A Constant in The Darkness

Chapter Four - Was it hard to fold a hand you could win

Darlings,

All will be revealed.

Once again, I am so grateful for such awesome reviews. You guys are insightful and articulate and I love it!

So, I just love this chapter, more than the others (don't tell) because of darling n7of9 who has been persuaded to weed through my convoluted sentences, riddled with out of place commas and semicolons. Yeah, she beta'd this shit, and she's freaking amazing!

Also, amers_52, who answers all my questions of the psychological variety! Thanks bb!

And of course: I don't own it.

EPOV

I went for a run after dinner. I was still mulling over the incident with Bella that afternoon in the grocery store, and then after Alice's bizarre tarot card reading of devils and upside down emperors and fathering, I just had to clear my head. When we first moved here Carlisle suggested running as a way to relieve stress and anxiety; apparently, that helps to keep the bomb at bay. I'm glad he did because it has become my nightly ritual. I love running at night; surrounded by nothingness, porch lights streaking by in a blur, and the biting wind on my face causing my eyes to tear. With my pulse and breathing forming an even, rhythmic pace, the repetitiveness forces me into a meditative chant. Meditative or not, I don't know what I was fucking thinking tonight because guess where I ended up? Why would I come here? It's not like it was close, a good 5 miles or so, and I was going to have to run the whole way back too. But I just felt this pull to be near her, that fucking magnetism and cosmic bullshit thing again.

I stopped outside Bella Swan's house, noticing an old and faded truck in the driveway. She couldn't possibly be able to drive that thing! It probably didn't even have power steering, and it had to be a stick shift. There's no way her bony little arms would be able to handle that behemoth of a vehicle.

The small upstairs window was glowing and I wondered if she was in that room. What was she doing? What had she eaten for dinner? What color bedspread did she have? I started thinking of nonchalant ways I could casually explain my presence here. I could say I was visiting Charlie, but it was past eleven now. I would have to come earlier next time.

Next time? Fuck Edward, I thought you were going to stay away!

I thought about faking a cramp or something and then mentally punched myself in the dick for being such a girl. I guess I'd have to settle on sick pervert and scale the tree in her front yard. I ignored the absurdity of deciding that being a sick pervert was better than being a girl because I just had to see her, to somehow make sure she was okay.

I glanced around to see if anyone would be able to identify me in a line up, but her street was remarkably silent and still. I quickly scaled the large spruce in the front yard. The boughs softly touched the overhang of the roof and I lithely glided along one of the branches. I stepped softly from the limb to the roof, hoping like hell this was her room, and crouched, thankful I had worn my black sweats and hooded sweatshirt. While somewhat concealed, I probably looked like a pervy, peeping Tom stalker creep. This was so going to bite me in the ass.

I slowly crept to the window and peeked inside. It was a small room with little furniture, and I noticed the lamp on the nightstand was still lit. A small suitcase was thrown open on the floor in the corner next to a wooden rocking chair, clothing haphazardly tossed astray. Looking around I saw a pile of books, paperbacks as wells as notebooks, a backpack, a laptop and a large tote. My eyes scanned involuntarily to the small, full-sized bed.

And there she was. She lay slightly on her side, her legs tangled in cotton sheets, a purple comforter kicked to the floor. Her earphones were still in her ears and I yearned to go see what she was listening to. Her wet hair was swirling out around her, sticking to her face, neck and shoulders in loops and curves. It seemed an endless flow of darkness sharply contrasted with her translucent skin. Her berry lips were slightly parted I noticed, and her white teeth were peeking from beneath their fullness. The bend of her tiny wrist was curled to her face with the back of her hand resting against her cheek, her other arm raised over her head. My eyes traveled the length of her small body. She looked so fragile, so breakable, a tiny china doll. Utterly beautiful.

