A Constant in The Darkness

Chapter Twenty-Seven - I Want to Free Him

Darlings,

Once again, I love you all. I want to take you all out for drinks and quite possible disrupt a nice establishment with noisy, ranting discussion.

Once again, Mina Cullen verified all things medical. You're a doll, my love!

I'd like to thank Completed Irony for bringing it to my attention that abbreviations aren't ALWAYS acronyms for fics…Terrible Lower Colonitis and The Lonely Cunt are NOT real fics, girls and boys. I laugh at myself.

n7of9 is my partner in world domination. She also has excellent beta skills.

Disclaimer: I don't own it.

...

EPOV

The emergency room hummed with activity: an empty gurney rolled past with wheels clacking against the linoleum, a page for a doctor over the PA system, some kid sitting across from me whimpering as his exasperated and impatient mother tried to comfort him. My leg twitched repeatedly, the uncontrollable movement causing my hands to shake as I folded and unfolded them between my knees.

Esme ran her fingers through my hair and kissed the top of my head before sitting next to me in the hospital waiting area where the sun was just beginning to stream between the blinds and scattering the prismatic luminance through the dreary room.

Alice sat on the floor across from me, her cards and notebook laid across the carpet as she quietly looped her scrawl across the page. She wiped at her face, her eyes red and puffy with tears which had been steadily slipping down her cheeks since we had arrived at the hospital nearly three hours ago.

The horror once again pummeled through my chest as I tried to force the earlier images from my brain: red swirling through her dark hair, her pale skin stretched across the bones of her ribcage, the sound of the water smattering against the plastic draped over her frail and barely conscious body, the wail of Rosalie screeching my name. My breath struggled to escape as I gripped my knees tighter.

"She's okay now, Edward, you can relax," Alice murmured as my gaze pierced her familiar eyes. New images flashed through my brain: a bed holding my Bella, her arms riddled with needles, tubes stretched across her face. She had been pretty incoherent and in and out of consciousness when Rose found her heaped on the shower floor, the cold water berating her body. It looked as though she had passed out, clutching the shower curtain and pulling it down with her when she fell. And there was blood, so much fucking blood.

"What fucking part of this is okay, Alice?" I spat.

"Edward, stop." Esme placed her hand on my arm and I let the contact dispel the panic-induced rage now swelling within me. I sighed and cradled my head in my hands, my fingers pulling at my hair, and I found relief in the pain now tingling through my scalp. I needed more, I deserved more, I wanted to suffer for what I had done.

"Okay, the nurse said her doctor will be here in a minute and I don't think she really wants to see my face at that window again." Rosalie resumed her seat in the chair across from me.

We still didn't really know what the fuck was going on. When Rose and I had brought Bella in, they had said they wanted her vitals to stabilize before they could do any real diagnosis, and then they had rolled Bella into the emergency room and left us waiting in the fucking waiting area for the past three hours.

It was Rosalie who suggested it may have been a miscarriage. She had seen the bathroom, the toilet and the shower. She had noticed exactly where the bleeding was coming from and had quickly thrown down towels on the seats of my car before we left. With all the books about pregnancy and babies she had been reading, she recognized the symptoms immediately. All I could think of was that I had done this to Bella, I had put her here, I had hurt her, and my darkest fears had been realized. My stomach churned at the very thought of it, of what I was capable of.

Even if it was a miscarriage, we still didn't know why Bella had passed out, we didn't know why the bleeding was so profuse. I mean, Rosalie had said that chicks have miscarriages and don't even know it's happening, so why would it effect Bella so drastically? Of course, it could be something different all together, but we didn't fucking know because the fucking doctor hadn't come out to talk to us since we had fucking gotten here.

Please be okay, Bella. Please. Please, please be okay.

My internal plea was interrupted by a doctor approaching us, her chin-length silvery blond hair floating like liquid as she moved.

"Hello, I'm Doctor Irina, I've been taking care of Bella. I understand you are Dr. Cullen's family?" the woman asked, her voice calm and fixed as she addressed us.

"Yes, I'm Esme Cullen, Carlisle's wife, and this is my family." Esme motioned to us as she stood to shake the doctor's hand.

"Pleased to meet you," the doctor said tersely as she investigated her charts. She studied the graph etched across the paper, glancing at the folder in her hands.

She brushed the hair from her face, tilting her head to one side before giving me a small smile. "Bella's vitals are stabilizing. She's in a room, but she needs to be monitored closely. We will notify you if she wakes up and is coherent, asking questions, holding a conversation, that sort of thing."

"Is she going to be okay? What happened?" I asked, unwilling to wait any longer. The doctor stared at me with calculating eyes as we all waited for an answer. I was hoping she would share some of the information she carefully noted in her file, yet I was fully aware that not one of us was entitled to it. I kept thinking that if everything was okay she would tell us, they only ever keep the bad news a secret, right?

"I understand you're concerned. I also understand her mother lives in Florida and she has no other living relatives. Is this correct?" I nodded, defeated.

