A/N: This story will not be an easy read for everyone. It's angsty and at times, it's not pretty. That said this isn't angst for the sake of angst. It's a story about psychological trauma and the ways people deal with it when they break under the strain. There are graphic scenes of violence. There is a guaranteed HEA. If you're okay with all of that, read on. If not, no hard feelings. :)

I don't own Twilight or the characters. I just borrow liberally.

Not ready to let go
Cause then I'd never know
What I could be missing
But I'm missing way too much
So when do I give up what I've been wishing for.

I shot for the sky
I'm stuck on the ground
So why do I try, I know I'm gonna fall down
I thought I could fly, so why did I drown?
Never know why it's coming down, down, down.
Oh I am going down, down, down

-Down Jason Walker

BPOV -

Sold.

I gaped in complete stupefaction at the word, trying to turn it around in my mind until it fit and the world righted itself again. It rolled around in there, bouncing off of my skull with the force of a sledgehammer, but it wouldn't fall into place. There was no place for it to fit into. It was too foreign. Too much.

"Angela, stop!" I shouted suddenly, my frantic demand dropping heavily into the silence between loud rock songs.

She slammed on the brakes instantly. The little red Accent fishtailed beneath us and then straightened again. Angela cursed like the pro I knew she wasn't, jerked the car to the side of the road and slammed it into park, oblivious to the fact that it was probably the worst possible place to stop.

"What the hell, Bella? You scared the crap out of me!" She glared, her voice shaking and her brown eyes narrowed as she twisted the knob on the radio, cutting it completely off.

"Sorry, sorry," I mumbled, my eyes darting past her and back to that sign.

It was sold? How could it be sold? It was mine. It had always been mine. It didn't make sense.

"I'll uh..." I cleared my throat roughly and fished blindly around for my camera case. "I need pictures."

Angela's eyes followed mine and I heard her sigh softly as she caught sight of the sign. Her shoulders slumped slightly. "Of course," she murmured immediately, not looking at me. Trying, in her own way I guess, to make this easier on me.

I grabbed for the door handle, that one word still rolling around in my mind. I wouldn't cry over it though. Not yet.

"Bella, wait," Angela's hand darted out and grabbed my arm.

I turned back to her, one brow arched in question.

"You can't cross here," she mumbled, dropping her hand from my arm. "Too much traffic. I'll park in the drive for you." She motioned toward the empty driveway across the street.

"Oh," I blinked at the cars zipping past us and nodded once before settling back against the seat again.

Angela scrutinized my face for a minute and then nodded. I sighed to myself, relieved once again that she was not the sort to pry. She knew how much this meant to me and that was enough for her. I was more grateful right then for that quite acceptance than I think I had ever been.

My mind ran back to the sign as she jerked the car into drive and shot out into traffic, cutting people off. I just couldn't believe it had actually been sold. When had it happened? Who bought it? Why now? Did they know...?

No. I wouldn't think about that.

"Hold on," Angela muttered and, with no further warning, flung the little car into a U-turn at the light, oblivious to all traffic signals as usual. The car fishtailed and then straightened again, shooting like an arrow back down the road.

Within moments, she was whipping into the vacant driveway and throwing the car into park again.

"Thanks," I mumbled, pushing the door open and climbing out, gratified that I was still actually alive. Ang was the sweetest person alive but she drove like a fucking maniac.

"Take your time," she called through the open door. "I'll be here." She made it sound as if she were talking about more than just waiting for me to finish. I figured she probably was…

I nodded once instead of thinking about the implications of that and adjusted the camera bag over my shoulder, suddenly reluctant to turn around and face it. I didn't figure it would be good. In my life, it was never good.

I turned slowly, worrying my bottom lip between my teeth. The sign was even more final up close. A part of my mind pointed out that I shouldn't care if it was sold, that it wasn't really mine. Another part told that one to mind its own fucking business.

I ignored both as I let my eyes rove over the familiar house, biting on my lip to keep from crying. It was massive. Three stories of red Victorian beauty. It shot up into the sky, drawing the eye whether you wanted to look or not. It was sweeping, Gothic… exactly the type of house that seemed ripped out of the pages of old spooky romance novels. Not even the slightly faded and peeling red paint detracted from that inherent beauty. It simply added charm to what might have otherwise been overwhelmingly impressive.

The late afternoon sun glinted off of the stained glass windows, lighting them to perfection. Tiny fairies floated in those panes seeming so sad and knowing that the image pierced my heart just as it always did when I got this close to the house anymore. Once upon a time, those fairies had seemed magical to me. Not sad, but like they were dancing in the window panes just for me. It wasn't like that now. It hadn't been since I was nine and everything had come tumbling down around me.