Her tantalizing neck flowed rather nicely into an expanse of remarkable shoulder blades and collarbones, her milky skin stretched, the indentations perfect for delicate kisses. She was wearing a blue tank top under an old flannel shirt and my eyes lingered on her dainty breasts, her chest heaving as her breath moved in a deep fluid cadence. I could practically count her ribs through the thin material as I ran my eyes just above the low waistband of her sweatpants, her prominent hipbones and the hollow of her lower stomach exposed. I hissed at the sight of that skin. I burned for her. I burned for her and felt disgusted with myself, disgusted for intruding on her like this and then envisioning her like that, imagining myself entering her room, crawling into her bed, my fingers folding around her exposed hips, pulling them into mine.

I am so fucking sick. I'm definitely going to hell for this.

Bella started to move, turned her head a bit and rolled onto her back completely. Her lips were moving now and it looked like she was saying something. Shit, she's a sleep talker! I had to know what she was dreaming about. It was so wrong and intrusive but I couldn't stop myself from trying to open that window. I was now not only a sick, pervy, peeping Tom stalker creep; I was breaking and entering as well. As long as I'm going to hell…

I pushed the window open and it creaked slightly. I stopped, waiting for any indication that she'd heard, but she was still. I continued to push the window up all the way, stopping about 5 times, scared shitless she was going to wake up. I climbed down and sat on the window sill.

This is so wrong, so wrong! My inner monologue was screaming at me but I didn't care, because Bella was talking again.

She was uttering small bits of rambling information: green, drowning, can't breathe, honey, delicious, and then I heard it, clearly and without a doubt…

"Edward, stay."

In that moment I became hers. Always. I couldn't even fathom leaving that room let alone forcing myself to stay away from her any longer. She had just uttered my fucking name in her sleep. She told me to stay and I would stay. I would do whatever the hell she wanted me to. I wanted her, wanted her more than I wanted to believe that I could be normal, wanted her more than I wished I wasn't a ticking bomb. Actually, in that moment, I didn't give a shit about the bomb. I just wanted to reach out and brush her hair from her face and taste her berry lips. I wanted to hold her hand and bring her flowers. I wanted to cook for her, see her enjoy something I created, to nourish and comfort her.

It seemed so ridiculously barbaric, but in that moment I wanted to claim her. Her, she, mine! Oh my God, I am such an asshole.

Okay, I needed to get it together. I obviously could never let Bella find out about any of this, the peeping or the claiming, but I couldn't stay away from her either. I needed a plan.

I climbed back out of her window, closing it as silently as possible and jumped from the roof. I practically hit the ground running. I had a long 5 miles ahead of me and I had to figure out how I was going to get Bella Swan to fall in love with me.

…

The next day I drove Alice to school in my Volvo. Emmett always drove separately from us because he had wrestling practice after school. I pulled into the parking lot and parked quickly. My muscles were aching from last night's excursion and I was exhausted from the lack of sleep. I needed to find out Bella's schedule, maybe casually appear where she was. I was still high from hearing her voice my name, the euphoria masking the defense mechanisms I had put in place ages ago. I was proceeding with plan Make Bella Mine.

As Alice got out of the car I noticed that god-awful red truck parked behind me. I wasn't ready for this. I froze. "Go ahead Alice, I need a sec." She glanced at me strangely, then shut the door and left for class. I felt like I was going to be sick. I had only felt this way one other time in my entire life. In the fifth grade I had a massive crush on Tanya Denali. She was a picture of strawberry blond ten-year-old perfection, all pigtails and freckles. Every time I would see her on the playground at lunch, I would get sick to my stomach and go to the school nurse who would take my temperature and send me straight back out to recess. Eventually, my mother blamed it on lactose intolerance and ever since then there's a little note in my academic file that claims I'm allergic to milk.

I was watching Bella through my rear view mirror. Why wasn't she getting out of her car? We were both going to be late to class. Luckily I had U.S. History first thing and I could probably teach that class. Finally, seconds before the bell rang, like a breath of fresh air she left the truck and I was free to leave as well, keeping a good distance behind her while watching her long braid swish across the top of her lovely behind. It was quite an exquisite sight to behold and not a bad way to start the day either.