"The information is confidential and I really must discuss this with her first. Please understand, it's out of my hands." She turned to leave and I tried to swallow, my tongue thick with disappointment.

"Look lady, we've been sitting here for three hours and not one fucking person has told us anything. Can't you tell us something? Anything?" Rosalie stood up, her round belly making her seem so much more…demanding than normal, if that were even possible.

Dr. Irina eyed Rosalie, carefully. "I understand you're upset, but the law is the law. We'll notify you when she wakes up."

I nodded and thanked her for the information as she turned to walk out of the room, and then I realized she hadn't fucking told us anything at all.

"Well, she was useless as all shit," Rosalie muttered as she plopped back down next to Esme.

"Language, honey," Esme said, her hands twisting in her lap. Rosalie reached over to take Esme's hand in hers, trying to calm both of them. Alice just went back to reading her cards, her eyes blurring over as her shaky hands gently lay the cards before pewter and turquoise-ringed fingers gathered them up, shuffling and laying the spread again.

The morning passed and Bella slept. Carlisle came to check on us with coffee and sandwiches from the cafeteria. Esme called the school to inform them of the situation and to excuse Alice, Bella and I from class. Jasper stopped by on his lunch break and Emmett had called half a dozen times to see if there was any news. And still she slept.

I just went numb. It was the only way I could stop myself from using physical violence to get to Bella. She was on the other side of those doors, just two fucking doors standing in my way, and I spent my time fantasizing about all the things they might do to me if I tried to break through them. Would they arrest me? Beat me to the ground? Most likely just call the middle-aged useless paunchy security guard who I had seen nursing a mocha latte as we had walked in. Maybe he has a taser, or pepper spray. I bet that shit hurts.

Finally, after fucking hours, a nurse came to escort us to Bella's room. She led us through the doors and down a long stretch of pristine corridor before we reached Bella's room. My family waited in the hall, giving me the opportunity to speak with her first. That is, if she'd even speak with me after what I'd done.

Bella was seated in the bed with her knees pulled to her chest, and at first she just looked very small in the large hospital bed. Then I saw the tubes running oxygen to her nose, the I.V. stuck in her hand, heart monitors, wires, all kinds of fucking devices tethering her to the bed. I initially just wanted to rip all that fucking shit from her body and carry her to a place where I could take care of her, where I could make her better.

But I couldn't make Bella better. All I could ever do was destroy. Ruin and destroy everything I had, everything worth living for. I had fucking ruined it all. Relief and a weak smile danced across her face when she saw me, and then her face darkened.

"Don't. Edward, I know what you are doing right now in your head and don't you dare fucking do it." She spoke fiercely, trying to sit up more, to be more forceful. I had to smile at this because she knew, like she had seen it in my head, she knew what I was thinking. I didn't want to upset her so I gently sat on the edge of her bed and took her hand in mine. I listened to the steady beep of the heart monitor as the numbers fluctuated on the screen, the machine reassuring me of the pulse within Bella's body, the blood pumping through her veins and heart, her organs working to sustain the life before me. I felt the sob building in my chest and wiped the wetness from my eyes.

"Hey," she whispered, pulling me to her. "Hey, it's okay. We're too young, anyway. We can't have a baby, that's crazy. It's really okay." I let myself sink into the bed beside her, carefully avoiding the many tubes and wires, as she kissed my forehead, her fingers running through my hair, the tears slipping from my eyes as she tried to soothe me. She was comforting me. She had just come out of a traumatic as shit experience and she was reassuring me, doting on me, making sure that I was okay.

Fuck. Fuck! Fucking fuck. I am a complete asshole, utterly repulsive for what I had done to her. Shit! It's like everything I come into contact with gets destroyed, like a fucking atomic bomb, resonating and slowly poisoning everything within a five mile radius. What the fuck was I thinking? Why didn't I insist we use something? I should have known better. I couldn't breathe with the agony of every aspect of this fucked-up situation ripping me to shreds.

It's true, we are too young for babies. We have plans, plans a baby doesn't fit into, and I couldn't see myself as a parent, not now. And to be honest, I didn't know how I felt about passing on my fucked-up genetic material and cursing another life, a child faced with the same fears and possibilities for its future. I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy, let alone a child.

My child.

Bella's child.

Our child.

Bella made all the difference. The thought of a family with her, little brown eyed beauties just like their mother, was the only ounce of conflicting remorse I held. Maybe there was enough good in Bella to override my disastrous DNA. Maybe it was like eye color, the dominant gene prevails. Fuck, I hoped that Bella's kind heart and soul were a dominant trait. One day, I could hope for that. One day, but not now.

"Bella. It's not…that. I'm just so glad you're okay," I mumbled into her skin. She smelled different, sterile, plastic, stale, that chemical hospital smell. Not like Bella.

"Esme, Rose and Alice are waiting outside," I said. "Are you up for company?"

Bella nodded, a sad smile on her lips, wiping her face with the back of her hand.

