it around so that he can straddle it. Edward leans
back stiffly, clearly not enjoying the close proximity. He glances from Emmett to
me and then ends up looking down at his notebook instead of at anyone.

"You want to know...about me and Jessica."

We all wait in tense silence.

"She was my girlfriend for two years. I was in ... love...with her." Edward clears
his throat and presses on. "She always wanted to have sex. But I was raised
differently. I didn't want her to think that I just wanted to be with her for that
reason. I kept telling her over and over that we should wait. That it would be
worth it. I had our whole lives planned out; how every last detail of it would
happen. We'd go to Prom. To college. I'd propose the right way and we'd get
married and then we would have sex. All the time. I planned on having sex with
her all the time."

My heart twisted painfully in my chest and I closed my eyes as the picture of poor
Edward wanting to just be right for this ungrateful girl began to take form in my
mind.

"But she couldn't wait. Or, wouldn't...wait." His voice has dropped to almost a
whisper and I wait, holding my breath for what I know he's going to say next.
"She was sleeping around. With, like...everyone." His eyes go wide at the
enormous number of sexual partners he's envisioning as he says it.

Edward sighs and runs his long finger across the open pages of his notebook. "I
saw her. I'd come to her house to set up a surprise for her and ask her to the
Prom. Her parents trusted me..." He shook his head slowly at the words. "Of
course they did. They left me a key and I'd let myself in to go up to her room.
And I knew...I knew what the sounds were that were coming form her room. And
I should have run. I should have...I don't know...I don't know."

Emmett has his chin resting on his hands across the back of his chair and he
looks legitimately bad for Edward. "You caught her making the beast with two
backs with another dude when you went into her room?"

"Three," Edward responds, almost inaudibly.

The hell?

"Three," Edward repeats, looking at me. "Three guys." His face falls in sadness.
"Did you know that one girl could be with that many guys at once? That she had
enough...like...holes or appendages to be able to do that?" His mouth twists up in
a painful grimace. "I mean, I tried to chart it out and I suppose there could

actually be five guys, maybe six, eight if her feet are involved, but it just seems
like a lot of work..."

My mind flashes through the scenario he was trying to describe and I can't
fathom what he'd seen. I'd need to see if someone else could detail it for me.

"The one thing I wanted to keep for us...the only thing I asked her to wait
for...she didn't care about me enough to wait. So, after I made a scene at her
house, I went home and ... you know ..." His ears had grown red again and I
wondered why he couldn't just say it.

This time I manage to keep it inside and not speak it aloud.

Jasper moves from his seat and walks over tentatively to lean against the table.
"You were super turned on, huh? Went home and whacked it?"

Edward's mouth falls open in surprise. "What? No! I was disgusted. Disgusted,
man. Not turned on!"

Jasper holds his hands up on defense. "We know you were doing that when you,"
he makes a motion around his neck like a noose.

Edward's ears get even more red as he glances at me and then at the guys to his
left. "I wanted to know what the big deal was. What she would ruin our entire
lives for. I was just about to pass out when I started to..." He cleared his throat
again. "I think that's why I didn't go to Heaven, you know. Because I was doing
that while I..."

Emmett sighs and lets out a defeated groan. "Dude. You're not dead."

"Yes. I. Am." Edward glares at him. "And now I've confessed, so if the rest of you
can do the same, I'll be able to plead my case before God."

Alice slides out noisily from beneath her table and lumbers over heavily. "What
about the whole suicide and hell thing?"

Edward shrugs slowly, his aching dead joints seeming to be a little more loose
since his confession started. "Like I said. I just want to plead my case."

Emmett looks between Edward and Jasper once, then turns and nods towards
me. "What do you say, Plexiglass? You wanna go next since Edward took one for
the team?"

My mouth opens and closes over and over again until I realize that I'm actually
speaking and noises are coming out of my mouth. It's a series of 'hell no' and
'suck it' interspersed with a few 'dickheads' thrown in. The sheer intensity of the
five of them staring at me...waiting for me to speak...has overwhelmed me so
much that I am squirming in my chair and fall out of it onto the floor. Scrambling
as quickly as I can, I rip across the floor and towards the back part of the library,
searching for some hidden corner between the shelves where I can find safety.

Inevitably, I end up in the back corner, surrounded by thick volumes of early
nineteenth century history books. Its so boring back in this corner that only bugs
come here to die. I'm sure that no one will be able to find me.

Drawing my knees up to my chest, I rest my chin on them and close my eyes.
Being invisible is second nature to me. Being seen was overwhelming.

There's silence all around me and I have lulled myself into false security, assured
that no one would care enough to find me. But, once again, I'm wrong about
something today.

The shuffling alerts me to his presence and I tense, drawing in on myself even
more tightly and hoping above hope that he can't see me when he passes by. But
his feet turn towards where I am nestled into the corner with the musty books
and dead bugs...until I can see the tops of his shoes from where I am squinting
my eyelids together and looking between my eyelashes in an attempt to look like
I am sleeping.

It's Edward, and he stops beside me, slowly...achingly slowly...he slides to the
ground by my side and extends his long legs in front of him until his feet meet
the bookcase and he is toeing more than one volume of Americana at once.

"Jasper went in your place," he whispers. I can't bear the thought of facing him
so I close my eyes tighter and move my head in the opposite direction.
"Apparently, he's a middle child in a military family? My personal opinion is that
he just wants attention, but he got so caught up in it that he can't stop it. He
doesn't know how to interact with people anymore because he's been this way for
so long. The constant teasing at school became too much for him and he..."

"Stop," I say quietly, and he complies, leaning back and resting his head on the
books behind us. "Jasper's just an idiot."

He laughs once, his whole body jerking from the movement and I turn to see him
looking at me with sympathy in his eyes that catches me off guard. The moment
feels surreal as we look at one another and truly see the other person. He's so
handsome. And so full of remorse and guilt for what he thinks he's done. And I
know I can't make him see the full reality of it all, but if I had a chance to show
him just the slightest way...that he's alive...that he's been given a second
chance...

Edward swallows slowly, his throat working around his saliva as he stares intently
at me. "They're about to serve lunch."

I nod. "Okay."

But he doesn't move. Instead, he lifts one rigid arm and places his hand on my
leg, delicately.

I like the warmth there.

He leans over towards my face, still staring at me, but not making me
uncomfortable. His mouth turns up into a small smile as he speaks, "The poem
you read was about you."

"I don't know...what..." I'm stuttering and he's smiling at me because of it.

Looking away and then back again, he sighs. "If I were alive? I would totally kiss
you right now."

"If I weren't invisible, I would totally let you," I whisper.

His fingers open and curl lightly around my calf. "You... are so very ... not
invisible."

I focus on his hand on my leg and try not to smile at how ludicrous it all is. "Well,
you're so very...not dead," I answer, wondering just how long it will take before
we can all see the truth that's so evident to the others in this group.

(Noon)

Carlisle is holding a brown box full of brown bags as Edward and I emerge from
the bookshelves. He's got Esme standing next to him, holding six Cokes as she
looks him up and down in barely contained excitement.

Perhaps lunch is when they get it on...

"Probably," Edward answers by my side.

I'm getting used to him responding to me, I think.

Some small part of me wonders if anyone else from the group is paying attention
to the fact that Edward and I are holding hands. But, logically, I still believe that
they can't see me, so it would make sense that they just see Edward with his
hand kind of clawed at his side.

We take seats next to each other at an empty table and I do notice a slight
eyebrow lift from Emmett as we settle. He's watching us closely as Carlisle roams
the room dropping the bags off in front of each of us, until Doc Cullen slows his
steps and tentatively places a bag in front of Rose.

I should have known that lunch would be difficult for that reason alone.

Carlisle and Esme are both in front of Rosalie now, and I see Esme's eyes soften
in a motherly manner as she she smiles and nods with encouragement. "Try," she
shispers and gently pats the girl's shoulder before turning with her head tucked
to her chest and retreating to the exit.

The good doctor takes his place at the Librarian's desk and crosses his hands in
front of his pants' zipper. "Well, have we reached any earth shattering
conclusions? Have you figured out why you're here?"

Emmett, being our mean as hell mouthpiece, snorts as he thrusts his huge hand
into his lunch bag. "Would it be cliche of us to say our parents and our peers?"

Carlisle frowns and nods once. "I'd say that would be taking the easy way out."

Emmett shrugs. "Look who you're talking to."

The rest of us stare at the brave exchange between doctor and patient, and I let
out a surprised breath as Edward's hand creeps over my knee under the table,
securing me in my place.

Carlisle takes a moment to look each of us over carefully and then turns toward
the clock to check the time. "Five more hours. Hopefully you'll have better results
when I return to get you for dinner." And with that last statement, he walks
toward the door, ushering Esme out and into the hallway, leaving us alone once
again.

Edward's hand is stiff and lingers on my knee as I dip my own hand into my lunch
bag and pull out a glorious food item that makes my stomach instantly groan
loudly with hunger.

Its a peanut butter sandwich. On white bread.

If I could cry, I would.

It seems that everyone else has the exact same reaction to the real food we're
being delivered, and all I can hear for the next ten minutes is chewing and
gulping, potato chips crunching between teeth and sodas being annihalated like
we've been in the wilderness for forty days without any food at all.

Between the bites of my food, I sense Edward by my side, leaning towards me
just a little more, resting his hand against my knee just a little more heavily.
Almost like he's testing to see if I can hold his weight on my lower body. In fact,
I'm so caught up in the surrealness of his fingers curled along my inner thigh,
and possibly...possibly...inching higher...that I don't see Rose as she shoves
herself away from her table and makes a break for the bathroom door.

Emmett sees it happen and he's up in a flash, chasing her through the
bookshelves towards the very back of the library, screaming at her to stop and
get back in her damn seat. She is clearly ignoring him as she makes a mad dash
into the bathroom and Emmett comes to a violent halt as he crashes into the wall
next to the bathroom door.

"Rose," he calls through the door in this eery calm voice that makes the hair on
my arms stand on end. "Don't do it. Get your ass back out here and keep that
food in your stomach."