…

As the lunchroom was starting to fill the anticipation was literally making me sick. Should I talk to her? Um, hi, remember me, we crashed in the grocery store, followed by bad jokes and then I acted like a dick? Oh and by the way, I'm kind of stalking you, and I want to touch you, and I might love you…

No, I would most definitely not be talking to Bella today.

Emmett was sitting across from me, Rosalie situated on his lap as usual. He kicked my shin, "Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you? You look green."

"Lactose intolerance," I responded. Alice, who was sitting cross-legged on the table, looked at me sharply. She knows about the whole Tanya thing and in conjunction with her revealing reading last night, she knew something was up. I gave her an apologetic look, feeling like shit that I couldn't tell her about this. We normally didn't have any secrets. Alice always gets people to spill, she's just gifted that way.

Bella still hadn't entered the lunchroom and I started to panic at the thought that she might be hurt or sick or something. Maybe I should check the nurse's office to make sure she hadn't crashed into anyone else lately. This made me think of the grocery store, and her bed, and her berry lips, and her fragrance, and her warm, melting eyes…

I kept scanning the lunchroom for a glimpse of her. I checked Newton's table, very carefully avoiding the contemptuous yet greedy gazes from Jessica and Lauren.

Rosalie was leafing through some gossip magazine. "So, are we going to Newton's party on Friday?"

"Hell yeah, I seriously need to get fucked up," Emmett replied, nodding his head. Like he hadn't been "fucked up" barely three days ago.

Alice groaned, remembering. Drunk Emmett is not safe for anybody, the alcohol unleashing the need to prove that he could pin anyone in five seconds flat. Emmett has issues with personal space.

"What? I won't wrestle anyone this time, I promise." Emmett was smirking now, his fingers surely crossed.

"Are you going to go, Edward?" Alice was asking me, but she already knew the answer.

"No fucking way. I can't stand Newton." I replied.

"You don't actually have to hang out with him. It's a party, there will be tons of people there. Ah, c'mon, cuz, I'll keep you safe from Stanley and that hoover mouth of hers," Emmett teased.

"You're an asshole Emmett," I muttered.

"Yeah, I know." He practically inhaled a slice of pizza, hardly even chewing before chugging a whole pint of milk. I shuddered.

"C'mon babe, lets go make out in my car for a while." Emmett smacked the side of Rosalie's ass, urging her to get up off his lap. This was another reason Emmett drove his own car. I refused to let him do that in my Volvo.

They walked out of the lunch room and I was left with my annoyingly perceptive sister and my own frantic desire to find Bella and make sure she was whole. Where was she? Didn't she need to eat?

Alice reached into her bag and pulled out her cards. I eyed her warily and tried to send her the no-fucking-way message. "What? I'm just seasoning them. You're supposed to keep the cards acclimated to your touch."

I snorted, "Okay," I replied, a little too condescendingly.

"You know, you don't have to be mean about it," she was pouting now, "and it's not nice to keep secrets." She glanced up, trying to work her charm on me.

But then her gaze caught something else across the room and she looked back down quickly at the cards in her hands. I looked behind me but didn't see anything unusual. I shrugged it off. Whatever Alice had noticed was gone now.

"Um, I forgot, I have to go to class early. I failed my Algebra test and Mr. Varner said I could retake it if I saw him during lunch. Are you okay?" Alice asked me warily. I frowned. Alice had never failed anything in her life. She must be stressed or something. I should stop giving her such a hard time.

"I'm fine, good actually. I'll probably just go sit in my car, listen to music or something." I would conveniently walk by the nurse's office on the way to said car, checking for any injured Bellas.

"Okay, see ya." She grabbed her bag, shoving the cards inside and left the room swiftly.

I walked straight to the nurse's office and stood outside the door, waiting for it to open so I could peek inside. I had to wait about ten minutes but finally the door opened and Mrs. Hammond, the school nurse, walked out.

"Oh! Goodness, Edward. Did you need something?" she asked, her fingers playing with the neckline of her blouse.

Shit. "Um, could I have a Band-Aid?" The things I would do for Bella Swan.

"Sure, of course." As she walked back into the room I grabbed the door and glanced inside. No Bella. Now I just felt like a moron. "Let me see, ah…here you go." She handed me the Band-Aid and I quickly spun around and left.