Reluctantly, I left the bed to let the others in. They followed me into the small room, the space shrinking with the additional bodies.

Alice didn't hesitate; she climbed into the bed with Bella and wrapped her arms around her friend, her tears streaming profusely down her cheeks.

"Alice? What's the matter with you? It's okay. I'm fine," Bella sniveled unconvincingly, her own tears spilling from her lids. Rosalie sat on the edge of the bed as Esme stood beside her, her fingers dabbing at the corners of her own eyes.

Alice just shook her head while I forced myself to remain in control. I had to keep it together and let them have this moment of relief, and ignore all the shit I had simmering within me, all the fears, all the implications of what exactly all this meant. I pushed it away and just let myself feel relived. Even if it was just for this one moment, I felt relieved.

"So, what did they say?" Rosalie cut right to it, not one for sparring feelings. I was totally appreciating her zero tolerance for bullshit in this moment because while I was desperate to know what had happened, I would have waited until Bella was ready to talk about it. Rose doesn't really give a fuck, if she wants to know, she'll ask.

Bella blinked a few times and took a deep breath before she spoke, her voice shaking with apprehension.

"Um…they told me I am anemic and um…I guess dehydrated and...well, they put me on this glucose drip that has all kinds of vitamins and shit in it to help with that. And um…I got pregnant. The doctor said it was like a fluke because of my abnormal periods and the anemia and the fact that my reproductive organs have all gone to shit. She was really surprised that it actually stuck. But my body couldn't sustain the pregnancy and I hemorrhaged…because of the anemia and…stuff." I could tell Bella was having a hard time talking about this. She paused often, her eyes fixated on her hands as she picked at the tape holding the I.V. in place. I couldn't really tell how she felt about all of this. I mean, she said she was fine, but the tone of her voice was anything but fine, and her red, swollen eyes were anything but fine.

"Oh, honey!" Esme pulled a tissue from her purse and wiped her nose and eyes as she took a seat in one of the chairs. Rosalie's hands folded around her belly, her eyes squinting as she tilted her head in contemplation.

I sat next to Esme, her hand reaching out for mine, again comforting me, her eyes apologetic as she dabbed at them with her tissue. I didn't deserve it. I didn't deserve to be comforted, not while Bella was strapped to that bed with needles in her arms and tubes bringing her nutrients as she tried to appease our worried minds. Bella was far from comfortable and I deserved to suffer alongside her.

"It's okay," Bella said, "I'm not sad about it. I mean, I didn't even know I was…pregnant. It was just blood, you know." She was trying to reassure us all but her eyes focused mainly on mine. "It's not like I lost…it, or whatever, because I never even knew it was there. Does that make sense?"

The girls nodded, and it did make sense, but I couldn't help the twinge of disappointment from burdening my mind already thick with self-disgust. Images floated through my mind, images of Bella's belly round with life, my life, our child blooming within her, our family gathered in this room under very different circumstances.

But, in reality, it could have killed her. If Rose hadn't woken to use the bathroom when she did, it could have been too late. Now Bella lay covered in starched white sheets and in a hospital gown, pale and thin, literally drained of life, weak and resigned.

"And that's all they said?" Rosalie pressed, her voice colored with skepticism.

"They're going to keep me here overnight. Maybe longer, for tests and things," Bella responded, her hands again fidgeting with the I.V., picking at the tape and lightly pressing on the puncture wound causing her to slightly wince in pain.

"Tests for what? What do they need to test for?" Alice asked, sitting up next to Bella.

Bella shrugged. "Damage, I guess. Um…they said I was underweight so they're worried about the long term effects of that, so…" Bella trailed off, her fingers still playing with the damn I.V.. I wanted to grab her hand and hold it so she would stop picking at that fucking thing. Instead, my leg began to twitch, bouncing up and down quickly as Esme glanced over at me in concern. I just shook my head, indicating I was fine.

But nothing was fine. Damage, long term effects, tests, underweight, fuck! This could be bad. This could be really fucking bad. I wasn't going to leave this fucking room unless Bella was with me, until we knew what the hell we had to do to fix this.

I had failed. I had promised Bella I would fix this, that I would help her. I had promised to keep her safe. I had promised that I would never hurt her - and I had failed miserably.

A nurse then entered the room to take Bella's temperature and check her blood pressure. She also checked her I.V. to make sure the drip was okay, I guess, and asked Bella if she needed anything. Bella shook her head and the nurse injected the I.V. with an antibiotic and some other things that I didn't recognize the names of, all the while Bella hid her eyes from us.

"Do you need to use the restroom?" the nurse asked Bella, and she shook her head again quickly.

"Okay, don't forget to call me if you need to use the restroom." Bella nodded, turning to look out the window while the nurse continued to fiddle with the machines, checking the graphs on Bella's heart monitor and making notes in her file.