I wait, holding my lips together as I watch him rest his forehead against the door
and place a hand next to his face. Its probably the most sensitive I've ever seen
him and it makes my heart hurt a little. Edward's hand is suddenly gone from my
leg and without looking at him, I know what I have to do. So I get up and walk
slowly to the bathroom, keeping my eyes pointed towards my feet the entire way
so that I won't have to see if Emmett is watching me approach or not.

"I'll go in," I say quietly, standing back just a little. Emmett stays where he is for
a second before I look up and see his hand slide a little and his fingers tap the
bathroom door once in a sign of resignation.

"She's killing herself all over again," he says with finality.

I nod because I know. I see it every day and there's nothing I can do about
it...but today is new and foreign for all of us. Why not take a chance?

Pushing by Emmett, I ease the bathroom door open and step into the cold tiled
room, instantly feeling the drop in temperature as I do. Familiar sounds are
coming from one of the stalls and I wait as the gagging gets more aggressive and
then becomes spitting before its followed by silence.

Looking around, I decide to pull myself up on the bathroom sink that has three
separate sinks attached to one full mirror. Swinging my legs back and forth, I
concentrate on keeping my mouth shut and not saying anything until Rose
emerges from the stall with a small click of the lock and an echoing swing of the
door as it hits metal against metal.

She glances at me once, wiping her mouth with the back of her non-gagging
hand. A few more steps and she's right next to me, pumping the soap dispenser
with her palm and lathering up to wash off the pleghm and bloody residue on her
fingers.

"I was gonna try," she manages out through her freshly sore throat.

Instead of answering, I lean over and grab a paper towel from the dispenser. She
takes it gently and before I can stop myself, I have ahold of her hand and am
cradling her mangled fingers in my palm. Surveying the broken skin, scabs and
bite marks, I shake my head.

"Why do you do it?"

Rose slips her hand away from mine slowly, wiping it clean before she lets out a
terribly sad sigh. "There's not just one reason."

My courage finds me and I lean back against the mirror to see her more clearly.
"Then start with one reason. And if you can say another...do it."

She's clearly at a loss, her icy demeanor is showing through just the tiniest bit
before she ... just ... breaks.

"I envy you, you know."

My mouth is wide open now and I have no response.

Envy me?

"Yeah," she answers my thought. "You don't give a shit, ya know? What you look
like or how you talk. You just walk aorund being you, not caring if people are
looking or whatever." Rose runs a thumb sadly over her torn up knuckles. "Its
never been that way for me." Her voice sounds tear filled as she begins,"I used to
do beauty pageants. Beauty is...was...is my life. I was four when I won my very
first First Place award. I kicked those other four year old's asses."

"Must have been nice," I offer.

She shrugs. "Sure. Except, its never good enough. I was never perfect enough for
my Mom and she was always all over me to be...perfect." With a grand sweep of
her shaking hands she gives a watery smile. "Aren't I perfect?"

I nod, hoping its the right response.

"By the time I was eleven, people thought I was my Father's girlfriend. They
would make comments about us in public. Older men were always coming after
me, and I just thought it was how it was supposed to be, I guess.

"It was so much pressure. But I never worried about it, ya know? It's like...I'm,"
her voice catches in her throat and I take a moment to look over her perfect
features, confused as to what someone so beautiful could be so broken about.

"I got used to the attention. I guess I just thought I was indestructable? I don't
know." She's speaking slower now. Quietly. "One night,I snuck out of my house
and went to see my boyfriend. He was older than me, of course, and he was
drinking with some friends. I don't know why he did it...but...he was telling his
friends how beautiful I was and he started to pull at my clothes. I wanted him to
stop. I told him to. But...he was drunk...and the guys were getting rowdy..."

I hold up my hand for her to stop, but I guess she's too far gone to see me
anymore. If she did at all...

"There were five of them. I didn't have a chance..." Her eyes lifted to her own
reflection in the mirror as tears fell down her cheeks. "No matter what anyone
says? I died that day. I was dead when I woke up the next morning with a black
eye and my clothes ripped to shreds. Sticky and used..." Rose pauses and clears
her throat as her voice starts to give.

"I remembered that there was a girl that I did the pageant circuit with. She
couldn't handle the attention so she went home every night and picked at her
face, hoping it would make her less attractive and that people would leave her
alone." She lets out a sad laugh. "I took another route and started purging ... my
mother told me I was finally beginning to lose my baby fat and that I'd never
been so beautiful."

"Holy shit."

"I know. I just want to disappear." She sniffles a bit and bites down on her lip to
stifle a sob. "But won't I be the most beautiful corpse?"

I'm about to speak to her when I hear commotion outside of the bathroom door
and it cracks open a bit to reveal Emmett's head poking in to survey the scene
inside. "Rose," he calls, his voice all soft and kind of shaky. "Rose, just come out
here for a second?"

She smiles at me in the saddest way, tears sliding over her cheeks and into the
cracked corners of her mouth. "See?" she whispers. Turning on the tap, she
brings a handful of water to her mouth and rinses quietly. Extending her hand to
me she asks, "Can I have a piece of gum?" And I comply because, really, what
else can I do but say yes? She thanks me quietly as she puts the piece in her
mouth and throws away her trash.

With one last glance at me, she sighs. "I envy you. You might be the only one of
us that makes it out of here, Bella."

And with that last sentence, she puts on a fake smile and pulls the door
completely open, stepping forward towards Emmett who is looking at her with
such concern in his eyes that it makes my knees weak. But just as the door
begins to close, I see his arms open for her and he pulls her into an embrace.

Clearly he was listening to her confession.

And now he and I both know that she's probably the only one out of all six of us
who could actually die in this place.

Perspective is quite the little bitch when she slaps you in the face with an honest
to God problem that possibly can't be fixed.

(1 p.m.)

My intention is to leave the bathroom, but I simply can't get my legs to move.
I'm sitting on this countertop and replaying the words that Rose just spoke, and
the look of sadness on Emmett's face as he pulled her in for a real hug...and I'm
rendered immobile.

That is, until Giant Alice slams her way into the bathroom, throwing the door wide
open unceremoniously to scurry past me and into a stall.

The little stall.

You know, I shouldn't judge her because she's definitely got something wrong
with her brain if she can't see that she's so freaking tall that the boys are almost
eye level with her. But it would seem that she purposely finds these tight
squeezes to put herself into.

Like, right now? I can hear her knees hitting the stall door, the toilet paper
dispenser, and the feminine waste receptical all at once.

She's a giant pinball in there and I half expect to hear that music that plays when
you get the pinball in the hole marked 100.

While she's in the receptacle, I'm reminded of the food that now rests like a
cement lump in my gut. It's amazing how quickly I've begun to wonder how Rose
does it...My first two fingers on my right hand twitch a little and rub together as I
contemplate what a rush she must experience and how in control she must feel.

But, let's be honest, I don't want to disappear any more than I already am.

Alice has finished her business, and somehow I am rendered immobile, unsure of
whether or not I should look at her or talk to her or whatever. Instead of letting
me decide that on my own, she clamors out of the stall and gives me a big smile
as she shuffles over to the sink to my right and turns on the water.

I want to say to her that she's ridiculous, but really...aren't we all?

Except for Rose, of course...

Instead, I decide to try something. Slowly, I slide myself from the countertop and
place my feet on the floor. With raised shoulders, I place my hands on the sink
behind me and turn around with my head cocked to the side as I meet her eyes
in the mirror.

Her smile wavers just the slightest bit as she looks between her reflection and
mine but she plasters it back into place as she finishes washing her hands.
Keeping my lips together, I resist the urge bubbling up inside of me to ask her if
she thinks I am three feet tall. Because I am at least a good seven inches shorter
than her, you know?

Without another glance at me, she walks by and grabs a paper towel to dry her
palms. "You got Rose to tell her story?"

I nod and then think better of it because she probably needs to hear me, what
with my new ability to fade in and out of view from people's vision. "Yeah. She's
actually got a really serious problem."

Alice sighs and turns back to the mirror, now far away enough that we look like
we could be the same height in the reflective glass. There's a random couch up
against the far wall beyond the door, and I always wondered exactly who came
into the bathroom to wait as people took a piss...or if the bathroom was a really
awesome place to take a nap? Anyway, Alice is looking at the couch and kind of
does a weird shrug before she lays down on it, her face pointed towards me as
she does.

Her damn feet are half hanging off of the arm of the couch and she looks like
Gulliver about to be pinned down by the Liliputians.

"So, Doctor Bella. Care to do a session with me?" Alice's eyes are alight with
mischief and I want to slap her and hug her simultaneously. She's the last

confession we need before we can get down to brass tacks and get the hell outta
here.

I cough once, unsure of how to react because, somehow, the place where most
people come to take a dump...has now become our confessional. Perhaps the
bathroom is the place I'm most visible.

And now I'm working the shrink's couch for free.

Blinking fast, I shrug and lean back against the countertop, crossing my arms and
opening my mouth a tiny bit. "Sure," is all that squeaked out.

Alice lifts her brows and chuckles before placing her hands behind her head to get
comfy.

Swallowing hard, I ask the one question we all had to answer. "Alice. Why are
you here?"

She looks up at the ceiling and expels one long breath before she speaks. "People
don't see me clearly."

"How do you mean?"

"I know who I am, Bella. I know what I look like. But people are always
disagreeing with me and saying things. I'm in my body. I know what's up." She
shifts to get more comfortable.

Something about the way she is lounging on the couch piques my interest. "Even
your family?"

Alice smiles, all big eyes and white teeth. "My Daddy saw me for who I really am.
The day he died, he told me I was perfect exactly as I was and that he'd always
remember me that way. Even from Heaven."

Tiny little puzzle pieces begin making their way together in my brain to form a
huge picture.

"How old were you when he died?"

"Nine," is her reply.

And that's all I need to hear to finally get it.

Alice is frozen in time. At four feet eleven inches and seventy pounds. So her
Daddy will recognize her from Heaven.

How the hell was I supposed to make her understand that he would know her
regardless? That she wasn't stuck in some weird time warp and that just because
he was dead it didn't mean that she couldn't live her life?

"You're sweet," she whispers, sitting up again. "Thanks for listening." And, just
like that, she's off the couch and out the door.

