I wanted to write a story about Edward's return. I always found it kind of…odd…how Bella just forgave Edward without a second thought. I mean, I know she loves him, but he hurt her. I think it was completely and totally wrong of her to just forgive him. It is like saying, "You can do whatever you want to me. I will always forgive you no matter what." He basically has free reign over her. That is completely and totally wrong.

I know other people have written stories about Bella not accepting Edward back for a while, but I promise my story is different. Other people's versions frustrate me to no end. I always find something wrong with them. It is no fault of the author. I just invision it completely differently.

Anywho…I hope you enjoy it!

(And yes, I will still be updating Through Your Eyes. I just HAD to get this out of my head first.)

Bella's Point of View

One year. The love of my life left me exactly one year ago today.

This past year had been a living nightmare. I can't eat. I can't sleep. It feels like my heart had been ripped out and thrown on the ground where everyone proceeded to jump on it in joyous excitement.

The only thing that has kept me alive is Charlie. I have kept myself alive through the knowledge that Charlie still cares about me and that if I did something drastic to myself, he would go off the deep end. I couldn't do that. Not to Charlie.

I had to do something though. I couldn't just stay alive and suffer through all the pain. I had to find some sort of…outlet. And it had to be a pretty big outlet too.

I lay in my bed one day, about two months after he left, thinking about it.

I was in emotional pain. Deep emotional pain. Some people might feel like I am in too much emotional pain, that I am being irrational. But he was the love of my life. He is the love of my life. I didn't feel whole anymore without him. I knew that this probably was irrational, but I can't help my feelings. You can't make yourself feel happy when all you want to do is lie in bed and rot.

What if I could turn that emotional pain into physical pain though? I had handled physical pain plenty of times before. That sort of comes with being a klutz. It was the emotional pain that I couldn't handle. So I needed to replace that emotional pain with physical pain.

Cutting was the first thing I thought of that day. But cutting seemed too drastic. Besides, I couldn't handle blood. Cutting involved lots of blood. I quickly pushed that idea aside.

I had once heard of someone who pulled out their hair. If you pull out more than one strand at a time, it is sure to cause you physical pain.

That day, I decided to try taking out all of my emotional pain on my hair. I went into the bathroom to test it out.

I looked at myself in the mirror. I was so frail, so sickly looking. I barely ate anything anymore, only enough to keep me alive. I rarely slept. Closing my eyes was too dangerous when all I would dream about was him.

Maybe replacing my emotional pain with physical pain would help me feel well enough to eat healthy again. Maybe it would help me sleep again. Maybe I could actually be happy again.

So that day, with those thoughts in mind, I put my hand to my head and grabbed a fistful of hair. I closed my eyes and pulled with all my might.

The pain brought me comfort. I no longer felt the emotional pain that I had been holding onto for so long. I only felt the burning in my scalp.

It felt…nice not to have to deal with the hurt anymore. It was definantly a change. A change for the better…or so I thought.

Now that ten months have gone by, I realize my mistake. Pulling doesn't help anything. Sure, it replaces the emotional pain of him leaving me. But now I feel emotional pain from this addiction I have created. I can't help myself anymore. When any memories of him come into my mind, I can't help but run into the bathroom and rip my hair out until I don't remember him anymore.

I am suffering from the emotional pain of my outward appearance. I had to cut my hair to try to hide this addiction from people. My once flowing, brown hair now runs to the end of my chin and curls underneath. It flows no more.

And I have to suffer from the emotional pain of trying to hide this from people. I don't want anyone to think of me as a freak even though I am. I am the biggest freak there is.

So here I sit now, with my short hair and my dark secrets, in Calculus trying desperately to shake off this feeling I have had all day. This feeling that something is going to happen; something big that no one can stop.

I laid my head on the desk trying to clear my mind. I had the urge to run to the bathroom to rip out my hair, but I couldn't. Not here with so many possible witnesses. Not when Charlie thinks I am better after the rehab he put me in.

After Charlie found out about my pulling, he immediately found a place for me to go for a few months. I went to school there so I wouldn't fall behind. Charlie made sure to keep it a secret by saying I went to visit my mother.

I have been doing so well. I haven't pulled in two weeks. Charlie was proud of me. I couldn't disappoint him by running into the bathroom now. I couldn't hurt Charlie like that.

I closed my eyes and tried to think of something else, anything else to rid me of the memories that were now seeping into my head.

"Isabella, are you alright?" Mr. Varner asked out of nowhere.

It would be so easy now. I could lie to him and tell him I had to go see the nurse. I could run to the bathroom and pull. Just one clump would be sufficient. Just one clump…

"Yes Mr. Varner. I am just fine," I said quietly as I raised my head.

I had Charlie to think about. If no one else, I had Charlie.

I walked into the lunchroom and sat at my usual table with Angela and Ben. They were the only ones who still talked to me. They were the only ones who tried anyway.

"Hey Bella. How are you doing today?" Angela asked.

Angela and Ben were the only ones who knew my secret besides Charlie. I knew what she was asking. "I am doing…good," I answered quietly.