An orderly brought in a tray of food, Bella's dinner I supposed, a broth soup, crackers, red jello, typical shit they would give someone with digestive problems and an eating disorder. It seemed to me that Bella just needed a big fat steak, or something high in calories so she could put on weight and get her strength back, but I guess the doctors fucking know more than I do, so I just cringed as Bella sipped the god-awful soup, leaving the jello on the plate and the crackers untouched.

Dr. Irina arrived shortly after Bella had eaten and ushered us into the hall so she could do an exam and private shit, and Esme, Rose and Alice went to the cafeteria to get some dinner. I paced the hall outside Bella's room, waiting for the doctor to let me back in. What could be taking so long? From my perspective, the longer the talk the more shit they have to tell you, and that's never good coming from a physician. They don't get paid to sit around and bullshit.

I just wanted back in. I didn't like being forced out and Bella might be scared or upset, worried, sad, fuck I don't know, but I wanted in that room.

Finally, the door opened and Dr. Irina walked briskly from the room. Anxious, nervous, pathetically nauseated, I stepped back in.

Bella was still in the bed, her glistening eyes transforming to warm, and smiling as I sat at the foot of her bed.

"Hey," she said quietly.

"Hi," I replied. "What did she say?"

"Just a routine exam. They're going to do an ultrasound tomorrow to check if everything is okay, and they're going to take more blood samples. I fucking hate needles," Bella shuddered. "I just want to go home, Edward." Silent tears fell down her cheeks, dotting the sheet stretched across her lap. "They might make me stay, like, weeks. I can't stay here for weeks. I can't do it, I'll fucking go crazy. And I can't miss school, that will fuck up graduation, and then there's Rose's baby shower. I can't stay here. I just want to go home."

"I know. But don't you want to come home feeling better? You need to stay here to get healthy so you can be okay at home. So this doesn't happen again," I said quietly. I didn't want to upset her, but I didn't think she was ready to come home, not in the slightest.

"What if I can't get better? What if I'm just damaged for good? Fuck! You don't know what it's been like, all these people want me to fucking spill my guts to them, therapists, nutritionists, grief counselors. They had me on fucking suicide watch!" Bella said, her voice hushed yet frantic. "And then there are all these medical terms, all these drugs they're giving me, and I have no fucking clue what they're talking about. They've been pumping me full of vitamins, antibiotics, antacids, something to increase my appetite, something to stop the bleeding. They were going to put me on Prozac, but apparently I have a problem with addictive substances, so they can't even give me the good drugs. Fuck, they make me piss with the door open. I have to be monitored to pee, like a goddamn four year old." I listened to her racing heart monitor, the beeps increasing with frequency as Bella ranted.

"Well, you're never going to get out of here if you keep freaking out like that. They're going to see that little outburst on your monitor, you know," I said quietly.

"Fuck their monitors, this is ridiculous!" she shouted, and ripped the sticky pad from her chest. The heart monitor suddenly flat-lined, the long strained beep blaring in the small space. A nurse ran into the room, and then another as Bella just sat there staring at me, her chest heaving, her eyes blazing. The nurses looked at her in confusion, their eyes fixed on the sensor in her hand.

"It fell off," Bella muttered her pathetic excuse, and I almost laughed at her lack of creativity. Surprisingly, they just reaffixed the sensor and rolled their eyes at Bella's perceived stupidity, and reset the monitor before leaving the room.

"They think I deserve to die," Bella said. "Maybe they're right."

"Why would you say something like that? They do not think you deserve to die," I responded, shocked at her statement, my chest constricting and making my breath labored.

"They do. They think I did this to myself and it's my fault I'm in here and that I'm just a fucking self-absorbed, superficial asshole," she shrugged. "They're right. This is all my fault."

"If anything, this is my fault. I should have…"

"No!" Bella interrupted, grabbing my hand, her cold fingers gripping my wrist. "No. None of this is your fault, don't you ever, ever say that or think it again. Do you hear me, Edward? Do not fucking blame yourself for this. I'm the one who didn't eat and I…I took Charlie's pills. This is all me, Edward." A soft sob erupted from her lips and her breath stuttered as she gasped through her tears.

Pills? She was taking pills? Pills meant for a three hundred pound male? Maybe she should be on suicide watch. Shit, was she trying to kill herself? My initial response was to put my fist through the wall. But that would just get me kicked out of the hospital for good and then I'd have to do something illegal to get back in.

"What…what pills?" I managed to mutter, squeezing my eyes shut as I tried to absorb this new piece of insanely disturbing information.

"I don't know, they were for anxiety and depression, I think. They made it easier to sleep and they calmed me down. I was just going to use them until I could deal, you know, and then this happened and I'm so sorry, Edward. God, you must hate me after everything I've put you through, what I've put your family through. You should hate me." Bella continued to cry, her arm covering her face as she flopped back down on the hospital bed. I took a deep breath trying to calm the twitching in my limbs and the thumping of my heart as it rattled in my chest.