And I'm left wondering what the hell just happened and just...how the hell...were
supposed to fix one another?

Pacing in front of the bathroom mirror, I shake my head over and over to arrange
my thoughts. Not one of us would be just good to go after all of this. So what was
the point? To get us to air our dirty laundry and feel like ...

We

Were

All

Equals

Damn you, Doc Cullen.

There's a light knock on the bathroom door and I turn around in surprise to see
Edward pushing the door open as he is looking at me with extra wide eyes. "Are
you alone?"

I blush and suddenly realize that I'm not folded into myself, so I back up against
the counter again as I nod to let him know that I am alone. Clearly I was
speaking out loud again.

He walks inside of th bathroom in that mechanical way of his, but there's
something else in his stature. And there's something in his hands. Edward stops
in front of me, barely leaving enough room for my chest to expand to take in a
breath. The rumpled gray tshirt he's wearing is filling my view as I watch him
take a lungful of air.

"Do you think I'm going to Hell, Bella?" He asks, his voice quiet and respectful of
the acoustics in the room.

I shake my head no, too much information filling my mind at once and clouding
my thoughts. "Why are you asking me that?"

"Alice said that thing about suicide and Hell. And, I just wonder...do you think it's
too late to save my soul?"

"No," I whisper, my eyes still looking at the floor.

"I think its too late," he confesses, his thumbs carressing the paper in his hands.
"Especially because of my thoughts about you." He's pressing in closer and I have
no choice but to look up into his downturned face. "I never had thoughts like this
about Jessica. But you...I don't know..." Without another word, he hands me the
paper and takes a step back as I unfold it and my eyes roam across his words.

If breath of life

Were in my chest

You'd find my lips

Upon your breast

With hot wet tongue

To lick

Caress

And fingers sinking

Hungrily

Between your thighs

That beckon me

With silky skin

So sticky

Sweet

Until restraint

No longer keeps

My senses true

And deeply

I'd push

Into you

To feel your warmth

Surrounding me

Inside

And

Out

You'd set me free

My knees tremble as I read the last words on the page, my mind conjuring up the
heady images he's written so clearly. My eyes close as I allow the warmth of it all
to settle over me.

It is clear now. I am here to help in the best way that I can. Bathroom
confessional and all.

And my first attempt would be with Edward.

All I would need to do is prove to him that he was alive.

So, I would start.

With a kiss.

"What if I can prove to you that you're alive, Edward?"

His mouth frowns and he shakes his head from side to side painfully. "You can't
prove that..."

"I can." I fold up his poem and place it in the back pocket of my jeans. "I can
prove to you that you're not dead."

"I've been dead for a few months now, Bella. I know that I am."

"If you were dead, your skin would be falling off and stuff, right?"

He backs away, uncertain. "I'm preserved well. I'm taking care of myself."

I shake my head violently. Turning towards the mirror, I point. "Your ears are
bright red. Look. Blood flow, Edward. You eat. You shower and use the bathroom.
All of the things that The Living do." I have no idea why I'm suddenly so sure that
I can do something...anything...at all. But I would hate myself even more if I
didn't even attempt to try.

His eyes are on mine in the reflection of the mirror and it unnerves me.

"You have a reflection," I continue.

His gaze softens. "So do you."

I ignore his obvious attempt to derail me. "This isn't about me, Edward. This is
about proving to you that you're alive. You're real and this isn't Purgatory."

"And how can you prove that?"

"Easy," I breathe, building up my confidence. "Kiss me, Edward."

"I can't."

"You can."

His disbelief is almost comical. "I will not have my lips falling off on your face,
Bella. I will not...lose a jaw in order to prove your point."

I take a step forward and place my hand delicately on his chest. "I promise you
that nothing will fall off."

He's still unsure, so I move my hand across his torso and to his exposed arm.
Lightly, I graze his skin with my fingertips, allowing him to adjust to my touch.
Bringing my fingers up for him to inspect, I sigh.

"See? You're still in one piece."

He's staring into the mirror, brow furrowed as he looks for any rotting flesh to
peel off of his arm.

"Look at me," I call to him. My new calling is making me all kinds of brash. And
his poem made me all kinds of horny.

He does as I ask and I swallow down the bile that has risen in my throat because
of how intently he is looking at me. Not through me. At. Me. And then he's a step
closer, and I'm backing up against the countertop, my hands gripping the wet
edges of the sink as he hovers above me for what feels like a hundred years or
more.

My head tilts up as his descends, and I feel an entire family of baby birds rise and
flutter inside of my stomach, my head light and fuzzy as my feet are planted in
cement on the ground. His hand lifts in that uncomfortable way he's so used to
moving, and it is placed gently on my neck as I fist the front of his shirt.

Surely my hand will leave a mark in the cotton blend that others will be able to
see.

"I see you," he barely speaks, answering me again before our ltrembling lips
meet. Gentle. Chaste. Only once before he pulls back to inspect my face.

Clearly there's no residue of The Dead there because he goes in for another kiss,
longer, lingering.

And I can't stop the flurry of emotions that slide across me like a warm ocean
tide lapping first at my feet and then upward until my entire body is heated and
alive. My thoughts are nil except that Edward is kissing me, and his lips are so
soft and pliable. His skin is so silky, as is his hair as my fingers find their way up
to the base of his neck.

With breath between us, we open our mouths at he same time and I am pulling
him closer, angling for more. Panting and yanking, I can't stop myself from
allowing his tongue to slide between my lips. And I'm sucking on his lower lip and
trying to keep up with his intense movements and rigid stature as sounds are
coming from both of us.

Suddenly he pulls back, his eyes wide as he gasps once, looking at us in the
mirror. His hands leave my body as they fly to his face and he touches around his
mouth, almost like he can't believe that his jaw is still intact.

His cheeks are the most glorious red.

As are his ears.

But we both drop our eyes to where our thighs are pressed together and he looks
stunned to realize that he is massively aroused at the moment.

"Riger mortis?" He questions, almost pleading.

"No," I whisper, embarrassed and unsure of what to say. "I told you ... you're so
not dead." The truth is out. It's inevitable that it should be said aloud. "Dead guys
don't get hard ons, Edward."

(1:30 p.m.)

Edward's entire face is beet red as he looks down at the bulge in his pants.

Maybe it's because I said 'hard on'?

He nods his head a little. "It's possible. It's definitely possible for this to happen."

"Not after three months."

"You don't know," he sounds almost panicked. "You don't know. It could."

"Edward," I hedge, my hands resting on his sides, just barely touching him for
fear he'll freak out and run. "What else do I have to do to make you realize you're
alive? You're clearly ...excited...how much more do you need?"

His face is practically shaking. "Maybe I'm already in Hell. Guys get boners in
Hell, right? That has to be it."

"You're not in Hell."

"If I'm already in Hell, it won't matter if I touch you or not." His words come out
so fast it takes me a minute to comprehend it.

If he's already in Hell, we can do...stuff. We could even have sex and he'd feel
bad about it, but his conscience wouldn't be nagging him so badly.

"No!" I practically yell, talking to myself more than Edward. I won't be the reason
he ends up hating himself more when he finally realizes the truth.

He's nodding his head and pressing against me more firmly, letting his weight
anchor his erection against my stomach. "It's true. I'm already dead. I'm already
in Hell, and I've failed the temptation miserably. The least I can do is experience
some kind of pleasure before I'm thrown into the Lake of Fire."

I'm torn because, well...I'm seventeen years old and I'd really like for Edward to
touch me. But, at the same time, it goes against everything he'd ever said and
while I'm sure it would rock my world it would kill him in the end...

"I thought you wanted to be married?" I ask, trying to skirt around the subject
and bring him back to reality.

He swallows loudly and grinds against me again. "I do. Did." Another slow thrust
against my stomach and I'm thisclose to letting him rip my pants off and bend
me over the sink. "What if this is my only chance?" He's grunting a little and it
makes my head swim, so I reach up to grab onto his t-shirt again, fisting it
harder as his hips press forward once more. "Would you though?" he asks, his
voice shaky and breath coming out faster.

"Would I ... what?" I can hardly focus as I watch his hips move forward again, his
zipper rubbing up against mine and pressing into me slowly.

"Would you have married me? Would you have waited?"

I nod, my hips reacting to his and grinding slowly. "I already have..."

His eyes go wide and I can't help but to stare at his mouth as he licks his lips.
"You're a virgin?"

I nod once. "Yeah."

Suddenly he's kissing me again and this time it's deep and needy with his fingers
gripping my ribs and his pelvis rocking into me harder. These little moans are
coming from his mouth and he's holding onto me like I'm the last thing in the
world that matters. Of course my thighs are spreading open and I'm starting to
angle my ass back against the countertop so that I can help him move against
the sensitive spot between my legs where the seam of my jeans is most
prevalent.

Our tongues are wild and sloppy, mouths open as we're breathing against one
another. It's chaos inside my head, but it's soooo good.

"Say it," he pulls away as he pleads, his eyes searching my face before he goes in
for another kiss. My lips are just adjusting to his as he pulls away. "Say you'd
marry me and that, if we were alive, we'd be okay to do this."

"We are alive," I assure him. "And, yes, I would marry you. Like Romeo and
Juliet." Our mouths find each other again and I can't help but whimper as he
swirls his tongue inside of my mouth.

It's as if his new understanding about his condition has loosened all of his joints
and he's pulling me to him with each new movement from his lower half. He's no
longer achingly stiif...except for there...and I can't stop my wandering hands
from running over his chest and shoulders, up under his shirt sleeves and then
back out to slide up his face and into his hair.

It's crazy.

Really, it is.

But we're in a mental hospital, after all.

He suddenly pulls back away from me and looks at his reflection in the mirror
again. Seeing no damage to his face, he exhales long and hard. "I don't know
why an angel like you is in Hell, but I'm glad I found you..."

His words make my heart ache and I pull his head down to mine to kiss him
again, forgetting for a moment that I'm invisible because he seems to see me so
clearly. Hormones are raging through both of us and my vision is almost red
before a thought suddenly strikes me a like a thunderbolt. Inching back from him,
I pull my hands down from his hair. Pulling up my hoodie sleeves, I locate the
two black rubber bands I keep there and yank them off desperately.

