Beep. Beep. Beep.
There was one thing Bella hated most of all; above asparagus, sports, and math.
They scared her, she wasn't afraid to admit that. Everytime she was in one, she didn't see the happy people walking out of it; she saw the dead bodies being rolled into the morgue under the thin plastic sheets on stretchers.
And right now, Edward was close to becoming one of those dead bodies.
She remembered some force; some goddamn force making her turn into a dead end road that led to a meadow...she had no idea why, really. She just knew she .now.
And when she saw him, the blood dripping from his forehead, the gun beside his head, she broke down in tears. Her mask of indifference broke. She wanted to die with Edward.
She needed to.
But somehow, she found it in herself to call 911 ("Please, my boyfriend j-j-just sh-shot himself i-in th-the h-head! Oh God! Oh God! Oh God EDWARD!"), and them sending an ambulance ("Please calm down ma'am, please calm down. Where are you? We're sending someone right now. Ma'am! Please calm down! I can't understand you! Where are you?").
She remembered them boarding his body into the white, flashing van ("NO! NO! TAKE ME WITH YOU! NO! DON'T TAKE HIM FROM ME!"), and she remembered sobbing all the way to the hospital, and being kicked out into the waiting room.
And she remembered that horrible, horrible phone call ("Dead Bella honey, she's dead. Shot by the graverobbers; no honey, I told you. No one can talk to her anymore. No one. Alice is gone, honey."), and how she refused to leave the hospital ("Ma'am, we're closing up. You have to go.") and how she had clung to Rosalie all the way to her house, and for the first time in years, had hugged her mother, sobbing and sobbing and wanting to die with her Edward.
That was six months ago. And here she was, everyday, morning to evening, in that white, horrible little hospital room, listening to the heart monitor beep incessantly, and only hoping and praying Edward would wake up.
Because she couldn't lose anyone else.
She told him about how Alice's funeral was; how the little pixie girl was lowered into a small coffin, a grave dug before his mother's had grass grown over it; before she had even been buried for a week.
She told him about her schoolwork; told him about which college she thought about going to, or if she was just going to get a job and wait for him to go with her so they could go together.
She told him about how Rosalie and Emmett were getting close, and how Jasper looked as if a pained look were always on his face. She told him that she missed him, not just her, but Rosalie, Emmett, Carlisle, Esme, his father, her mother, Jasper....told him how she would always be late to school because he wasn't there to pick her up anymore.
She wanted him back. She just wanted him back. Bella wanted her Edward back.
So she waited, in that little cramped hospital room, watching Edward's serene face, listening to the beep beep beep of the heart monitor.
A light tap to her shoulder jolted her from a nightmarish sleep; nightmares were all she had now, no sweet dreams of getting married and having her daddy walk her down the aisle and little Edward's and Bella's and a picket fence, only nightmares of blood and funerals and black and how ugly the colour was becoming, only nightmares.
She shuddered; the plastic chairs in the hospital rooms were so hard. But, blinking the sleep out of her eyes, she involuntarily yawned and turned behind her anyways.
Renee was behind her with a bag of some kind of food and a concerned look on her face.
"Honey, you never leave this room unless they kick you out. Nothing's going to happen if you go out to eat for 15 minutes."
"I'm not taking any chances," Bella murmured softly, grabbing the bag and pulling a cheeseburger from it.
The elder woman pursed her lips but didn't say anything, only sat down in the chair beside her daughter. Anyone could tell a disturbing thought was going through her head; she was biting her lip and playing with her hands in her lap.
"Is there something you'd like to say?" Bella couldn't refrain from asking; usually the one that brought her food was Rosalie or Emmett, or rarely Jasper. But never her mother.
"I just- think maybe- uhm. Dear, I just think maybe you should be open to the idea he won't wa-"
"Don't say that!" Bella screeched, jerking up, the bag and cheeseburger falling to the floor. Lettuce and a pattie along with other condiments littered the floor.
"Just don't, Mother." Bella spat, her tone slightly less crazed, though there was a note of hysteria that was there. It was always there.
"We're closing up soon to visitors miss. You might wanna leave soon," A nurse poked his head in the door, then, seeing the fight, poked his head back out and walked away, whistling softly. He hadn't seen anything. He wasn't cleaning that mess up.
"I have to go," Grabbing the bag, she kissed Edward lightly on his cheek then slammed the sanitory door shut as she walked out into the hospital halls, leaving her mother dazed, confused, angry, and slightly hurt. She didn't know what to do. Her daughter didn't answer to anything. How was she supposed to help her if Bella wouldn't let her in?
"Rain, rain, go away, come again another day..." The song was soft on her tongue, the knife sharp on her milky skin, fat, red droplets of blood staining the bathroom tiles under her, but she didn't care about that, only the intricate little design of a sailboat carved into her arm. She would clean the mess later, and no one would ever know.
They never did, except him. And he was almost dead anyway. Bella snorted. Renee had said so herself.
She hummed softly as she carved in the sail, hissing as she cut in a puckered, pink scar that was barely a week old; it opened, blood gushing from it. She smiled; what a pretty waterfall for her sailboat.
"Rain, rain, go away, come again another day..." She repeated those lines over and over until her pretty little sailboat was done; Bella smiled proudly at her work. It was easy to tell it was a sailboat, with little waves under it. She dropped the knife carelessly and stood up, rubbing her foot across the tiled floor, a towel under her socked foot.
Soon, the white towel was a deep red, and she tossed it in the garbage can before grinning slightly, touching the sail, and hissed a small bit before stripping of her clothes and into her bedclothes and crawling into the bed. She yawned. She would clean up the mess tomorrow. It was a good enough stress reliever that the clean up was worth it.
Renee's eyes widened; what was that red stuff on the towel? And why the hell did it smell metallic?
Author's Note: Erm, sorry. I suck. :( Hope this chappie is good though! Review, please? I'm not making any promises, though I hope I can get the next chappie out sooner, I almost always say that, and feel bad when I don't get to it. Seriously.
can you guys vote on the poll on my profile? I seriously wanna know
what everyone thinks. Everyone's opinion counts, bad or good or in
the middle. :D FallLilyFall (changed my penname.:)
FallLilyFall (changed my penname.:)