"I'm never going to hate you Bella. I thought I explained that before. And, you know, whatever you think you're putting me through, keep in mind that I am here of my own accord. You haven't tricked me into anything here," I said softly. "Anything I've been through, I've done so willingly. Don't give yourself all the credit, now." I smiled slightly, trying to take some of that guilt. We all make mistakes, it's what gives us the ability to empathize, it's what creates admiration for the struggles of others. It's one connection that all humans share, the ability to fuck up.

Bella had fucked up. She chose not to eat, she willingly put those pills in her body, but I understood why she had done it. I had been there too, so willing to numb the fuck out that I gorged myself on any chemical I could get my hands on. I had starved myself of care, of food, of sleep, craving that emptiness, that state of disorientation, when everything is blurry and nothing hurts as much. It only furthered my connection to her, my desperation to remain entangled, knowing that I was not alone in my fucked up conclusions, knowing that someone else had the same self destructive ideations. It shit me that Bella was going through this now, it destroyed me beyond belief that I couldn't stop it, and it angered me, made me fucking sick to my stomach that I felt relief in this connection to her.

She pulled me to lie with her in the bed, her tears quieting and her breathing slowed, with a soft I love you as she pressed her lips to my face, my cheek, my neck. She murmured I'm sorry over and over again, and I wrapped my arms around her, avoiding the wires and tubes, the constant reminders of her mistakes, and I fully understood why being here was so difficult for her. All these doctors, the medications, the tests, they all reminded her that she had fucked up. And there was still shit we didn't even know about, problems that had yet to disclose themselves, health problems that could be with her forever.

These were the most difficult pills to swallow, the remorse, the guilt, but worst of all, the consequences. It was the most basic law of nature; for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. My mind wandered to when I sought to aggravate mental illness, looking for the release of chemicals that would damn me forever to the confines of a mental institution. I stole, I lied, I took drugs and picked fights. Once, I passed out on the front lawn after chasing a couple of painkillers with a bottle of vodka. Alice had found me face down in the yard, and she had panicked. She thought I was dead. I was constantly hurting those relationships that meant the most to me, leaving my sister frightened and alone, still grieving the loss of our parents and then having to deal with all the shit I was putting her through. And then there was Carlisle and Esme, accepting me back once I gave it all up, no questions asked, no guilt trips, no consequences handed to me on their behalf. Just pure acceptance.

When the love and acceptance you receive is pure and undemanding, it makes you want to be worthy of that love and acceptance. I wanted to show this to Bella, that she was worthy of that love, and I didn't care how many times she chose to self-destruct, I wasn't going to give up on her.

Because I knew she would never give up on me.

…

BPOV

Beep…beep…beep…

I blinked. Once. Twice. That vile, sterile smell of alcohol and plastic invaded my nostrils as I reached for a familiar warm body. "Edward?" I croaked, a painful scratching in my dry and parched throat as I tried to speak. "Where are you? What…what is…what's happening…" I tried to stand up and the needle in my hand throbbed as it pulled at the punctured skin. I clutched at the tubes taped to my skin and a large hand grabbed at my wrist, enveloping my fingers as I struggled to rip free of the tubes.

"What's happening? Where am I?" My eyes darted around the room, my free hand pulling at my hair.

"You're at the hospital, remember? It's okay." Edward spoke into my face, trying to hold my eyes with his. I was breathing heavily, the memories of the last couple of days slowly starting to replenish themselves, the familiar faces reassuring as I tried to slow my heart rate. "Alice, call the nurse."

"No! I'm fine, I promise. I just…forgot where I was," I whispered. I looked around the once-neutral room now adorned with my tote in the chair, filled with my school books and independent study assignments, my quilt from home on the hospital bed, and Charlie's flannel draped around my shoulders. Alice was curled up in one of the chairs, her hair parted into two French braids. Edward's hand still clutched mine, his clothing wrinkled and worn, lethargic green eyes gazing into mine, scratchy stubble peppering his chin, and then I remembered he'd been here for the last five days, even sleeping in his car in the parking lot that first night when that bitch of a nurse kicked him out. The others had been very accommodating by letting the restriction on visiting hours slide, either because they knew Carlisle or because they felt sorry for me, or they felt sorry for him, or some other unknown reason, but Edward hadn't left my side since that first day. It was dark out, evening, and I sat back down, settling into the bed and pulling the quilt up around my legs.

"Your nurse came in to see you," Edward commented. "But she didn't want to wake you up. She said she'd be in just before dinner and to call her if you needed to use the restroom." I nodded and ran my hands through my hair, my arm sore where the needle moved around under my skin.

Jesus, when were they going to take this fucking needle out of my arm?

It had been five nights that I had been in the hospital, five nights since I almost bled to death from a miscarriage, five nights since I admitted to Edward that I had been taking Charlie's meds and that I was responsible for my failed bodily functions.

When they had told me in the emergency room that I had lost the baby, I had no clue what they were talking about. I was so out of it, so confused by what they were trying to say, that it didn't even register that I could have been pregnant. It literally did not make sense in my brain.