Presenting them to Edward, I beam up at him, "They aren't rings. But, put one on
your finger and I'll put one on mine." He looks confused, but complies. I look
down at both of our hands; double wrapped rubber bands where wedding rings
should be, and I smile. "I'll be your wife."

He seems to understand. "I'll be your husband."

"There," I sigh. "We're married. And as your wife, I can tell you that you're not
dead. I'll show you," I whisper, kissing him again as he resumes his rocking
against me. It's more aggressive now and I can feel myself being worked up far
more quickly than I've ever been turned on before. Snaking my hand between us,
I gather my nerve and press my palm flat against his erection, letting my own
knuckles drag along the outside of my jeans.

"I won't hurt you," he whimpers against my lips.

"We can't," i assure him, pressing against him bravely. "I'm not on anything and
we're in a bathroom..."

"I'm dead. You won't get pregnant."

"You're not dead. And yes I could." My hand twists until I can almost wrap my
fingers around him through his jeans.

I swear he cusses under his breath.

With the fastest movement I've seen from him to date, he gathers me into his
arms and turns us around so that he can push our tangled bodies over to the
couch. Laying me down, he climbs on top of me and presses his feet against the
armrest to piston himself against me quickly. My hands are all over him as I allow
him to kiss me roughly, his tongue and lips consuming me with each new
rotation.

"We could do this forever," he moans ... clearly still believing that we're dead.

"No, you're gonna come soon," I assure him. It's not like I know from experience,
but I've heard stories. And most girls my age, when talking in the bathroom at
school...where I was a pro at lurking incognito...had said that most guys came
really fast from the dry hump.

Suddenly, a few things happen at once.

He's aggressively pushing me down into the couch cushion and I take the
opportunity to shimmy up a little, wrapping my calves around his, giving me the
leverage I need to pull away from him and snake a hand between us. Obviously I

am not versed in the hand job, but at this point, I figure it's kind of necessary to
save his life.

Truthfully, it kinda makes me feel like a super hero: Handy Bella to the rescue.

And, also, he's telling me between open mouthed kisses to my neck that he
doubts he'll be able to finish because, "That would be just the thing to do to
someone in Hell."

So, it's pretty much necessary for me to reach into his pants, right? Which I do,
and I'm all surprised at how it feels in my hand, and how hard it is but soft and
smooth at once. And I am a hundred and fifty percent sure it surprises him too
because his head pops up from my neck and he gets this look on his face before
his whole body goes rigid again...but not the same kind of rigid that I'm used
to... no, this stiffness is everywhere and he's got a vein in his forehead that
throbs when he grits his teeth that is so pronounced its kinda scary...but it is
nothing compared to the way his neck vein pulses just in my eyeline.

His hands have braced themselves above my head and here's the sound of fabric
giving way somewhere up there, at the same time that I can feel the structure of
the couch give way and my hand becomes covered in hot, thick...goo.

But Edward's face?

Oh, God...Edward's face is beautiful for the fifteen seconds it takes for him to
come into the little umbrella that my hand has made over the head of his ... for
lack of a better word... dick. In that moment, he looks serene and satiated. Even
relaxed.

Damn. Orgasms must be awesome when someone else is involved.

"It's not..." he gasps and closes his eyes as the reality of what has just happened
begins to slowly sink in. "I didn't...that's not what that was..."

My heart is breaking for him, but my wall of medication is making it easier for me
to separate myself from the situation, so I gently remove my hand from his pants
and pull it up between the two of us so that he can see the evidence of his
ejaculate in my hand.

It's kinda slimy... but warm.

"I'm sorry," he chokes quietly, avoiding my eyes for a moment as he moves his
lower half off of me. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. I mean," I'm struggling to say something that he'll understand and
possibly be okay with, "we got married and stuff. So, it's totally fine. And I liked
it." My cheeks are firetruck red now and I struggle to maintain a real voice as
we're this close and the session of raging hormones has come to an end.

It's then that I notice how askew we are on th couch. "What happened?" I ask,
craning my neck to see that he has pushed the armrest completely apart from
the rest of the couch. Splintered wood and all.

There's a loud bang on the other side of the bathroom door and we both startle at
the sound. Emmett's voice is muffled but his volume is cranked up a notch. "I'd
say Dead Guy just figured out he's not dead and broke some shit in the process."

Edward hangs his head sadly and shakes it once against my chest before lifting
his face to mine, confusion and sadness clouding his features. "I'm so confused."

"I know."

"I need a minute."

"I know."

"I'm sorry..."

"You already said that," I say quietly as he slides off of me and stands to turn and
look at himself in the mirror again. Blood is rushing through his cheeks and ears,
making him look so incredibly beautiful that I have to look away.

I wait another second before standing myself and walking over to the sink to
wash off the remains of his evidence of ...life. We don't make eye contact in the
mirror and I start to feel weird. Not like I was used or anything, because I was
the one to instigate it. Instead I feel like, maybe, just maybe...I failed.

Sneaking a glance at him, I see Edward looking at his face in the mirror, checing
for any signs of something that would assuage his fears. Something that would
make sense to him as to what just happened.

Instead, he looks terrified and confused.

"I'm gonna go back out into the library," I whisper, kind of hoping he'll snap out
of his little reverie, but all he does is nod. So, I just turn and walk past the
broken couch and pull the door open, looking down at my feet instead of
anywhere else so that I can make this walk of shame as painless as possible.

But Emmett is still just beyond the door. And I should have known he wouldn't let
me off so easily.

"I'm pretty sure even Jasper picked up on what was going on in there... and
guessed the 'mood' correctly."

"Shut up," I whisper and try to move by him but he blocks me from going
anywhere until I force myself to look up into his eyes. It hurts to do it, but I'm
the super hero. And I must be brave.

Emmett cocks his head to the side for a second, looking me over, and shrink
away while he does it, feeling so very exposed. "You need a smoke?" He asks, all
quiet and shit like he cares.

But the truth is that I do, so I nod yes and he kind of leads me out to the
balcony, opening the door in a very uncharacteristic way, and ushering me out
into the grey afternoon. I just wait as he takes out two cigarettes and places
them between his lips to light with his hand held up as a shield.

And it reminds me of how my hand was just around...

"Don't," Emmett coughs, handing me a cigarrette. "Don't finish that thought."

I nod and take it from him, inhaling deeply until my lungs burn and my eyes
water. The sweet release I feel reminds of just how alive I really am. And i'm
both disappointed and kind of happy at the same time.

Emmett and I stand in silence as we smoke and I gaze over the balcony towards
the horizon, my gaze falling on something just a couple of blocks over. There are
lights and sounds, smells and just...fun...coming from the spectacle before me.
And I take a step closer to the balcony edge as a plan takes form in my mind.

"Emmett? When do you feel most alive?"

He shrugs, his eyes searching for what I'm staring so intently at. "When I get an
adrenaline rush, I guess. Why?"

My chin nods towards our salvation and I take another hit off of the cig. "How
hard do you think it would be to get out of this hospital...and over to that
carnival?"

(2:30 p.m.)

"We have less than three hours before Cullen comes and checks in on us."
Emmett is leaning over the balcony and weighing our options of escape. Suddenly
he turns to me and holds out his palm. "Gimme one of your pieces of gum." I do
as I'm told and he takes the piece of candy in his hand before walking back
towards the door. "You give me five minutes and meet me that reference aisle of
Esme's. I'll bring Jasper and we can form a plan. I just need to see something
first."

Who am I to argue with Emmett? He seems to be the ringleader here, so I just
nod and turn my attention back to the carnival down the street.

I imagine taking Edward on a roller coaster.

I imagine walking Alice into the funhouse of mirrors where she can see herself as
small...like she thinks she is.

I imagine watching Rose dig into a funnel cake and smiling with powdered sugar
all over her mouth.

These are things that would make anyone happy, regardless of whether they
were in a mental hospital or not.

And it's exactly what I'm hoping will happen if we have any chance to escape.
Counting under my breath, I finish my cigarette and make my way back inside,
with my head bowed to look at my feet as I approach Esme's aisle of book
recommendations. She's really into Young Adult Fiction, and almost everything
that she's pulled out in the aisle is some sort of paranormal romance. Or angsty
John Hughes wannabe bullshit.

My mind wanders as I look over the titles of the books and I'm so engrossed that
I don't hear Emmett approach with Jasper in tow.

"That asshole," Emmett seethes, coming to rest right behind me and leaning
against the book shelf. "I put that piece of gum that you gave me over that
camera lens five minutes ago. Has Cullen shown up? Of course not. You know
why?" He's leaning into me like we're friends. Conspirators.

"Why?" I ask, knowing that my voice is coming out scared and frail. But at least I
can acknowledge that I am speaking out loud.

"Because the camera doesn't even work. We're essentially here in this library on
the Honor Code." He laughs angrily. "He can get bent. We're outta here."

Jasper pipes up timidly, clearly affected by being in a small aisle with me and
Emmett. "How are we supposed to do that?"

Emmett gives him an exasperated look. "Here's the plan. We," he makes a circle
motion with his finger, "are going to get the others out of here. There'a a carnival
a couple of blocks over."

"What good will that do? Are we trying to scare them or something? Make them
want to kill themselves again?" Jasper is incredulous.

Emmett doesn't miss a beat and reaches out to smack him upside the head,
sending the smaller guy's head forward with a sharp snap. "Cut it out, Emo Kid.
We all know you talk out of your ass. We all know you do this shit for attention."

Jasper isn't thinking and he instinctively rolls up his sweatshirt sleeves to prepare
to fight.

Which is when I see all of his burn marks all over his arms.

"Holy shit," Emmett breathes out in awe.

"Yeah, I'm all about attention." Jasper is raging and turning red, making me
shrink away into the corner.

"You didn't say anything about those when you told your story," Emmett
whispers.

"Why would I? None of you give a shit about me." Jasper suddenly looks
indifferent. "Alice is pretty much the only one who even acknowledges me around
here. The rest of you act like I'm some undefined background character in this
little play you're in. But guess what? I'm real." He holds up his arms for us to see
the shiny skin there. Small cigarette burns and longer scars cover his wrists
making me wince. "And, yeah, I did most of these myself. But when no one
listens, sometimes you just have to remind yourself that you're real."

