Me no own...thanks to quirkyalice for talking me through this, and not giving away spoilers!

Thinking. It was all I ever did, I wasted minutes, hours, entire days just sitting in my room, thinking. Thinking about him. My thoughts of him didn't keep me constantly occupied, much as I wished they had. They often went down, deep into the recesses of my mind, to the memories of that night, two years ago. It was the night that I had fallen, I had fallen from his love, and from the position I had thought myself steady in. I had thought that I was steady in my position as a girlfriend, as a best friend, as a mate.

But that day proved to me that life was precarious, that we could sink from even the highest ecstasy in a matter of minutes. It had taken six months for me to reach how happy I was, but it had taken only five minutes to knock how I felt back down again, to stop me feeling like I was happy, like the only way life could get better was if I was bitten. He had held my life in his hands, he had held my fragile life in his cold, dead hands and he had just let it go. His hands were never meant to hold my life, to hold me.

It didn't matter what I did, how I tried to keep myself together. I went to the therapist like I was asked to, I did everything that I was supposed to, but I couldn't keep strong. I wasn't strong. And I couldn't move along. He was wrong; I couldn't pick myself up and move along. He had said that the human mind was like a sieve. If that was true, mine was one of those ones that have the tiny pink pricked size holes in them, or my memories are like icing sugar that's been left open.

What was the point in moving on? There was nothing left for me to live for any more. I had no hope left. Charlie was dead; he had died in a traffic accident two months ago. My hope was gone. Jacob, my personal sun, was gone. He wouldn't even speak to me at the funeral. I understood, but he had to realise that I had gone to Volterra because of him. Not in spite of him, because of him. Because he had told Edward that Charlie was at the funeral, he had told him that I was dead when I wasn't. What was the point in moving along? The only reason I would be moving along would be to make it through.

Why should I even try? They were gone. Alice, my sister, Rosalie, the girl I wanted to know, Jasper, whom I had caused so much pain. Emmett, my brother, the guy I went to for protection. Esme, my second mother, who had treated me so well. Carlisle, the doctor, the physician who cured all my physical ailments. And him. Him. The man I had loved and lost.

That day in the forest was the day that I lost myself completely; it was the day that he had ruined everything. That night, when I was in my bed, wishing for my personal AC unit to be there was when I realised that my life had ended, that I would never be whole again.

The pain was there, it was constant. His heart, his frozen, dead heart had held all my life, and in return made it alive. But it deceived me, he deceived me. When he left, he took it all. He held my life, my heart in his cold, marble-like hands. And he still held it all in his hands. But when he held my heart, he held my pain; he was the source of my pain. His hands held my pain, and the only way for it to be gone was for him to be back, for his hands to hold mine, instead of holding everything I had once held dear.

I hadn't even spoken, the only ones I had spoken to were Billy Black and Sam Uley, when they had come around with a wreath from those on the reservation, as a mark of respect for Charlie, who had let them be – unlike many other Police Chiefs near reservations.

Sam had tried to engage me, tried to convince me to turn around to his way of thinking, that the 'leeches' as he called them were a hundred percent bad, as stupid as that sounded, even to me. He had tried to get me to move along, to move away from my day dreams that Edward had made a mistake and was coming to get me. I knew he wasn't. I had no more hope for that, but dreams were all I had left. What was the point in moving on simply to move on? There was none. None of it mattered. Not when he was gone. I was fed up of trying to move, when in reality I couldn't do it. I couldn't move along and move through everything that had happened.

Everything was wrong, and although they all said I should move along, I couldn't. What was there left to live for, when he was gone? My bronze haired Adonis, the man I had been willing to give up my humanity for, was gone. He had left me, after I had saved his life. And that was one betrayal too many. I had gone to Volterra, I had found him and saved him, but I couldn't. He had left me, even though I had made such a sacrifice for him. Why? I couldn't understand.

I walked to my room again, allowing my thin fingers to graze over the light switch, turning it on. My room was empty, as usual. The only things in it were my bed, my wardrobe, my shiny new Mac Book and the rocking chair I kept as a memento. And the rough sketch I kept of him on my bed, on top of my pillow. I turned to the wardrobe and pulled out some track bottoms and a tee to sleep in. When I turned back around towards my bed, a blonde goddess was sitting there, staring up at me with such contempt I thought that I would die from a look. But she could kill me so easily, without even the slightest ounce of remorse. I knew from him that she had wanted to, after he had saved me from Tyler Crowley's van, but he had refused to allow her to.