Dr. Irina had come in to introduce herself and to talk to me about some of the procedures and tests they had done in the emergency room. She told me I had miscarried, mainly because my body wasn't strong enough to sustain a pregnancy, but also because I had pumped my system full of pills. I couldn't even pin this one on karma. It was all me. All fucking me. When all your stars are stacked you cannot win…

They had a grief counselor come in and talk to me about it, but I really didn't feel grief. I didn't have a chance to feel any type of hope or anticipation or excitement or whatever else people might feel when they find out they're going to have a baby, so I really didn't feel that sense of loss that everyone expected of me. And I was a mess, fucking shackled to a self-inflicted disease that could potentially kill me, so I didn't see how I was fit to be a parent. I was ninety-nine percent sure that this miscarriage was for the best.

That other one percent was a nagging vision painted in bronze and green, of baseball practice and camping trips, and it let disappointment settle into my awareness. I couldn't help but think of what could have been, and the fact that I could have created this unknown being with Edward was unsettling. Dr. Irina had said it was a medical anomaly that I had even been able to conceive in the first place, my body's deficiencies so numerous that it seemed to lack everything I needed to even have a baby. The hormone levels in my blood had indicated I had been pregnant for six weeks or so, and the fact this little mass of cells had stuck it out for so long was fucking impressive. I couldn't help but admire the tenacity of it, I mean, my body was a hostile environment! It reminded me of a dandelion that you might see growing from a crack in the sidewalk; life, bursting and fighting through the confines of the substantial barrier of concrete, searching for the sun, refusing to be ignored, until it's plucked from its undesired position by someone acting under the pretense that a weed doesn't belong on their crisp, clean sidewalk.

I am the weed picker. And a baby most definitely doesn't belong with me, my whole being deficient in the ability to nurture another life.

Logically, I knew this, but I couldn't stop that disappointment from invading. I couldn't help but think of Rose, months into nurturing a life, weeks away from giving birth, and I felt envy. It was completely irrational, but I envied her ability to do this completely normal thing, a thing I completely failed at. It made me appreciate her choice, even the ability to have a choice, to travel this journey and to share it with us, to be so natural and open with the experience, because it was sure as hell completely unnatural for me.

I was also more or less mortified that, now, Edward's family knew we were having unprotected sex. I was pretty sure they had suspected we had a sexual relationship, but now I also truly understood what Rose had explained about herself; people, nurses, doctors, therapists, educated and perfectly decent people were judging me, and even though they were supposed to be professionals, they were really just people, people who had beliefs, faith in the social rules and norms that people had created to measure success, to measure happiness. What they saw in me was a little girl, starving herself for attention, just a superficial and stupid girl ruled by her hormones and lacking common sense. One nurse called it a blessing that I was having to go through all of this, that maybe it would knock some sense into me. I don't know how many times I'd heard the phrase Why didn't her parents do anything? Or my favorite, If you were my child… and then insert some form of feeding by force bordering on corporal punishment. They all thought they could just fatten me up and I'd be fine. Okay, I'm generalizing, they didn't all think that. Some of the nurses had been really nice and I could see they were sympathetic. I could see the care in their faces but that just made me feel like shit because I didn't deserve it. I was willingly destroying the lives of so many people, the last thing I deserved was sympathy.

I had been through a shitload of tests. They checked for everything: pelvic exams, hormone levels, blood sugar, thyroid function, ultrasounds, chest x-rays, bone density, they did an EKG to check my heart function and even had to test my bowel transit time, like my shit was some form of public transportation, or something. I had to pee with the door open, a fucking nurse keeping watch so I wouldn't be inclined to puke, and I had an array of professionals striding through my room wanting me to talk about how I felt or why I wouldn't eat, and I made the mistake of telling them it upset my stomach to eat. They threatened to put a tube in my nose and I had to practically sell my soul to the devil to get them to change their minds. Instead, they decided to inject yet another solution into my I.V., this one was, supposedly, to combat the nausea.

Apparently, my stomach had shrunk and that was why I was feeling sick even after eating very little, so they put me on a low calorie diet to start. Also, from all the purging, I had a scarred esophagus, and my digestive tract was shot because stomach acids had been building up, or something, and now I had some reflux thing. My body was, literally, destroying itself, and I had no one to blame but myself.

My doctor was okay, for a nosy lady trying to tell me what to do. Dr. Irina tried scare tactics at first, telling me the statistics about Eating Disorders: half of the people fully recover, about forty percent never fully get rid of the compulsion, and the remaining ten percent wither away until their organs shut down and they eventually expire. She never indicated where she thought I placed on her pretty little chart.

When she told me, though, how much I weighed, I admit I panicked a little. Again, she pulled out her stats, showing me that for someone my height and age I should weigh at least a hundred pounds. This number didn't scare me, it was just that she had said this was what I should weigh.

Should, meaning, that I didn't.

She did show me where I placed on this pretty little chart.

Ninety-one pounds. A prime spot in the dangerous zone.