I step forward a tiny bit and wring my hands together tightly. "I know how you
feel."

Jasper laughs sharply. "Don't patronize me."

I shake my head violently. "I'm not. I didn't mean for it to come out that way. At
all."

Jasper looks away, pulling his sleeves down as he does. "Don't ever touch me like
that again," he warns quietly to Emmett. And for the first time, I see the tougher
guy's veneer begin to crack.

We stand in that little book aisle for a few minutes, not speaking or moving,
waiting on someone else to break the silence.

Lucky for us, Alice's curiosity has gotten the best of her and she has stalked us
down to where we are standing. She smiles and tilts her head as she pushes us
all further into the small space. Her hovering tendancies have packed us like a
can of sardines in between the teen angst books. She's so unaware of her body
it's ridiculous, and I can't help the laugh that escapes my mouth.

It's ... so ... inappropriate.

Alice tilts her head even farther, now looking like one of those crazy ass tropical
birds that can turn their heads upside down and shit.

And I can't help but laugh even harder.

In that one moment, Jasper gets the mood correct and begins to chuckle, too.
Which makes Emmett guffaw because the tension has been alleviated. And Alice
is still staring at us like a demon possessed baby doll.

"Whatcha laughing at?" She asks and it makes me cackle even harder, reaching
out to balance on something, but I'm crammed so close to Emmett that he's the
only thing I can grasp onto for fear that I will fall over the books and land on my
ass.

Emmett surprises me and takes my hand in his, securing it on his forearm as he
snorts and gets a settling breath in his lungs. "We're planning our escape."

Alice's eyes go even wider and she presses in even more, causing me to actually
lose my balance and slip backwards until my knees are crammed up against
Emmett's calf and I'm yanking his shirt with my balled up fist. I half expect him
to be angry but he's...amused.

Helping me up, he pushes Alice back out of the aisle with Jasper right behind. All
the while he's muttering about Doc Cullen and lack of personal space in a loony
bin.

Once we're in open air, he addresses Alice's still cocked head.

"How do feel about jumping off of that balcony, Alice?" he's pointing to the
outside and she follows the line of his finger, eyes getting even bigger as the grey
light catches her attention.

"I'd never survive a jump like that," she argues. "That's at least...eight feet.
Almost twice my height."

I'm about to argue with her when I see a shadow move across the floor and
notice Edward peering around the corner. "I'd break every last bone in my body
jumping off of that."

Emmett tenses and releases me to sigh deeply, suddenly less jovial. "Maybe you
could try not being ...you... for a minute?"

Alice and Edward stare at him in complete confusion.

Emmett closes his eyes and tilts his head to the ceiling in frustration. Pointing at
Alice he grinds out between his teeth, "You're a giant. Like, runway model giant."
He turns to Edward. "You...are not dead. And Bella just proved that in the
bathroom." Looking at me he shrugs. "You say every last damn thing out loud.
You think you're invisible and yet, everyone ignores you because all you DO is
talk." His eyes land on Jasper. "You want attention so badly you can't even
function." Holding his hands up he nods. "Do we have it covered?"

My eyes narrow and I am filled with deep disappointment in him. "And you can't
handle the fact that your Dad may have just simply wanted to not be an asshole
anymore and decided to try and make himself a better person."

His head swivels around so fast i half expect to hear a sound effect. But he's
silent, just staring me down with hatred filled vision.

I shrug, not caring, "So, have we established that we're all screwed up? Except
for Rose, because she is actually the only one of us who might die here?"

The silence that follows my statement leaves me breathless and I wait as the
reality of it sinks into each and every one of their minds.

Jasper clears his throat. "So, what do you suggest we do?"

I hold up my hands, palms halfway hidden by the fabric of my hoodie. My palms
are no longer feel warm from Edward's skin. They no longer tingle from his touch.
But I am aware...so very hyper aware...of the blood flowing in my wrists and
through my fingers.

"What do we do?" I take a deep, deep breath. "We live a little. Show Rose...all of
us...that we're worth ... living."

My eyes meet Edward's and I see his face contorting in all different emotions and
I try to send him silent brainwaves to alert him to the fact that his emotions
mean that he is a part of the living.

I'm begging him, unsure of whether it's out loud or not. I just want him to hear
me:

Please understand.

Please understand.

Please understand the severity of it all. Because, while we're messed up...we can
be fixed. Somehow. Some way.

But maybe not Rose. And if this is the last attempt we can make to feel free. Or
alive. To feel anything...please understand that we need this.

Edward's eyes search mine until I can feel tears stinging behind my lids and I
blink to look away. But then he steps forward slowly, reaching his hand out for
mine and I lift mine to take his, our fingers making contact briefly before he pulls
me to his chest and plants his chin on top of my head.

Everyone around us is dead silent as I listen to his heart beating so thunderously
in his chest. Closing my eyes I wait as his arms tighten around me. He breathes
evenly once. Twice. Three times.

And then he simply whispers, "Let's go."

(3:00 p.m.)

Emmett's plan is simple: Sneak out of the unsupervised library and simply…walk
outside.

But first, he wants to make sure that the coast is clear. So we all file in behind
him like a Kindergarten class, as he leads us through the hallway towards the
exit. As we're rounding the corner that Doc Cullen's office is located, Emmett
stops and turns to address us all with a finger to his lips.

"Listen," he fake-whispers, and we all stop walking so that we can hear whatever
it is that he's straining for. It doesn't take long for the sounds of moans and

thumping to reach our ears and we all realize at the same time that the doctor
and his nurse are getting it on in his office bathroom.

Alice's face goes blank as Jasper mutters under his breath about old people doing
The Nasty.

Emmett gets a cocksure grin on his face and reaches out to test the doorknob to
the office. He finds it unlocked and turns to wink at Rosalie who we have barely
convinced to come with us. She slaps at his hand, but its too late and Emmett
has disappeared into the office, leaving us all in the hallway to fend for ourselves.

"What if an orderly comes by?" Rose hisses hoarsely.

"Then we run," I whisper back.

Before we can even think about it, Emmett is back, holding something in his
hands and sporting an evil glint in his eyes. "Doc Cullen wants us to have a super
fun time," he fake laughs. Holding up a wallet, he lifts an eyebrow. "And he just
so happens to have his access card in here. Who knew the lovely Esme would
provide us with such an impeccable means of escape with her pus-"

"Shut up," Rose swipes at the wallet without success. "What would you have done
if you couldn't have acquired this wallet?"

Emmett leans down to her face, almost as if they're about to kiss. "Oh, I would
have gotten his wallet regardless. This just saves me the pain in my ass of having
to climb through the air vents to get it."

Rose seems to be holding her breath in disbelief.

The thumping inside the bathroom becomes more hurried and Emmett
straightens up, shoving the wallet into his jeans' pocket. "Looks like the doc is
about to experience a big finish. We should probably get the hell outta here." He
takes off in front of us and we follow silently, keeping close to the walls and
ducking into open rooms a couple of times when we hear anyone approaching.

It's exciting. Thrilling, even. And my heart is racing as we near the exit.

The sounds of muted footsteps alert us to another nurse making her rounds and
the other four duck into a darkened room as Edward and I slip into a partially
opened door, realizing too late that it's a janitor's closet.

Edward crinkles his nose as the smell of disinfectant assaults his senses. "God,
that stinks," he whispers.

My attempts at being cordial about his situation have reached their breaking point
and I sigh exaggeratedly. "Yeah, funny how stuff like that stinks when you're
alive to smell it."

He takes in a sharp breath and I hold my lips together as he waits a moment and
exhales. "I'm sorry," he whispers. And I'm not sure if it's for still keeping up with
the guise of being a dead guy…or for pushing me away after I had my hands in
his pants…or for just being so damn stubborn. But I'll take his apology. I have to.

Forgiveness is all we have.

"Don't be sorry," I answer back turning towards the door to see if we're cleared
to escape. But Edward is suddenly next to me and he has his hands on my back
and sliding up into my hair, turning my face up towards his to press his mouth to
mine in a firm, chaste kiss. "I'm so confused," he mutters against my lips, and I

kiss him back once just to get a little more before I pull away and push him back
a little.

"You won't be for long," I assure him.

Just as I suspect, Emmett has a plan, and I watch from the cracked door as he
scurries across the hospital floor from one room to another across the hall. Rose
and Alice both have their heads peeking out of the former's door and we listen as
Emmett makes a racket in the room, and then the resounding screaming of
another patient alerts us to what he's done.

He's causing a diversion.

Rushing from the patient's room, he slides across the hallway, rolling like a
clumsy ninja, and disappears past Rose and Alice as they slip back into the other
room and wait for the nurses to arrive. Whatever patient Emmett has messed
with is having a full on conniption fit and they are throwing items in their room
and screaming at the top of their lungs, making the biggest racket ever.

As is expected, nurses start running through the hallway to take care of the
problem, and once the coast is clear, Emmett scurries out into the hallway and
takes off running for the door, holding it open and motioning frantically for all of
us to follow.

Which we do.

Out of the hallway and beyond the door we flee, laughing like the crazies that we
are as we hit the stairwell and down the stairs until we reach the exit and Emmett
throws it open.

And suddenly we're free.

Out in the open.

We listen as the door clicks shut behind us and I close my eyes to take a deep
breath of fresh air into my lungs.

It's different down on the ground than it is up on the balcony. The air seems
more…alive.

"It is," Jasper assures me and laughs a little as I open my eyes and squint at him
through narrowed eyelids. "Yeah, we're all just gonna keep answering you every
time you talk out loud. Eventually you'll figure it out."

Seems like we've all dropped our pretenses and are telling it like it is.

"What did you do in there?" Rose asks Emmett as we begin walking to the left of
the building to cross over at a light.

Emmett shrugs. "You know that kid Riley?"

"The one with the imaginary friend, Victoria?" Alice's head is doing that weird
thing again where she looks like a bird.

"Yeah," Emmett chokes on his laughter. "I killed her."

"WHAT?" Jasper stops in his tracks and holds up both hands towards Emmett as
the bigger guy pushes by him and starts to cross the street.