Little tufts of grass had broken through the sidewalk in some places over those long years, pitching the cement upward in uneven patches. I walked slowly, unable to look down for fear that it would still be there. Tripping and falling over one of those up-thrust bits of cement was infinitely preferable to seeing our hands still imprinted there. I would cry then and I did not want to cry again. Not yet.

The grass had not been cut recently and it swayed knee high in the winter wind. It reminded me of sweet melodies and carefree dancing. Unwelcome images floated to mind at that thought and I squeezed my eyes closed, refusing to entertain them. It would just make this harder. It always did.

The house tormented me. It haunted me at night and whispered in the back of my mind during the day. I should have hated it after everything, but I didn't. I couldn't. It was a part of me and, no matter how many bad memories it held, I would never stop loving it. I'd long ago resigned myself to that sad fact.

As I shuffled toward it, little arrows of sorrow piercing my heart, I wondered if I would ever be able to resign myself to the fact that it wasn't really mine anymore. That it might never be mine again.

I didn't think I would, especially not now, after everything.

I hated whoever had bought the house. It was irrational and I knew that, but I couldn't help it. The house belonged to me. It always had. And someone, some stranger, had reach out and plucked it away. My last tie to everything was just… gone.

The thought made me angry, forcing away the sadness and threatening tears. My jaw clenched. My eyes narrowed. I took a deep breath, gratified. It was a prickling anger; irritation. I could do that. Irritation was easy, comfortable. Safe.

I jerked the camera from around my neck and began taking shots of the house, ignoring the sign that wavered on the edges of my vision. I ignored everything, just pointing and clicking, as anger coursed through me.

Satisfied that I'd taken enough of the front, I marched around to the back of the house. My anger wavered slightly as the porch loomed into view. I loved that porch. It was huge and wrapped lazily around the entire back half of the house. It was glassed in, but I knew those windows rolled back and the sweetest of breezes would rustle through that little piece of heaven.

I gritted my teeth and lifted the camera, but couldn't bring myself to take a picture. It was different now. Empty. There was no riot of greenery poking up through sparklingly clean glass. No breeze rustling the leaves until they made a soft scratching noise. No comfortable chairs or laughter. No warmth.

I wanted to remember what the porch had been, not what it was now. It was empty and devoid of life now. Not the paradise I'd loved so fiercely for so long.

God, what I wouldn't give to have that back. Just once. Five minutes. Ten. Just once to have it back and not remember how it ended or why it ended.

I swung angrily away from the porch as tears began to burn up my throat. My eyes fell on the half obscured path that led down to the river. My feet started moving in that direction, even as my mind screamed for me to turn around and go no further.

I should have listened to those screeching warnings, but of course I didn't. Of course not. I never listened.

I stepped to the edge and the grief hit me like a hammer blow, knocking me breathless. I swayed on my feet, dropping the camera and wrapping my arms around my stomach, trying to hold myself together as the pain lashed and stabbed at me.

Nothing at all had changed here. Little stairs were still carved into the hill, leading down to the river. The greenish water lapped at the tiny dock that had been built just for me, causing it to sway ever so lightly in the water.

I would never forget that dock and the first time I had seen it.

I'd squealed and raced down the steps, my tiny hand in his larger one. I had been so very excited; I'd nearly dragged us both down the steep steps. He'd caught me up in his arms, laughing, and carried me the rest of the way before setting me on my feet at the edge. I'd danced out to the center, spinning in circles and laughing as he watched, his eyes crinkled and twinkling.

My legs collapsed as I remembered. I would always remember and I just wanted to fucking forget.

The sorrow I'd been fighting back for weeks swamped me. I huddled on my knees right there at the edge of the little hill, my arms wrapped around my stomach as the sobs wracked my body.

I had been so very stupid, trying to hold on to this. I should have known better. I should have seen it coming. The house, this little slice of what had once been heaven, wasn't mine anymore. It hadn't been for a long time.

So... why did it feel like something vital to me was being ripped out, piece by excruciating piece?

I didn't know. I didn't care. It was so unfair. And it hurt. God, it hurt. I just wanted to curl up on my side right there and stay. For an hour. A day. Eternity. Whatever made it hurt less.

I wanted it back. I wanted all of it back.

And I couldn't have it. None of it. Not the house, not any of it.

I whimpered.

"Miss?" A soft, masculine voice called from behind me in obvious concern.