I felt like a lost puppy. I had no bearings, no distractions to force my mind away from Bella, so I just went to my car and spent the rest of the lunch hour engulfed in violent lyrics and angry drum beats. I just didn't know what else to do.

When the bell finally rang signaling the end of lunch I hurried to Advanced Bio, still none the wiser as to Bella's whereabouts. This class was a cake walk and no one ever sat by me, so I didn't have to engage in superfluous and meaningless conversation, and without the music to distract me, I had a full hour of Bella's lips to fuss over in my mind. I sat down at my table, opened my notebook and stared at the whiteboard, willing the images to assault me.

And then I smelled her, lavender and cream, sweet and intoxicating. Bella had come in the back door and brushed by me as she walked up the center aisle. I wanted to snag her and bring her closer, but I thought that might be too presumptuous at this early stage, so I opted to shamelessly stare instead. My head immediately fogged up as I watched her shuffle up to Mr. Banner, slightly catching the toe of one of her sneakers on the leg of a lab table towards the front of the classroom. I smiled, remembering the grocery store. Maybe I could strategically place myself in her trajectory and catch an opportunity to touch her again.

I watched as Bella engaged Mr. Banner in conversation. She shifted uncomfortably, moving her bag from one shoulder to the other, her long braid swaying, but then as she turned her face fell. Realization dawned on me as she moved towards my table. She recognized me and she was not happy about it. She looked upset, her eyes on the floor, because she had to sit next to me. The look on her face almost shook my resolve and nearly obliterated my plan, but then I remembered the fact that she had whispered my name in her sleep. Maybe I should plead my case to her subconscious. Frankly, I didn't care about any of it anymore. I was being selfish now and I would not fail.

Bella still wouldn't look at me. She set her bag on the table and finally sat down next to me. She was so close now, the aroma unforgivable. I was dying to press my nose into the base of her jaw just below her ear and trail kisses down her neck to her shoulder blade. Her hair was pulled back exposing her porcelain skin, and it was torture. I couldn't stop myself from staring at her neck, wisps of dark hair decorating her nape. I was going to explode if I didn't get this out.

"Bella…" I began.

I was going to say more, but in that instant she turned to face me. Fuck, she's beautiful! I couldn't read her, so many emotions thick behind her lashes, that I forgot what I was going to say.

At that moment Mr. Banner called the class to attention and I used the excuse to break from her gaze.

I half-assed listened to the lecture, preferring to watch Bella take notes instead, absorbing her mannerisms. She recorded minimally, opting to form little stars and circles in the margins of her notebook instead. Her pen traced the outlines of her letters, darkening them until they were barely legible. She chewed the inside of her lip and I was envious, longing to taste that lip myself. I noticed her fidgeting and pulling her ear when she lost interest in the lecture. I wanted to know what she was thinking about during these phases, when her pen would stop and her eyes would glaze over, staring past this room. I couldn't keep my eyes off of her, fascinated by every minute movement she made.

When Mr. Banner assigned the book work, she immediately began scribbling the responses, skimming the chapter for answers that she didn't know from memory. I had to say something; I couldn't take the silence any longer.

"Hey! What did you get for number six?" I nudged Bella's elbow with my pencil eraser. I didn't know if I could handle touching her yet without it turning into something creepy, this just seemed safer.

"It's on page 278," she responded without so much as a glance at me.

"Oh. Um…thanks." Shit, she's blowing me off. Take a fucking hint Edward, she's not interested asshole!

Bella went back to work. I quickly jotted down the answers, taking maybe five minutes to finish the assignment. What the fuck was I going to do for the next thirty-five minutes? It was unbearable being this close to her but not being able to speak, with nothing to distract me. So I watched her again. She worked conscientiously, rereading her responses and changing her wording. I glanced at her paper, checking her answers. They were mostly right, except for number six. I smiled at the irony.

Suddenly Bella was looking at me, irritation pouring from her now. She was so fucking adorable when she was angry, I almost missed what she said.