Emmett is still laughing. "I went in and whispered to Riley that I had his
imaginary girlfriend, and when he sat up in his bed…I pretended to choke her."
He curls his hands together to show us. "I was seriously choking air, people. He'll
be fine. I'm sure she'll survive the attack."

"You're so disturbed." Rose rushes to catch up with him and I can't help but to
smile as Emmett reaches out for her and takes her by the hand to help her across
the street as we continue to hurry towards the carnival.

Edward is keeping pace with me, moving much more freely now in the open air
and daylight. He dips his head and leans into me as we walk. "How did he know
we would make it out okay?"

I shrug. "Who knows?"

"I would have thought that the hospital would have been way harder to escape."
I can tell he's starting to form scenarios in his head where the escape would only
have worked if he were dead or in Purgatory, and I shake my head to stop him
from going any further.

"I read a book once where an old guy walked right out of a nursing home and
made it all the way to a circus even though he could barely walk, and he ended
up running away with the show." I contemplate the validity of said book and sigh.
"It's a really good book."

There's a brief silence before I feel Edward take my hand in his.

It's perfect.

Emmett is rushing us the three blocks over to the carnival and we all follow
along, pushing towards something…more.

Its not until we reach the outskirts, that the sounds and smells hit me full force
and the electric current of excitement that is resonating from just beyond the
ticket booth makes my knees weak with excitement. I hold my head up and
breathe in deeply, relishing in the smell of popcorn and funnel cakes. The hay.
The lights and whirring sounds of the coaster. I take in the sounds of happiness
all around us and for a moment I feel free.

Truly. Free.

Emmett is pulling the money out of his pocket as we approach the booth, and the
person behind the counter barely even looks at us. And in that moment we are as
normal as any other person. We are not escaped mental patients going to a
carnival with stolen money.

We're seventeen years old.

And life is beckoning us.

Turning to look at Emmett as he hands out the tickets, I meet his eyes and we
share a silent agreement. He and I made a deal with Jasper that we were all in
charge of helping the others see themselves more clearly while we are here.

Emmett seems to be a step ahead as he pulls Rose to his side and places a soft
kiss to her temple. "You know what I wanna do first?"

She looks up at him, all puppy dog eyes and sunken cheeks. "What?"

He grins wickedly. "I wanna see you eat a corndog."

She makes a face and starts to push him away before he leans in and whispers
something in her ear. I'm listening as hard as possible, but I can't make it out,
even though whatever it is … is making Rose blush bright red.

"In your dreams," she giggles and bats her lashes up at him.

"Just gotta see if you can handle the test run, baby." Emmett pulls her to his
chest and they turn to walk off towards concessions.

I watch as they disappear into the crowd and then turn my attention to Jasper
and Alice, but he's already leading her towards the House of Mirrors. And they are
holding hands…which is cute and a little unsettling given the fact that Alice is
almost crushing him with her proximity.

Someone should talk with her about personal space…

"So, what do you want to do first?" Edward asks. I can see that he's eyeing all of
the pansy rides and shit, so I quickly pull him across the hay and through all of
the games until we are standing directly under the giant roller coaster that is
zooming at speeds incomprehensible to me at the moment.

"I want you to ride this with me."

Edward begins to stiffen up but I squeeze his hand in mine, silently pleading for
him to look at me. When he does, I say, "Let's prove it. Once and for all. If you
don't fall apart…if your body stays intact and your skin stays on…and your arms
and legs stay attached? If your heart," I point at his chest and then flatten my
palm against his hard beating organ. "If your heart beats a thousand miles a
minute and you feel high and excited and all the other bullshit that goes along
with YOU BEING ALIVE…" My voice cracks for a moment before I recover. "If all of
that happens, will you please…please…please…believe me that you are alive and
that you're not going to Hell anymore than the rest of us are?"

Edward takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly before looking me square in the
eye.

It feels like a hundred years pass before he finally responds.

"I trust you. I'll do it."

And it's all I need to hear to pull him roughly towards the coaster, praying that he
doesn't actually get decapitated on the ride.

(4:00 p.m.)

It feels like it takes forever for us to actually get into the line for the coaster.
Edward is moving purposely slower now, trying to delay our boarding of the ride,
but eventually we make it up to the ticket taker.

The older guy barely looks at us as he takes our tickets and opens the noisy,
rusted gate for us to pass through. I immediately head for the first row and
Edward slows down even more, causing a kind of traffic jam behind him as other
kids and adults are trying to get into the little cars. Some of them move around

him impatiently and some politely stay behind, but eventually the carnival worker
walks up next to him and tells him to hurry his ass up.

Edward looks scared shitless.

But he complies.

I wait for him in the front car, my hands nervously wringing the smelly metal bar
in front of me. He climbs in beside me and makes and odd sounds as his knees
scrape against the front of the death basket we seem to be residing in. There's
nothing said between us as he clicks the seat belt closed and we both pull down
on the safety bar that lands in our laps, pinning us to the rusted metal
contraption that I have deemed as my last resort to getting Edward straight in
the head.

There's music blaring all around us and I wonder if Edward can hear the words
like I can.

I held my head as I left the ground

The belts grew tight as the blast grew loud

A loving wish whispered in my ear

Please leave with grace, all the best my dear

He looks terrified as the guy behind the red button hits some horn that alerts us
to our departure.

The sun is set in the night time sky

The stars they cast a glow upon my eyes

The earth itself a burning ball of light

Yeah, it's like

When our first love was ignited late that night

Do you feel alive?

"Edward," I say calmly, waiting for him to look at me. When he finally does, I
drop a nervous hand to his and knot our fingers together on the bar resting
against our laps. "Thank you for tr – " My words get cut off as the air in my lungs
expel roughly.

The stars in your eyes light up the sky with thoughts, light, fire and sound

The coaster takes off at what feels like a hundred miles an hour, shooting us
directly up a steep hill and letting us totter for half of a second before
plummeting sharply straight down. My screams catch in my throat and I squeeze
Edward's hand impossibly stronger, trying to look at him against the G-Force that
is holding the back of my skull against the head rest and pulling my cheeks up
next to my ears.

I swear I'm not screaming, but there is the sound of a woman's high pitched
lamentations right next to my ear.

The coaster slows as it rounds a bend and I am afforded the ability to look over
at Edward, only to realize that the sounds are coming from him.

He is the screaming lady.

My head whips back into place as the coaster accelerates again and I smile as
wide as the sky as I listen to the joyful screams from Edward's lips. His hand has
a death grip on my own and I lose myself to the feel of our skin touching. To the
rattle and hum of the coaster tracks. To my heart thundering in my chest and the
pressure in my head. My stomach dropping to my knees and then being
resurrected in my throat.

All of it with eyes wide.

With lungs full of air.

The ride is over much faster than I had anticipated, and I wait with anxious heart
and held breath as the lever releases and the metal bar pops off of our thighs,
signaling that it is okay for us to exit the ride. Edward's mouth seems frozen in a
silent scream and his eyes are wide, hair a disheveled mess on top of his head.
His fingers are still digging into mine and it is serving as a reminder of why we're
here right now.

Hey, oh, here I am,

and here we go, life's waiting to begin.

I feel a bit of nausea settle into my gut as I look at him.

I cannot live, I can't breathe

unless you do this with me

Maybe I broke him…

Slowly, his head turns my way and we lock eyes.

His jaw trembles slightly and then…

"Holy shit," he exclaims breathlessly. "Holy shit, Bella. Holy shit."

"You're in one piece," I assure him, suddenly panicked by his use of expletives.

A smile spreads over his features and his eyes close tightly as he begins to laugh.
Really laugh. Like his body just can't contain it and the laughter must escape. As
if his soul is expelling every last bad thing that has ever resided inside of him.

With his head tilted back towards the late afternoon sun, he laughs towards the
heavens in the most beautiful way.

"You have to get out," the attendant says to the left of Laughing Like A Maniac
Edward.

I hold up my hand and shake my head. "Shh," I say, watching Edward the entire
time. "Can we go again?" I dig into my pocket and retrieve two more tickets.

But Edward shakes his head vigorously and pulls my hand to his face before he
presses my knuckles to his lips. Taking a steadying breath, he opens his eyes to
look at me, tears seeming to pool in the corners. "Let's do something else," he
laughs.

Like he means it.

Like he's happy.

I jump up and push my hands towards his shoulders to get him up and out of the
car. And we race down the exit, our footsteps loud and echoing across the
unsteady metal. I've never been so happy to hear my feet on the ground before.

He takes my hand as we move into the crowds of people and I look up to see him
eyeing a few of the booths. Before I can ask him what he's doing, he snatches
the tickets from my hand and makes a beeline to one of the booths. It takes me a
minute to catch up with him and I barely register how fast he's moved. But once I
get to his side, he turns to me triumphantly, his fists balled up in front of him like
he's got some kind of treasure in his hands.

"What?" I ask, breathless.

His eyes sparkle as he presents me with one balled up fist. Uncurling his fingers,
he presents me with a little gold ring with a big ass fake plastic diamond on it.
"Better than the rubber bands?"

I press my lips together as I hold back the legitimate tears in my eyes. Greedily I
take it and shove it onto my finger. "What's the other one?"

He shrugs and holds up another cheap looking ring before he slides the band
open to adjust it and slip it on his own finger.

Internally, I am doing a righteous fist pump.

I totally fixed him.

Edward shakes his head a little and leans forward to kiss me, his lips soft and
sweet against my own.

It was too easy…

"Shh," he breathes against my lips and opens his to become more forceful.

My heart is not in step with my head, though. My heart wants this to be true.
Wants it to be all right and a Happily Ever After. But could it be that easy?

My head swims as I pull back and look away from him to gather my bearings.
Which is when I see Alice rushing across the middle of the grounds with
something wobbly in her hands; Jasper chasing after her at top speed.

Of course, Alice is kicking his ass sprinting with her long legs.

I notice another commotion to my right and see Emmett holding Rose to his chest
tightly, rushing towards us. Like he is dragging a rag doll.

"What's happening?" Edward asks, pulling completely away from me.