Now, when I thought about it, this was just nine pounds less than healthy, just nine pounds. Surely nine pounds would be easy to put back on. Fuck, I figured they had pumped about ten pounds of fluids into me intravenously, I was sure I would be able to do nine pounds.

But the next day, they weighed me again.

Ninety-one pounds.

And so my life was being taken over by fucking numbers and levels and charts and graphs, and it was all so overwhelming. There were so many different doctors, all of them wanting to talk about body issues and perfectionism, or fear of abandonment, and all of them trying to diagnose me, hammer me into this mold that some psychologist had made up in the fifties, or some shit. So, I told them. I told them about my mom and Charlie, about how it started with the puking and progressed from there, and they started giving me some of my meds in pill form. And I saw a pattern. I tell them something, they let me off the leash a little. I just wanted to go home and I quickly discovered my way out. I had to tell them what they wanted to hear.

The nurse, one of the nice ones today, lightly knocked on the door before entering the room. "Hello, Bella? How are you feeling? Any pain?" I have no idea why they ask, I wasn't allowed to have pain meds even though it felt like someone was punching me in the gut most of the time. I had the most god-awful cramping and body aches but my initial blood tests had told them all they needed to know about my gratuitous pill popping, pills that hadn't been prescribed to me. They had to pump my stomach in the emergency room. That's how they discovered the scarring in my esophagus.

"I'm fine," I muttered. Edward had taken a seat in the chair next to Alice, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands folded as he waited for the nurse to finish her usual round of temperature, blood pressure, and I.V. checks, then handing me the small white cup of pills.

"We're going to do a weight check tomorrow. One step closer to getting that I.V. removed," she said hopefully, and I half smiled at her cheerful disposition. Yeah, she was alright. I hated it when they wouldn't tell me shit, like it was top secret information or a big surprise they were ruining. It's my body, you know, I should be the first one they tell what they're going to do to it, right?

I choked down the pills, being careful not to disclose any signs of the rumbling nausea burning in my stomach.

"And they're going to do another pelvic exam and ultrasound to make sure you don't need another procedure," the nurse said with a frown. Fuck. The pelvic exam was miserable, I felt like I was being ripped in half from the poking and prodding, and I just detested being all exposed in front of these people I barely knew. It was the most humiliating thing I'd ever experienced.

"Do you know when I'll be able to go home?" I asked her, trying to pry information from her all-too-forthcoming pleasant personality.

"It all depends on you, sweetie. Picking at your plate ain't helping, I can tell you that much," she said as she finished making notes in her folder. Shit, they notice everything here.

"Dinner will be in a few." The nurse gave me a quick wink, closing the door as she left the room.

I ate every fucking thing on that damn tray.

…

Ninety-four pounds.

I inspected the bruise on my hand, the purplish green spot, as I sat cross legged on the hospital bed. I could still feel the monstrous hole were the needle had been. Dr. Irina was going over my test results from yesterday, but all I could do was relish in the sweet freedom the removal of the invading device had given me. As soon as had they pulled the needle from my vein I felt eighty times better. There's just this stigma of being sick that the I.V. was perpetuating. I really didn't feel like I could even get well as long as I was hooked up to that shit. Rose had brought me some normal clothes and I was able to get dressed. I was starting to feel somewhat normal again, slightly bloated and swollen, but so much better now that I wasn't strapped to the fucking hospital bed.

The graphs and charts were out again, as well as the pictures taken from the ultrasound and the results from my blood tests and chest x-rays. They were finally giving me some answers.

And I was completely alone.

Edward and Alice were at school, it being Monday, the beginning of another week in which I would be completing my schoolwork via independent study. At least my absence wouldn't affect graduation, and independent study was actually pretty awesome. I had already completed half the assignments and it was mostly busy work, annoying but easy shit.

Rose was at work and Esme had an appointment with a client, so it was just me today. My stomach twisted in apprehension at the thought of what this doctor was going to tell me, just hoping I was well enough to go home.

"Bella? Do you understand?" I nodded. She had said she wanted me to gain one to two pounds a week and I was to continue taking the multivitamin as well as an iron supplement for the anemia, antacids to combat the acid reflux and this pill that was supposed to increase my appetite.

"And I'm prescribing you birth control to help regulate your menstrual cycle." Dr. Irina made a note in her file, spreading the gray, fuzzy pictures out before me. "Bella, these are pictures of your reproductive organs and heart, and this…" she slid another photo in front of me, "is how the organs of a eighteen year old should look."

Again, with that word. Should.

"There's no easy way to say this, Bella. Your hormone levels are below average. At this point, your body has been so deprived that you have ceased normal menstruation. Your ovaries are fifty percent smaller than what they are supposed to be, and the tissue surrounding your reproductive organs has deteriorated and is permanently scarred. Bella, I'm afraid your eating disorder has most likely left you infertile." Dr. Irina tried to say it as kindly as possible, but she could have just punched me in the face.

Infertile. Just one more way I had failed as a fucking human being.