Oh dear God.

Mortification rushed in to war with sorrow, not quite able to push it away, but trying anyway.

"Are you okay, miss?" He sounded no closer

"F-f-fine," I gasped out, still sobbing. I brushed frantically at my face, trying to scrub the tears away. It was completely pointless, of course. More tears just slipped out to take their place.

Dead leaves rustled behind me. Long blue jean encased legs and horrid black Nikes entered my peripheral vision.

Oh dear God. Why couldn't he just go away? I clamped a hand over my mouth as another sob threatened to burst out.

"You don't seem very fine," he pointed out gently, kneeling beside me.

I turned my head away, not wanting to let a stranger watch me cry. I didn't want him to pry. I didn't want to see the spark of recognition when he figured out who I was and why I was falling apart in the middle of a yard. It was too much. Way too much.

"Are you hurt? Should I call for help?"

I didn't answer. What would I say? Some asshole bought the house I've loved my entire life and I might or might not hate him for it? I'd sound like a complete idiot. I already felt like one, whimpering for things I could never have again.

"Please answer me," he pleaded; his soft velvety voice alarmingly pleasant and sounding slightly distressed.

"Please go," I whispered, choking back another sob. I sounded pathetic. My voice was all thick and hoarse. "Please," I whimpered again as another sob threatened to burst out. Dear God, why couldn't I stop?

Please, please just let me stop!

"I..."

"Bella? Bella!" Angela's voice turned frantic and I knew she'd spotted me.

The stranger leapt to his feet.

I groaned and sobbed again, burying my head in my hands.

Leaves rustled again.

"What did you do to her?" Angela's sharp voice demanded as she dropped to her knees beside me. One thin arm went around my waist and I leaned into her, my head still in my hands and tears still falling.

"I... nothing." The guy sounded surprised this time. "I found her like this!"

"Bella, honey, what happened?" Angela demanded less sharply this time.

"He didn't..." I shook my head. "I..." I couldn't stop crying long enough to explain that he wasn't responsible for my breakdown; that it was my fault for coming here. "I..."

"Is she okay?" The guy sounded distressed again. I could just imagine him standing behind us, alternatively rubbing his balding hair and wringing his hands.

Men. They never knew what to do with a crying woman.

"How the hell should I know?" Angela demanded, growling at him.

"Please," I whimpered, scrubbing at my eyes again. If I didn't calm down soon, Angela might actually bite his head off. He hadn't done anything and she would regret it. "Home." I pushed away from her and scrambled to my feet, biting my bottom lip hard to keep from sobbing again at that one word. I no longer had a home.

I lurched forward blindly before the grief of that could knock me down again.

Angela was at my side in an instant, wrapping an arm around my waist. I kept my head down, unable to look at the stranger I had embarrassed myself in front of and stumbled along beside her.

"I'm s-s-so sorry," I whimpered as she pushed me into the passenger seat of her car. "I tho-thought I- c-could..."

God, how wrong had I been? I couldn't. Not even a little bit.

I was so stupid.

EPOV

I stood at the edge of the yard, her camera in my hand and her name on my lips, but I didn't move or call after her. I was rooted in place, watching as her friend settled her into the passenger seat and closed the door. Bella.

Her name was Bella.

I could see her lovely lips moving and instinctively knew that she was apologizing for crying. What I didn't understand was what had made her fall to her knees in the first place.

She had looked angry when she'd stepped around to the back of the house, stumbling as she looked through the viewfinder of the camera now in my hands. She had not looked sad.

I'd been too stunned when I'd seen her to ask who she was or what she was doing taking pictures of my new house. I hadn't even managed to work myself up to being angry that my location had already been found.

Oh no, I'd not managed anger at all. I'd spotted her and every single thought in my mind had simply dissolved. She looked like an angel with her lips parted and her silky hair flowing out behind her. And then she'd turned away from the house and she hadn't been angry anymore. Her expression had been so devastated, my heart had actually hurt. I'd never seen such loss and sorrow before and it killed me to know she felt it.

I'd meant to call out to her, but then she'd dropped the camera and fallen to her knees, heart wrenching sobs tearing from somewhere deep inside. They had broken my heart. I did not know her, but I wanted to comfort her more than I'd ever wanted anything in my life. I wanted to protect her from whatever made her cry like that.

God help me, I still wanted to and I didn't know why.

All I knew was that no one that beautiful should ever be that broken.

"Christ," I breathed softly, staring down at the camera in my hands as the little red car bolted out into traffic and disappeared from view, taking Bella with it.