Alice reaches us first, holding the demolished part of a funhouse mirror in her
hands. "I found my truth!" She yells, happier than I've ever seen her. Jasper
skids to a halt by her side and she smiles at him. All dopey-eyed and ecstatic. "It
makes Jasper look weird, but…" He leans over to catch his breath, hands on
knees as I turn my attention to Emmett who is rushing up on us faster than
expected.

"She's sick," he yells, running by us all towards the exit.

And it all happens so fast.

Emmett, pushing by people to get Rose out of the crowd.

Security rushing up on us to try and rip the mirror from Alice's hands as she
screams and tries to run the opposite way, almost taking Jasper out in the
process.

The white flash of coats that intercept Emmett's escape.

The pull of hands on my arms as a few orderlies accost both me and Edward, who
is staring slack jawed at a red faced Doctor Cullen as he shouts orders for all of
us to be detained.

My heart as it drops to my feet in sadness and anger. A feeling of loneliness
unlike anything I've ever experienced washing over me, and topped off with the
unshakable reality of…failure.

It all happens too fast.

We are taken much too early from our moment of respite.

We are corralled much too roughly.

And in my head, I can hear the others yelling that we're all fine and they should
let us go.

But the stares of the passer-bys make me freeze and fall into the doctor's arms
as he pulls me away lifelessly. Back to the hospital.

Our moment is over.

Our.

Lives.

Are.

Over.

Just like that, the spark is gone.

And we are back to square one.

The doctor is leading me away as I begin to cry and this time…THIS time… I can
hear myself begging him to let us have just a few more minutes.

"We're almost fixed," I assure him through the vice that is gripping my chest.
Through the tears and sadness that are threatening to consume me. "We're
almost…"

Doctor Cullen pulls me closer and shushes me, leading me through the exit and
into a white van where Alice is waiting. But no Rose. Its then that I see the
flashing of the ambulance lights as the siren begins to blare and a flash of white
and red screams by us in a rush.

And I can hear Emmett screaming from somewhere outside, fighting with the
orderlies.

Turning to stare out the back window of the van, I watch with a sick heart as
Jasper leans forward and pulls his hoodie up over his head. Right behind a rigidly
stiff Edward.

Its as if none of it ever happened. As if nothing has mattered this entire time.

Esme is in the front seat of the van and is watching me carefully as the driver
pulls out onto the street.

"Nothing matters," I cry into my sleeves as I press my palms to face.

"Everything that happened today matters," Esme assures me.

But the sound of Alice falling apart behind me just serves to add credence to my
initial statement.

.

.

.

The silence in my room later resounds louder than anything else. And I take my
medication like I'm supposed to, pressing my forehead against the eye - level
glass window in my door, staring out into the hallway and wondering how long it
will take for the meds to take effect with my state of mind so severely jacked up.

I wonder where Rose is and when she'll be back.

I wonder how Alice is handling herself in her room, looking at her reflection and
willing her 'truth' to be there just as it was in the funhouse.

I wonder if Jasper realizes just how much he means to her. To any of us.

I wonder if Emmett is even worse off since he had to watch Rose get loaded into
the ambulance.

But mostly, I wonder if Edward has retreated back into his head. I wonder if he
wishes, just as I do, that we could have those hours back again. Together. On
that roller coaster feeling more free and alive than I've ever felt in my entire life.

I wonder what the ramifications will be in the morning. Doc Cullen didn't speak to
us very much before banishing us to our rooms.

Perhaps we'll be punished.

Maybe then we'd feel something again.

As I shuffle towards my bed, I play with the plastic ring on my left hand and
silently pray that the medication won't leave me in a dreamless, black sleep.
Because then I can dream of Edward tonight.

(Aftermath)

Rose is returned to our room two days later. She's thinner and paler, if that's
even possible. And they bring her in after hours, in the dark, as if she's some
kind of night dweller.

I sit up in my bed at the initial sound of the door opening and watch with saucer-
wide eyes as she shuffles in quietly, seeming exhausted.

"Hey," I call to her and she gives a small hello back before she disappears into
the bathroom for a few minutes. When she comes back out, she's stripped down
to just her underwear and a sports bra, her ribs protruding even in the dim
moonlight.

I cringe as she bends over next to her bed, revealing her spine to me in the
process.

We're silent after she crawls under her covers and I stare up at the ceiling, trying
to find my voice before my courage runs completely out.

"I was so worried about you."

She shifts in her bed a little but doesn't respond.

"Everyone was worried about you, Rose."

More silence.

And then it hits me that she might think I'm talking to myself again.

"I'm talking to you, you know. I know that I'm saying this out loud."

My words are met with a choked sob and it makes me jump up from beneath my
covers to run over to where she has her blanket shoved inside of her mouth to
cover up the sound of her crying.

It seems as if there is no other choice for me.

I climb into her bed with her and wrap my arms around her frail shoulders,
pressing her shaking head under my chin as I shush her quietly. "Emmett won't
even say what happened. No one has spoken to each other in two days. It's been
awful waiting to see if you're okay."

"None of us are okay," she says with a bitter laugh.

"But we can be," I argue. I've been thinking about it for days. There has to be a
way for us to survive this.

But we can only do it with the help of one another.

"You can get better, Rose. I know you can."

"You don't know anything." Her face shifts lower against my chest. "When did you
become the optimistic one?"

"When I saw how happy you were outside of this place with Emmett."

She sits up a little and gazes down at me with watery eyes. "I'm too messed up.
He's too messed up. And…" her face crumbles as she begins to shake violently,
"he would never want me now anyway."

I'm so confused, but I press her, hoping she'll tell me what she means. "You're
beautiful, Rose."

"And I've messed up my body so much that I just got told I'll never have kids."
Her mouth opens and shuts a few times before a loud wail escapes her throat and
she's clutching to me like I'm the only thing keeping her above water.

"He told me he liked me. A lot. I believed him and while we were at the carnival,
he got me to eat. He's so different," her words come out between her sobs. "He
doesn't just see me, you know? Like, he's just…"

I nod because I get it.

It's the same with Edward.

"I wanted to do what to would take to get him to be happy with me. So I ate. And
I ate. And by the time I'd taken in a funnel cake and a corn dog…a slushie…Oh
God," she cries out and her hands wrap around her sides, like she's holding her
stomach in, "I didn't even have to make myself throw up. It just happened. And
happened and happened and then there was blood and…"

I'm holding her to me as she confesses and I close my eyes, picturing the panic
on Emmett's face as he watches her throw up blood and everything he's just
asked her to eat.

Because we thought it would fix her.

We were all to blame.

"I promise you, Rose. Emmett is going to be so excited to see you in the
morning. And," I start to tear up a little as I say it, "And I'm going to do whatever
I can to make sure you get out of here." She lifts her head to look at me again
and I hold up a pinky. "Pinky swear." We lock respective fingers and I look
between us at the way they make an infinity sign. "I'm not leaving here without
you."

Without any of you.

.

.

.

Morning comes much too quickly and I wince at the sunlight in my eyes as well as
the horrible pain in my back. But, looking down, I see the top of Rose's head and
I feel her arms around me, and it renews my mission.

Gives me peace.

Slipping from her bed, I take a shower and get ready to leave for breakfast.
We're escorted everywhere now, for fear that we'll try and escape again. So, I
wait for Rose to wake and after she's gotten herself ready, I take her hand in
mine and we face the door that leads from our room to the hallway.

"Baby steps," I tell her, my voice strong and confident. "You eat one piece of
toast, okay? Some orange juice. That's all I'm asking."

Rose tilts her head to look me over. "Just eat it?"

"And keep it," I amend.

She nods, looking fearful as we see the doorknob turn and a nameless nurse
escorts us down the hallway.

It might not be a Great Escape. But it's a step in the right direction.

The cafeteria seems eerily quiet as we step in, holding hands. Ready

to take on the world.

And then, in an instant…it comes to life.

Emmett is hurling himself towards us. With his arms wide and this look on his
face that makes my heart actually ache in my chest. It looks for a moment like
he's going to be intercepted by an orderly, but once he reaches Rose and pulls
her from my grasp into a bear hug, lifting her off of her feet with an exaltation of
pure joy…the hospital personnel all take a step back.

I can't help but watch it unfold as he buries his face in her hair and rocks her
back and forth. He's apologizing and blaming himself, though I know that I would
be the one mostly to blame in this scenario. But Rose hugs him back as tightly as
she can, not even able to wrap her arms completely around him due to his
massive circumference.

"I was so scared that I'd lost you," he admits painfully.

She's nodding her head and making sad sounds again, trying to pull away from
him in an effort to speak. But she's cut off abruptly by Alice, throwing herself at
the two others like a linebacker going in for a tackle. Rose looks momentarily
surprised before she adjusts herself and allows the bigger girl to suffocate her in
an embrace.

It's quickly followed by Jasper shuffling forward from a table towards the back of
the cafeteria, moving to Alice's side and circling them both with his arms; his
hood slipping a little and revealing that he's a little choked up by the experience.

I wait, knowing that he's coming, because while Edward and I haven't spoken to
one another in the past couple of days, we have looked at each other. And I saw
the change in his eyes, as if he were trying to retreat back into his Death Life, but
unable to due to the fact that he now knew the truth. He knew after that roller
coaster that he was alive.

It takes about a minute longer than I had anticipated, but I feel him move to my
side. I hear him call to Rose and welcome her back, his voice laced with relief.

We'd all felt like we were being punished with Rose being gone. Not knowing
what her status was. Not knowing if we had irreparably damaged her in our quest
to do what we thought could save us.

And it, in a way, made us understand the reality that one of us could go at any
time.

A group of suicide survivors. Worried about losing one of their own.

Our Group Purgatory had been those two days that we had simply existed without
a member of our group. Now we were whole. We were complete.

My palms start to sweat as I feel Edward draw nearer to me. And I close my eyes
in a silent prayer as I feel his hand brush against

mine. His palm meeting my palm. The scrape of his ring against my skin
reminding me that it did all happen.

And we were all here as proof.

.

.

.

Group starts off much differently than it ever has before.

I don't sit across the room from Edward.

I sit right next to him.

Each of us sits next to the one person we feel knows us the best, but even then
that isn't true. Because we are in a circle. And we can all look one another in the
eyes whenever we want to.