"Rosalie, what are you doing here?" I asked her, my voice managing to sound firm to my weak human ears.

"I'm coming to tell you just how much you ruined my family," She replied, the hatred in her voice at the forefront of her tone. I had ruined her family? How?

"What do you mean?" I was unsure what she meant by 'ruined her family'. I mean, Edward was happy now, and that was the only thing that mattered. So how had I ruined it?

"You killed him Bella; you were able to be happy without him. You should have let him die in Volterra, then he wouldn't have gone back begging to die, he would have been killed for an infraction that would be it. But instead, he begged to die because his mate had taken up with one of our mortal enemies. Can your small, dull human brain possibly imagine how that must have felt to him? That he had to beg to die because his mate had decided vampires were no good for her, that she had made a mistake going to Volterra?"

Suddenly everything made sense, Alice's desperate gestures when we left him for the final time, his sad look as he surveyed my broken body. He had believed my terrible acting because it made sense, it made sense that I had moved on. But it was a sad case of crossed wires. Thanks to me, he was dead. Dead. Edward Anthony Masen Cullen was Dead. And it was all my fault.

"Rosalie, did you come here to break me? You've done that," I tried to be snide, but my sorrow leaked through my voice. Her stony face faltered for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure, and spoke.

"I came here so you can feel the same sorrow Esme has felt for the last two years, so you can feel how we have all felt since you decided to shack up with a werewolf. Bella, you were the worst thing that could ever have possibly happened to my family. You are the reason that we have lost a member, because you were human, and you said you didn't love him. And he left, because you wanted him to. He left to protect you, and you ignore him. You are despicable, and what I'm about to do isn't good enough for you."

I had moved closer to Rosalie, and saw that her usually golden eyes were black as coal. She was thirsty, and I was a human who could be used to avenge her brother's death in a way that was allowable, and could satiate her thirst. It was win win for her.

She lunged, and I hit my head off the wardrobe door. I didn't put up a fight, I knew what would happen, and I wanted to be free of the world. By doing this, I would be. My eyes were closing, and the blackness was swirling around my head. I could see Edward in the distance, and I reached out for him. He was important, so important to me.


The pain in my arm was gone, and I found myself in a brightly lit room. I surveyed it, and discovered that the walls were soft, but unbreakable at the same time. It was like the fake slime I had played with as a child, it didn't break, but could stretch and stretch.

A noise from behind me made me jump, and Edward stood there, as breathtakingly handsome as before. His hair was the coppery colour I loved, but his eyes were not the gold or black I remembered them as; they were an emerald green, the colour Carlisle had described them as when he bandaged me up after my disastrous eighteenth birthday.

"Bella?" His voice was uneven, as if he couldn't imagine why I would be here, why I would be with him here. Edward had never believed that Heaven was for him, but here he was. And wherever Edward was was where I wanted to be.

I ran, and jumped at him, putting my arms around his neck. He lifted me up, and kissed me, deeper than we had ever kissed before. He was human, I could feel it in the way his flesh was pliable, in how it moved to accommodate my body.

"Edward, Edward, oh Edward," I moaned, kissing him with all my might.

Suddenly, four people came towards us. Two of them were recognisable instantly. I saw a woman with hair the same colour as my own, with brown eyes that looked like mine. And a man, with balding hair, but what was left was the same texture as my curly-wavy hair. Mom and Charlie were here with us. The other two weren't immediately recognisable, but one – the man – had the same face as Edward, and the woman had eyes and hair the same colour as Edward. It was his parents, it had to be.

"Mom? Dad? Is it really?" Edward could barely speak as our parents came closer and closer to us. We hugged, and I felt the love that was lavished upon me by my parents be lavished upon Edward, and vice-versa.

It may have seemed odd, considering that we were dead, but I was the happiest I had been for a long time, perhaps forever. I had my mom, my dad, the love of my existence and his parents with me. And in some strange way, I almost felt indebted to Rosalie. She had made this possible, her thirst for revenge had made my happiness complete. Whilst death may be the worst thing possible, it was the best thing for me. It made me happy.