"Do you need some help or something?" she snapped quietly, leaning towards me.

I smirked. Yep, adorable.

"Um, no I'm finished." I smiled fully at her now, because I knew that what I was going to say next was going to piss her off, but I couldn't stop myself. I loved the interaction, even in the negative connotation, because it was something. I leaned in further towards her now, "You might want to check number six, though. I think you have the wrong answer."

She blushed, crimson creeping up her neck and ears, blending into her hair, and it took my breath away. "Were you cheating off my paper?" She asked, exasperated.

I snorted, as if I needed to cheat. "Well, I hope not. My uncle will kick my ass if I blow my 4.0." I was so close to her face I could smell the peppermint on her breath. It was wrong, I know, to insult her intelligence. She must be incredibly bright, obvious in the ease at which she had completed the assignment and the care she took to perfect her answers. But that fifth grader inside of me had taken over, cooties and teasing, insults masking adoration, trying desperately to illicit some kind of response from her.

Apparently, I had gone too far. She turned to face me, "What, do you have like, multiple personality disorder or something? You're kind of acting like a schizo," poison spewing from her lips.

Maybe. Probably. Most likely, yes.

What am I doing?Her accusation brought me back to reality, dissipating that initial euphoria and ever taunting hope. Of course I'm acting like a schizo! I should have known it all along, known that I couldn't do this, couldn't hold someone close to me. I had stupidly let the hope swell, invading my cognition and filling my head with delusions.

And then, I wanted it to happen. I wanted the bomb to just fucking explode, to shatter my awareness into a billion pieces, and replace it with paranoia, hallucinations, apathy and all the other fucked up symptoms of psychosis that were no doubt waiting for me. It had shattered my father, causing him to destroy everything around him, like a fucking atomic bomb. The same bomb which was now residing within me, and I was yearning for it to break free.

I had to leave, get away from Bella before I could destroy her. My body acted on its own volition now. I felt my face smooth over into a cool mask. I saw my hands reaching for my notebook. I watched my legs carry me out of the classroom. I knew my entire being would protect Bella Swan, which is why it did not look at her as it walked out of that room and out of her life.

I let it all come back to me, because I wanted to drown myself in this now. Get it over with and let it happen. I was surrendering, raising my white flag. Within twenty-four hours my hope was shattered, the delusion I let myself believe now gone.

I thought of Chicago, of my father locking me in my room, holes in the drywall he never repaired. I thought of my mother cradling him, smoothing his hair and weeping with him after he eventually felt the tide of remorse.

I thought of Alice, locking herself in the bathroom and spending the night in the tub or sneaking into my room and squishing into my small bed.

I thought of our last day there, a knife wound in my mother's chest, a small trail of blood on her lips. I thought a stab wound would have produced more blood, but apparently there was internal bleeding in her lungs and she asphyxiated. I thought of my father's self inflicted gunshot wound, a pinhole in one temple, the exit wound gaping, his head slumped over, blood spilling onto his latest deposition.

My father had been fooling people with his brilliance and his beauty since he was a teenager. A genius of a human being, he just seemed eccentric, his exchanges riddled with idiosyncrasies. His high intelligence, photographic memory, and highly obsessive behavior earned him a degree in law. His beauty and vulnerability earned him a wife, my mother. As a lawyer in Chicago, he was successful and revered; his quirkiness earned him a sense of likability and awe with the jury. His handsome features clouded his true nature, attracting women who wanted to fuck him and men who wanted to channel him. People just didn't want to believe that someone so brilliant, so beautiful, could be so flawed and so entirely fucked up.

My mother didn't want to believe it, even though she was there when the doctors had made the diagnosis. And now she was dead.

Within a week we were living with Carlisle and Esme. Carlisle explained to us that my father, his brother, had been diagnosed with schizophrenia when he was seventeen. He was medicated and received cognitive behavior therapy, which had been effective in masking some of the symptoms. Carlisle had left Chicago when my father started refusing treatment. My father was convinced that he was better; he had a phenomenal job and a beautiful, loving wife. He thought he was cured. He was okay most of time. However, his frequent recreational marijuana use triggered the symptoms of the psychosis, heightening the paranoia.