Doctor Cullen sits perfectly still as we all settle into our seats, and he has an odd
look in his eyes as he gazes over each one of us,

taking note of our new demeanors. The looks on our faces. Our body language
towards him.

"So, we're all back," he starts.

Emmett shifts in his seat and drapes an arm around Rose's shoulders. She seems
to be okay with the piece of toast in her stomach. She doesn't appear to want to
run to the bathroom to give it up. Instead, she leans into his side, and rests her
head on his thick shoulder.

Easy. Just like that.

Doctor Cullen notices the interaction and doesn't comment on it, instead choosing
to look down at his clipboard. "Now that you're all here, would you like to tell me
who the Mastermind was behind your break out?"

It's quiet as a tomb as we all look back him.

"We only caught you because of the use of my credit card. When we figured out
you have escaped and had stolen my wallet, I called to see if any charges had
been made on my cards." His stare is glued to Emmett, who simply shrugs in
return.

"You didn't have enough cash."

Doc Cullen shakes his head.

"Don't do that," I blurt out suddenly, even catching myself off guard.

Everyone in the room turns to look at me in disbelief.

I lick my lips and clear my throat before I lean forward in my chair to address the
doctor. "I know I'm talking out loud. And I'm telling

you, 'Don't do that'. Don't shake your head at us and act like you're so
disappointed in how this ended up. You did this. "

His eyes get huge as he leans back in his chair, clearly taken off guard. "Pray tell,
how do you suggest that this is my fault?"

I reach blindly for Edward's hand and pull it solidly into my lap. "You knew that
something like that would happen. You set it up."

Something runs through his mind and he taps his pen to his clipboard again. "Go
ahead. Let me hear your theory."

"You asked us to tell you why we are here. But you know why we're all here. In
the hospital. Why are we here in this circle right now having

this conversation? That's because of you."

Alice tilts her head and watches me silently as I ramble on.

"You took the six of us and threw us into an unsupervised room so that we
could…what, exactly? Tell our stories? Bond? Anywhere else it

wouldn't have worked. School. Camp. Anywhere else and we would have gone
our separate ways in our separate groups, ignoring the fact that we're all here
because something really, really screwed up has happened to us in our lives.

"You wanted us to see a Beauty Queen. A Freak. A Middle Child. A Jock. A Prude.
An Invisible Girl. You wanted us to see these things about each other…but I
guarantee you didn't think we'd try to fix anything."

I wait for a second to see if anyone else will jump in, but when they don't I press
on.

"You want to know why we're here in the hospital? Why we wanted to die?" The
room is even more quiet than it had been previously. "It's because we had no
reason to live." My hand tightens on Edward's. "Until now."

He squeezes back and I take a deep breath to continue. "We were brainwashed.
Made to feel useless and unloved. But the truth is that we are loved. None of us
would have attempted to get out of those

hospital doors if we didn't love one another…in one way or another."

Jasper is leaning forward now, his knee pressed against Alice's thigh. I can see
her register the contact, but she's too focused on me at the moment.

"Just knowing what's wrong with us isn't going to fix us. We needed a reason to
live again, Doctor Cullen. We needed to see that just

because we're broken doesn't make us disposable. Even by our own hands. Just
because we don't love ourselves doesn't mean that someone

else out there loves us enough... for our lives to be worth something in the end."

I'm breathing heavy now, but I persist. "We needed to see that someone wanted
us to eat." I eye Rosalie. "That it's okay to be imperfect. In fact, it's amazing to
be weird."

"That each of us has the ability to care for others. Like Emmett has inside of him,
beyond that rough exterior. That Jasper could find himself by not wallowing in his
misery. He could feel good about himself by showing Alice that she's normal, no
matter what her brain says about her body. That I could find my voice by
showing Edward that he is alive and no matter what one person did to him … he's
worth living."

"But, if you're asking why are we here right now in this room? It's because of
you. You weren't watching like you said you'd be. You were

screwing Esme when we broke out. You didn't check in on us more than once and
yet you still thought we'd be there when you came back?" My

voice has risen an octave. "We're crazy, don't you know? Why would you think
we'd listen to your stipulations when we didn't even care enough about ourselves
to try and live another day?"

Doctor Cullen's face settles into a pleased expression. Almost smug. "So, you
figured it out."

Jasper is shaking his head vigorously. "You knew this would happen?"

The older man shrugs. "I certainly didn't think you'd actually succeed in getting
out. Nor did I think you'd steal my wallet." He makes a point to look at Emmett
who does not appear to even care about it.

Alice shrinks back and wraps her arms around her knees, pressing her face to her
thighs and looking up at him from the awkward position. "So, what now?"

Carlisle smiles brightly. "Now, you have a reason to get better, right?" His eyes
scan the room and he takes a second to meet each of our eyes. "You have found
a reason to live. To figure out how to accept help, no matter where it comes
from."

I sit back and think over what he's said, trying to process it all.

"Friendship, especially at your age, can be the only thing to get you through
something like this." He sighs and places the clipboard on the ground. "Now that
you've found your reason to get better…Let's start, shall we?"

(Don't You) Forget

Lingering kisses below your hips

Softest skin for me to kiss

My trembling fingers

Soaking wet

Not an inch of you

They haven't met

Not a strip of skin

Denied to taste

Not a second of hurry

No moment of haste

No, I dawdle there

To hear you sing

Lifting up your wordless offerings

Your eyes so wide

You heart so free

Just as you

And I

Will be

Edward's last poem is burning a hole in my back pocket, reminding of just how
close I am to being in his arms again.

Doctor Cullen sits back in his office chair and lifts a brow in my direction as the
videotape of our first session comes to a close. I see now that I was talking the
entire time. I see now that my eyes were dead and cold, and that I looked as
though I were already dead before I even got there.

When the tape ends, he uses a remote to shut off the television. "When you first
arrived here at the hospital, I asked you what your biggest fear was. Do you
remember your response?"

I nod and look away from his face for a second. "My biggest fear was not
mattering to anyone. That I didn't actually exist and that the world wouldn't miss
me one bit if I was gone."

"And now?"

I smile and meet his gaze. "Now my biggest fear is that you won't approve me of
getting out of here to rejoin my friends."

He laughs and shakes his head, giving me a wry smile. "You're the one who
refused to go the last few times we tried to bring you before the board to leave."

I shrug. "It wasn't time."

"Why?"

Fidgeting, I look down at my jeans and pick at an imaginary hole there. "Because
I made a deal with myself that I wouldn't leave until everyone else was okay to
go, too."

It was true. I'd shown progress and had blossomed in therapy, finding my voice.
Finding myself. But I had promised that I would stay until every last one of my
friends had healed enough.

And I had.

Emmett had gone first. He'd turned eighteen, became Emancipated and left. Of
course, he didn't leave without promising to visit every single time that he could
so that he could see Rose. She accepted that, and I think that his departure gave
her the fuel she needed to truly focus and work on her self in order to get out
too.

But Jasper and Edward were the next to leave. And then Alice. Finally, Rose had
been given her okay to be released.

I'd watched as Jasper learned to speak his mind in a constructive manner. As he
learned to convey what he could in order to properly get the attention that he
needed. It wasn't perfect, but he was working on it.

Edward came to terms with his beating heart. And after some intense therapy
regarding his deeply religious upbringing, he found a good middle ground to
function. He still held firm in some of his beliefs. But not in all.

I had fingernail marks on my thighs that evidenced that.

And I was pretty sure that we were totally going to have sex when he came to
pick me up from being released.

In fact, I was banking on it.

Alice had been a hard nut to crack because her visual perception didn't align with
her mental perception. And she really had to come to terms with her father's
death more than anything. But Jasper had returned as often as he could to build
on their friendship, which eventually turned to romance. My personal opinion was
that their relationship was what saved her. Some girls replace their daddy's with
men that they date. For Alice, it was her saving grace.

As for Rose, she eventually got moved into the Eating Disorder portion of the
hospital. And even though we were no longer roommates, I stayed. I kept tabs
on her. I visited. And I watched as she slowly started to fill out. As her color
returned to normal. As her hair began to turn shiny and she started to radiate
health.

I waited until she was deemed healthy enough to leave. And I stayed through her
departure, making sure that she was gone and wouldn't come back. The final few
weeks by myself had been hard, but I'd had time to come to terms with my own
issues.

My father had come to visit only a handful of times, and I was sure he wasn't too
keen on how I'd changed. Because I didn't just talk: I spoke my damn mind. I
expressed my feelings so freely that he seemed appalled by it all. I laid it all out,
and even had him attend a couple of session with Doc just so that we could have
moderation while I told him about ever last thing I had on my mind.

Loudly.

I did not mumble.

I did not hide beneath my hands.

I spoke the truth and looked him in the eye while I did so.

But it didn't matter, because I was going to finish school and I was planning on
getting a place to live. With Edward. A small apartment that was only a couple of
blocks from where Emmett had found a place. And where we could be there for
one another in case something horrible caused a relapse.

Doctor Cullen pulled a form from his desk drawer and looked over the specifics
before addressing me again. "Tell me, Isabella. What do you plan to do with
yourself?"

I smiled. Wide. True.

"I want to do what you do, Doctor Cullen."

"Is that so?' He asked, smiling as he signed his signature.

I nodded, crossing my legs and leaning back in the chair. Relaxed. "Absolutely. I
want to do what you do." I chuckled. "Just better."

His mouth fell open a little as he swiveled in his chair and tentatively handed me
his recommendation for release.

As I left his office, I took my time walking down the hallway, running my right
hand across the painted walls and listening to my feet echo across the floor.

In a place filled with despair, I had found my life. My calling. My friends. My love.

Through it all, I had seen that small glimmer of hope. That laughter that allowed
me to bypass the pain.

I'd found that I mattered.

I was a super hero.

And I was fallible.

But life was too short to waste any more time within these neutral colored walls
and sterilized halls.

I was ready to live.

And I would never, ever forget what I had learned.

Raising the pink slip of paper in the air, I held it above my head as a smile
crossed over my face. The nurse behind the desk smiled back, nodding at me
once as she picked up the phone to make the call for me to be seen by the
committee regarding my release.

Because it was finally my time.

It was time to finally start living.