"Bella?" The door pushed open and a soft, charming voice called my name. Edward. He must have ditched school because he knew I'd be here alone. I clutched at my chest, just to make sure I was still here, sitting in this room in this dilapidated body, hearing these words from her mouth.

"Hey." I found my voice and I heard it respond. It trembled and wavered, an unfamiliar underwater garble.

"Edward, if you don't mind waiting outside." Dr. Irina motioned to the door and Edward turned to leave but, like always, I couldn't let him go. He should hear this too. He needed to know just how fucked-up I really was, how I could never give him what he deserved. Or maybe I was just too cowardly to have to tell him myself, but for whatever reason, I wanted him with me.

"No, he can stay. She was just telling me how I can't have kids now. My ovaries are like raisins. Look," I said, my monotone voice oddly calm as I tossed the picture to him. Edward walked slowly into the room, his black sneakers trampling the stupid ovary picture as he came to sit beside me on the bed, his eyes focused on mine as he gently took my hand. His thumb ghosted over the puncture wound, careful not to aggravate the bruise.

Breaking my gaze, he turned to face the doctor. "What else you got?" he said, his voice strong and brave. "Like a tiny light break in a storm…"

Dr. Irina let me leave on Wednesday. Nine days, four pounds, one miscarriage, two shriveled ovaries, a shrunken heart, and a heap of medication later, I was allowed to go home. They had wanted me to stay, of course, until I gained the desired nine pounds, but there was no way in hell I was staying in that room any longer than I absolutely had to, and since I was no longer a minor, and I was no longer under any immediate physical danger, I was free to leave.

They had made appointments for me to continue seeing a nutritionist, a therapist, a grief counselor, routine visits with Dr. Irina, as well as a heart and bone specialist. Not only was I infertile and in danger of a potential heart attack from a shrunken heart, but it looked as if osteoporosis may be in my future as well. Osteoporosis! It was like I had the body of an eighty year old.

Edward drove me home, his hand laced with mine as he cruised through morning traffic, some oldie station playing over the radio. He hummed along with the song, sometimes emitting a crooning vibrato, and I gazed intently at the side of his angular face and his bronze curls looping along the nape of his neck and tucked behind his ear. He'd been especially quiet since Monday. He was gentle and calm, sweet in every word, adoring in every touch, and it was irritating as all-fuck. It just felt so forced, like the fucking eggshells again. Don't hurt Bella, protect Bella, save Bella. My heart pounded and I closed my eyes, trying to manage the emotion welling in my chest, my eyes brimming with tears. I didn't want it, this coddling, this sadness, this unease that cloaked my being, shrouding me in desperation and anger and fear. I needed it to stop. I needed it to stop now.

"Pull over!" I shouted, unable to contain the anxiety. I needed to breathe and my hands trembled as a startled Edward skid the car to the side of the road. I got out of the car and walked through the thick trees that lined the highway, letting their cool and fresh scent swirl around my head as I inhaled deeply. I hadn't been outside in ages, it seemed, and the cold air felt divine and icy in my lungs. I heard Edward walking behind me, snapping twigs and crunching leaves, but I just kept walking, stumbling over rocks or rogue roots cutting up out of the earth, and my eyes blurred. When I could no longer hear the roaring of the cars on the highway, I stopped and sank into the muddy earth, my knees caked with dirt as I wept. Edward's arms were around me in an instant and I clutched his jacket, burrowing my face in the damp vinyl.

And I cried. I mourned. I breathed. I saw the vision I had for my future splinter and break away, my heart splitting as the two little bronze-haired beauties disappeared between the trees, their beautiful angular faces blurring and fizzling and fading into nothingness. For the second time in two months I let go of a life I had barely begun to accept as a possibility. I felt it slip away and I was altered, a fissure through my spirit as the ghost of the possibility crumbled away from the whole. I felt the cold mist of morning on my face and in my tangled hair, and I let the sound of the breeze through the tall pines speak to me, soft songs of comfort whispered down through long grasses, the early beginnings of spring blooming in odd places. I picked a small white flower, the five points of a star in the petals; the air still biting, the earth still frozen, but the tiny sprig of life had found a way to bloom, nonetheless. Just a little green, like the color when the spring is born…

But it wouldn't last, by nightfall this meadow would be frozen over, and this bud wouldn't have made it.

I pulled my face away from Edward's sleeve, his eyes red and swollen as he shared my grief. I ran my hands through his hair as the guilt invaded me. My fault. My grief became his, and I hated myself for pulling him into this.

"No more eggshells, okay?" I said to him, my hands on his face, his shapely lips pursed as he contemplated my request.

He nodded, and I stood up on shaky legs, waiting as he found his feet as well.

"Okay," I nodded in return, a quick decisive agreement.

I headed back to the car as Edward walked beside me, dropping the little white flower to the frozen earth, leaving that tiny bit of life behind us.

…

---

-Previous- -Next-

---

Joni Songs Referenced:

Conversation

Willy

Roses Blue

Little Green

Thank you for reading! As always, your thoughts are appreciated.