How could I not know this about my own father? It could have been Alice with that wound in her chest. Of course, I wanted to know more about the disease that had quite effectively destroyed my life, killed my mother and left Alice and me possibly irreparably damaged for the rest of our lives, so I researched it.

Most of the shit I read said the same thing that Carlisle had told us, it's a neurological disorder; symptoms include hallucinations, paranoia, flat affect, disorganized thoughts, and delusions. The symptoms could be amplified by marijuana, his drug of choice, but mostly drug use was an effect of the disease. And then I read the genetic implications. Fucking genetics. Some studies showed that the genetic implications were varied, but twin studies suggested a high level of hereditability. I was sure I would be just like him. And my mother knew, "You have his eyes, you know. You're just like your father." A fucking genetic ticking time bomb.

I have been waiting for it to happen ever since. When Alice and I first moved here, I went through what Carlisle referred to as 'a destructive phase'. I had just found out about my father's mental illness and had gone a little crazy myself, trying to manifest the disease, trying to bring forward the inevitable. I would do crazy things trying to elicit a neurological response, pushing myself to extremes. Cliff diving, mountain biking, storm surfing, rock climbing, stuff that seemed completely normal but that I was completely reckless with. Then, of course, there were the more traditional methods of self-destruction: drugs and alcohol, fighting, fasting and sleep deprivation. Carlisle said it was grief and I was given anti-depressants and cooking classes, but I really just wanted to be committed so I couldn't hurt anyone like my father had. If he could kill my mother, no one would be safe from me, because I didn't love anything as much as he loved her.

And now I might.

And I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I ever hurt Bella.

And I was desperate to feel that explosion now. I was begging for the bomb to explode, just fucking begging for it as I ran, sobbing, to find that release. I knew what I had to do, I knew a way to make this all go away.

I went to see the Italians.

It was a journey I had taken often, back during the days of my 'destructive phase'. They were dicks, total fucking assholes, the kind of guys that like to prove their self worth by destroying someone else's. They hung out behind the gym, smoking pot and drinking beer and just kicking the shit out of kids that didn't belong there. Nobody fucked with them though, and you definitely didn't venture into their area of the school without expecting a fight. Back when I was fighting, I found release in the battle, the flailing of fists connecting with tissue, swelling, splitting, bleeding. I could even take one or two of them. I'm kind of skinny, but freakishly strong, years of running contributing to my increased stamina. They expected little of me and because of this they were ill prepared. It would be different today, though. I wasn't going to fight back this time.

I saw them standing against the brick wall of the gym. Two big, greasy motherfuckers. One, Demitri I think his name is, was smoking a joint, running his hand through his dark hair. The bigger one, Felix, was grabbing his dick and air humping the wall, probably degrading some girl he claimed to have fucked in this disturbing montage, an interpretive dance, if you will. Like I said, total fucking assholes.

They saw me approaching and quickly readied their positions, Demitri snuffing out the joint and pocketing the roach. Cheap ass bastard.

"What the fuck, Cullen. We haven't seen your pretty face around here lately." Demitri approached me first.

I didn't say anything. My face was tear-stained and sweaty from running, my hair falling in my eyes. I just wanted to get it over with.

Felix decided it was his turn to goad. "Are you crying, bitch?" He walked right up to my face. "Holy fuck, you little bitch." He shoved me hard. "I don't know if I can hit a girl."

"What's the matter, Cullen? Missing your mommy?" Demitri was closing in, stalking me like a predator, preying on the weak. It wouldn't be long now.

"Just fucking do it asshole." I decided they were talking too much. I was going to lose my nerve.

They just stood there, looking at each other. Why wouldn't one of them hit me already?

I was going to have to take matters into my own hands. I put on my best antagonistic sneer. "Didn't you hear me, pussy. Fucking do it. Hit me, you goddamn fucking bitch."

Felix stood gaping, "What did you fucking say?"

"I said I fucked your mother." That did it.

