A/N: I know. I really shouldn’t start another story, but this idea won’t leave me alone, so I’m going to write it.

Only the prologue is in third person – the majority will be in Bella’s perspective.

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight.

Prologue

“The room was eerily dark, shadows dancing along the blank walls. The only audible noise came from the pattering of the rain that was being splattered onto the windowpanes. He walked forward unsteadily, the candle’s flame threatening to give out on him as he climbed one last stair. Turning around –“

The typing stopped, the sound of fingers pounding on a keyboard ceasing. The room fell quiet, much like the one Edward had been describing, and the fat raindrops hit the window behind drawn shades. The only light came from the screen of his computer, casting a haunting glow upon his sharp features, and the crease in his brow grew deeper as he stared at the words. Frustration seeped into his movements as he clenched his fists, his eyes glazing over.

“It’s not right.” He slammed down on the ‘delete’ button much more forcefully than necessary. In an instant the page was clear and he picked up the already cold cup of stale coffee, wincing as he gulped down the mug’s remains. He waited, his exhausted eyes shifting around the room slowly, waiting. He needed inspiration to strike.

He had nothing. His creativity had abandoned him, much like everything else in his life, leaving him with a page that had been erased too many times and a chapter stuck in his head that couldn’t seem to be translated onto paper. A quick look at the clock told him it was 3:47 in the morning, and he chuckled with bitter amusement. His eyes burned from the fatigue and his mind was foggy, screaming at him to tear his gaze away from the screen and get the sleep he desperately needed. But as he did most nights, he ignored it. Refocusing his attention to where Rhett was going to go once he turned around, he threw himself into his work and continued with the paragraph.

“The wind howled, and the candle was extinguished. He cursed softly, fumbling against the wall as –“

“As what?” Edward shouted to the empty room, the harsh outcry striking against the silence. His eyes involuntarily closed as the memories bombarded him, and while he tried to keep them away, his weakness forbid it. Te feeling was searing, as if he had been scalded with a white-hot brand. He cringed as words echoed in his mind, clenching his fists and taking deep breaths in and out.

He could hear the shattering of the glass, the screams, the voices. But he couldn’t feel. Numbness swept his body, paralyzing him. Preventing him from feeling anything.

A car horn interrupted his train of thought, another string of profanities flying out of his mouth as he leaned back in the chair and looked around at his surroundings. The room was covered in shelves, books with tattered covers lining each one. Notebooks filled with shallow, cliché ideas covered all flat surfaces, accompanied by empty coffee cups, CD cases and month-old newspapers. Briefly he thought about getting up and cleaning, but he knew it would be pointless. It’d be back to this same state of disorganization tomorrow, just as it always was. It felt safe to him. It was his sanctuary; the only place he couldn’t hurt anyone.

“Rhett, what have you gotten yourself into?” He grumbled, his eyes shutting once more as he thought of all the different scenarios he could write. None of them seemed to fit, and of course his character wouldn’t do half the things he was envisioning, and yet it was so tempting. Kill him off. Have him fall down those stone steps he had been climbing for the past page and a half. Have him run out like a coward, back down the tower and out the door, forgetting the whole thing.

No. That hit too close to home for him to even think about.

None of it worked.

He may have been brain-dead, but it was imperative that justified characterization remained. He wasn’t about to let his writing fall through the cracks just as everything else had.

Afraid he’d do something drastic, he closed the document and opened his inbox. The unread messages poured in like a flash flood, evidence of his absence from reality over the past few days, and he barely bothered to look at the senders’ names before dragging them one by one into the trash. Various bits and pieces of messages caught his eye as he made quick of his work, telling him to come home. That he’d kept up the charade long enough. Some less cordial than others, but he ignored them all the same. He didn’t care anymore.

The only ones he did look at were from his editor, telling him how he needed to hurry up and finish the book. They had given him enough time, and the deadline was approaching startlingly fast.

He groaned, running his hands though his hair as he narrowed his eyes at the text. The rest was all junk mail, screaming for him to buy pointless things he didn’t need and inviting him to numerous events he knew he’d never attend.

He sighed as he closed the laptop all together and pinched the bridge of his nose, gripping the coffee cup’s handle in his other hand and glaring at it’s emptiness. He needed the caffeine. His eyelids were drooping, his head rocking back and forth as the distinct shapes of each picture frame and trinket sitting on his desk began to blur.

He needed sleep. He’d gone days without it, his medication laying discarded on the bathroom floor, but he couldn’t fight it any longer.

“Just for a moment,” he mumbled to himself, settling back in his chair. His eyes fluttered shut, grateful for the rest they were about to receive and he sighed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Just one moment.” He repeated sternly to himself. He couldn’t allow himself to waste any more time than that.

He was jolted awake by a siren blaring down the street what seemed like seconds later, but a look at his watch told him it had been much longer than that. He wanted to kick himself for letting so much time pass, and yet he didn’t have much of a choice. When the insomnia allowed him to slip into unconsciousness, even if only for a minute, he tried to grab the chance.

Edward heard the front door open, the hinges squeaking and breaking the silence that had previously filled the room. The heavy footsteps grew closer and he rubbed his eyes, preparing himself for what he knew was coming.

“Edward,” the voice called out, a warm hand clapping him on the shoulder. “Come on, son. Take a rest.”

His father was used to finding him in this state. He hardly bothered with looking at him; the conventional formality of a ‘hello’ or ‘goodbye’ had long since passed.

“I don’t know if I can,” he replied softly, flexing his fingers. They were itching to get back to the story, but he knew Carlisle wouldn’t let him tonight.

“You need to,” Carlisle replied firmly, standing him up. “Sleep on it. I brought your prescription. You can get back to work in the morning.”

He stretched his arms over his head, wondering if the heat was on as he shivered uncontrollably. His father looked at him, concerned, and he grabbed the sweatshirt that had been left in a heap on the floor.

“Put this on,” he instructed. “You’ll freeze. I’ll have to go turn the heat back on.”

Edward momentarily wondered when he had turned it off, but his semi-conscious state didn’t make room for coherent thoughts. Carlisle led him to the small bedroom and stripped down the sheets, patting him on the shoulder once again.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said quietly, leaving Edward to himself. “Be ready to go by nine. It’ll be a long day, and I don’t want you exhausted. The pills are on the counter.”

Edward nodded mutely, barely acknowledging Carlisle as he watched him walk out the door before falling down onto the bed clumsily, his exhaustion taking the reins. The stiff material of his jeans was uncomfortable and the bulkiness of the sweatshirt bothered him, but he couldn’t move. He sluggishly grasped at the bottle his father had left for him and downed the pills for the first time since Tuesday, finally resting his head on the pillow.

Another day finished in his own personal hell.

A/N: Review, please. I’d appreciate it.

And there is a Twilighted thread for this story - I'll post teasers and answer questions over there. You should check it out; it's where all the cool kids hang.