"How long has it been now?" Ben asked.

"Two weeks to the day," I said.

Angela squealed. "I am so proud of you Bella! You are so strong."

"I don't feel strong," I whispered looking down.

"Oh Bella," Ben said. He patted me on the back. "It is going to be okay. I promise you that."

"Thanks," I said trying to smile. At least I had Ben and Angela. They were such good friends.

"Where is your food?" Angela asked.

"I'm not hungry."

"I thought you might say that. So I took the liberty of getting you a piece of pizza," Ben said proudly.

I smiled slightly. "Thanks Ben." I took the pizza and took a small bite.

The rest of lunch, Angela and Ben talked. They tried to get me to join in the conversation, but it was no use. This was how it was every lunch. Angela would ask me how I was. I would say good. Ben would ask how long. I would tell them. Ben would give me a piece of pizza. They would go on talking with no success as to make me join.

The bell rang signaling that we had five minutes to get to class. I stood up and turned around to start walking away when I saw the one person I thought I would never see again. The one person who had hurt me so badly, so deeply was standing right in front of me.

The world seemed to stop. Everyone around me became a blur. There was only he and I now.

His eyes held a look of deep concern. I think I even saw a hint of pain in them, but I couldn't be sure. I was too shocked.

"Bella," he whispered.

I had longed to hear his sweet, velvet voice for a year now. I had longed to see his beautiful, angelic face for a year now. I had waited to touch him for a year now. But for some reason, I couldn't make myself move. My brain didn't seem to be functioning anymore.

"Bella," he whispered again. "Oh how I have missed you."

My knees buckled beneath me and I fell to the ground. All was black.

I woke up to the sound of a soft engine purring beneath me. I slowly opened my eyes and found myself in the back seat of his Volvo.

He was in the front seat driving to who knows where. I could see his eyes in the mirror. They looked hurt. He was in pain.

Slowly, I sat up. He immediately turned around and looked at me with deep concern in his eyes.

"Bella," he said relief evident in his voice.

"Look at the road," I whispered hoarsely.

He frowned at me but turned around.

I looked at him in deep awe. Was he really here? Was I really in his Volvo right now?

I lay back down and closed my eyes. I was just dreaming. I had to be. He didn't love me. He wouldn't be here right now if he didn't love me.

I felt the car come to a stop. He opened his door and was opening my door in what seemed to be the same second. Carefully, I felt him lift me out of the car and start carrying me somewhere.

I opened my eyes to find us in my driveway headed for the front door. I looked up at him in shock. His lips were pressed into a thin line.

He was really here. He was here at my house. He was here with me.

He opened my door, not seeming to be stopped by the fact that it was locked, and carried me over to the couch. He carefully laid me down and put a blanket around me. He then sat down on the floor and started running his hand through my hair.

"What did you do to your hair?" he asked quietly.

My eyes widened. I couldn't tell him. I couldn't tell him what kind of a freak I had become.

"Not that I don't like it," he added quickly. "It's just…different."

"I cut it," I whispered. My voice was hoarse. Was it always that hoarse?

He nodded his head. "I have missed you so much Bella," he said.

I couldn't say anything. This was all too much for me. Everything was happening too fast.

I got the urge to run up to the bathroom and pull my hair. I had to do it. But I couldn't. Not with him here. So I closed my eyes tightly and put my hands to my head.

"Are you okay Bella?" he asked in alarm.

Why couldn't I be happy now? He was back. He seemed to want to be in my life again. Why couldn't I say 'I missed you too?' Why couldn't I say anything?

"I'm…fine," I struggled to say. Angela, Ben, and Charlie were going to be disappointed in me. I was about to break my two-week record. I had to pull now.

I shot up and jumped off the couch. He tried to hold me back, but I screamed. Immediately, he let me go.

I bolted up the stairs and ran into the bathroom where I locked the door behind me. I grabbed what little hair I had left and pulled. I pulled as hard as I could.

I sunk to my knees and continued to pull. Tears were now streaming down my face, and I was screaming in complete agony.

Why couldn't I just take him back? I loved him! I loved him so much! But I couldn't seem to forgive him for what he did to me. He couldn't say all those things to me and then come back a year later and expect me to take him back with open arms. That would give him the idea that he could push me around and do whatever he wanted to me.

I must have pulled at least five fistfuls of hair before he broke down the door and stared at me in complete shock.

"Isabella Marie Swan!" he said in horror. "What have you done?"

So there you go. I am sorry it is so depressing, but I HAD to get this out there. Like I said, all those other versions of this out there bug me to no end. I HAD to show you all how I think it would go.

No, this story is not over. It will continue…if you want it to. Do you want it to?

Oh, and by the way, I am in NO WAY WHATSOVER trying to promote the idea of pulling. No, I do not pull my hair. I do however know someone who did once. It doesn't help anything. DON'T DO IT! And please don't blame me if you do start doing it. I don't want anyone getting the idea that it is okay. IT IS NOT OKAY! Don't do that to yourself! PLEASE! Be smart!

Please REVIEW! I need to know if you want me to continue.