A fist collided with my jaw, my lip splitting. I fell to my right, spinning and scraping my face against the brick wall. I coughed, spitting blood, the coppery fluid running down my chin. I rested my forehead against the bricks, pushing away with my hands.

I turned around to face them. I guess Felix was the one that had punched me, he was anticipating my retaliation. I just stood there, a smirk playing on my lips.

"Again." I spat blood, aiming for Felix's shoes.

"You fucking bitch." Felix hit me in the face again, this time right below the eye, a vicious right hook sending me to the ground.

"Fuck!" I gasped. That one hurt. I was going to have a black eye. Now on my hands and knees, I touched my face where his fist had landed and noticed the red smeared on my fingertips. Why wasn't it happening? Why hadn't I snapped? I still just felt hopeless and pathetic and now my face hurt too.

I stood up slowly, staggering and wiping the blood from the wound under my eye, the flesh stinging where I had touched it. There was quite a bit of blood now, my eye already swelling, impeding my vision. But it wasn't enough.

"What's wrong boys, gone soft on me?" I just wanted it to be over and I needed more. "Is that all you got, you limp dick bastards?"

They both charged at me now. Demitri shoved me into the brick wall, knocking the wind out of me. As I struggled to catch my breath, Felix's fist collided with my face again and again. My nose was crushed, my head whipping backward and smacking into the wall. My cheekbone was next, the sickening sound of skin splitting further, widening the already gaping wound. My jaw now, sending a stream of blood down my throat. Even my fucking ear, they were all throbbing and pulsating. I was beginning to get woozy, losing my balance and using the wall for support. It still hadn't fucking happened yet. No bomb. No explosions.

Felix, sensing I was close to unconsciousness, sent one last punch to my gut, sending me keeling to the ground, gasping and spitting blood, the taste oddly comforting. It would be over soon. Demitri sent a carefully aimed kick to my ribs, and I collapsed on the gravel, groaning and bleeding all over the fucking place. Fuck there was a lot of blood coming from my face.

Demitri started to leave, jogging away, looking around to see if anyone had seen the altercation. Felix spat down at me, "You are one fucked up motherfucker, Cullen." He wiped his mouth and followed his friend, laughing.

I just lay there on the ground, panting and trying to breathe, pain shooting through my side with each inhale. I had gone too far, yet apparently not far enough. My face probably looked like ground beef. I could only see out of one eye now, the other one completely swollen shut. I rolled over onto my back, my breath slowing, trying to remain conscious. I had to get to the car; Carlisle would kill me if I got suspended again. I tried to assess my injuries. The wound under my eye would probably need stitches. My nose was bleeding, but didn't feel broken. I was pretty sure I had a couple of broken ribs and my lip was split pretty bad, but I didn't think that would need stitches. I struggled to sit up, one side of my body feeling pulverized, and I painfully took off my jacket and shirt. They were covered in splattered blood. I bunched the shirt up and pressed it to my cheek and nose, trying to stop the bleeding.

I gingerly put my jacket back on, over my undershirt, and walked to the Volvo. There was no way I was going to be able to drive. I sat in the passenger seat, waiting for school to end so I could go home and Carlisle could stitch up my face. Finally, about five minutes after the bell rang, I saw Alice walking up to the car, confusion on her face as she noticed me sitting in the passenger seat.

She opened the driver side door and climbed in. "Edward, what the hell is going on?"

Then she looked over at me. "Fuck! We have to get you to Carlisle." She turned the key, which I had placed in the ignition and without waiting for my response, peeled out of the parking lot and sped towards home.
...

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A/N

I'd just like to clarify that my knowledge of Schizophrenia is extremely limited. I have some first hand experience with the disease and the rest is research, so if I misinterpret, I apologize.

Also, I love Italians. I am Italian, as you may have guessed by the running theme in Edward's cooking choices. Well, that and it's really the only kind of food I know how to make. They are Italians because it coincides with canon. I'm all about the Italian pride bb's!

I'm sorry, dear Edward, but you knew it was coming. You know how many times I've seen Fight Club. Now, lay down while I clean you up...

Also, reviews help Edward heal faster!