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Sweet Sacrifice

Edward's gone. Bella has to find a way to survive. So she embraces her depression. Warning: cutting and suicide.

All this belongs to the great Stephenie Meyer. Except for the plot. That was me.

This is the first fan fiction I've posted here, so go easy on me, please!

1. Beauty lies in the pain

Rating 5/5   Word Count 637   Review this Chapter

Bella’s POV

I look at the clock. 3:30 a.m. I have a few hours before Charlie wakes up and I have to go to school. A few hours can give me a whole lot of possibilities.

I sneak out of my small room and into the kitchen. I make sure to tread silently, begging the floor not to announce my presence to Charlie and my feet not to stumble. I pull a bowl out of the cupboard and filled it halfway with salt. My fingers find the right drawer and take out my best friend: a steak knife.

For the first time in forever, I don’t trip on my way up- or down- the stairs. I stop at the bathroom and rummage until I find what I need: a towel… and the bottle of hairspray that Alice bought me for the prom.

I make it back to my room without dropping a grain of salt. I set my treasure on the desk and I lay the towel down on the floor. I move my stuff from the desk to the floor, and plop down in the middle of my towel. The clock now reads 3:40. I need to take advantage of the time I still own, or my plans are dead in the water…

I grab the knife. I’m suddenly unsure about cutting myself because of how squeamish I am when it comes to blood. But I can’t stop now. It would seem too… cowardly. My resolve returns to me. I press the knife to my bare lower left arm, in the middle of all my other scars I have made for myself. I smile as the blade breaks my skin: I can still feel! After being torn from myself, maybe I’m still here! The ribbon of blood flowing down my arm mesmerizes me, holds me captive in its beauty. I set the knife down beside me, and grab the bowl of salt. I get some between my fingers and pinch it over my sacrifice, dedicated to my depression and eternal sadness.

I want to laugh because the joy I am receiving from the pain. But I can’t. It would break me from my humour-less state of mind. And it would wake Charlie. So I don’t. The pain is so beautiful; no wonder people do this to themselves all the time.

I pick a different spot on the same arm. I slice again, savouring the feel of it… enjoying it. Again, I set the knife down beside me on the towel. I pick up the hairspray and spray it all over my wounds. The pain seers through me, causing me to smile.

My arm starts to swell. I start to slice all over my arms. When I am finished, I look at my handiwork: my arms are completely mutilated and ruined, and I am covered with my blood. Then, as a final touch, I stick into my chest. I can’t feel it.

I’m getting tired, so I lay back. I know I’m going to die. Maybe I knew all along. It’s better this way. I don’t have to be a burden to Charlie and Renee anymore. And… Edward…won’t think he owes me anymore favours. It feels good to set him free.

I looked around once more, making sure my note was on my desk. They had to know why it had to be this way…that it wasn’t their fault… that it was bound to be this way.

I don’t feel dizzy from my lack of blood, only tired. I’m almost at the end. No more sadness, no more misery…

To the walls around me, I whisper,” I love you, Edward. Good-bye.”

Then I fall asleep for the last time.