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AU. Bella hasn't spoken a word since the accident - 6 years ago. In a bid to start a fresh, her mother sends her to live with her dad in Forks. There she is the freak to the other kids. Apart from the mysterious Edward Cullen, who helps unlock her past.

A very different try at a fan fiction for me. I don’t know how this is going to turn out. I’d thought I’d give a go at a more serious fanfic. I hope you like it. Please review if you can. Thank you. Disclaimer: I own nothing.

2. Saturday 1st January 2005 1:30pm

Rating 4/5   Word Count 701   Review this Chapter

“Words and hearts should be handled with care for words when spoken and hearts when broken are the hardest things to repair.” - Unknown

Saturday 1st January 2005 - 1:30pm

Dear Diary,

Had a meeting with Dr West, this morning. Yes the asshole, even comes on New Years Day. He has a thing for my Mom, that’s obvious. That’s probably the only reason he’s stuck around so long. I see him lick his lips, every time she walks into the room. And I can just imagine all the perverse things he’s thinking. It makes my skin crawl. He must be nearly sixty at least. It was for the use of better words, shit.

He came in, wearing that vile yellow shirt of his & that Mickey mouse tie, he wears on special occasions. His hair now looked like a badgers fur, from where the dye, had came out. I don’t know who he thinks he’s kidding.

He thought we would start the session, with a game of chess.

I hate chess.

The game, has too many rules & I don’t see the point in all the little names for the pieces. But that’s not the reason I hate it. I hate for the two little words that are spoken. “Check Mate”.

We play 3 games.

I won them all.

Dr West, is good at chess. I know this. He has many trophies, hanging on shelves in his office, won decades ago when he had been your average chess club high school geek. He polishes them often.

He lets me win. For the same reason, Mr Ampleton always gives me B’s in French, even if I completely fail. The same reason, the lunch lady gives me an extra slab of pie at lunch. The same reason Mom, never grounds me.

He feels sorry for me.

I’m just the confused, mentally ill, little girl who doesn’t speak. The freak - as I like to call it.

He then decided to ask me how my diary was going. I nodded. Ever since I was eleven, I have nodded a lot. It normally answers a lot of questions, easily & efficiently. It almost makes me seem normal. Not that it matters. Everyone around here, already knows me as a freak.

He then asked if he could read it. I shook my head, another common expression of mine.

He then resorted to small talk. I didn’t listen. He spoke of his wife’s new hair cut & how his new neighbours had just had a baby. I hated how he tried to be my friend. He was my psychiatrist. He couldn’t be any further from a friend.

Then he asked about Christmas. I showed him my new digital camera. Which I knew I could never use. He explained all about mega pixels. Again, I didn’t listen.

When he finally finished with me, he asked to speak to Renee. That’s my Mom…In private.

I knew what private discussions were about. I may be a mute, but that doesn’t mean I’m stupid. It’s when he has concerns about me. When I was younger I would wait & listen at the top of the stairs. It was all too frequent now, to do that. Besides, it had begun to bore me.

He used to ask if any of my memory was resurfacing, but as the years past that became less & less.

The day, it happened, the day she died. I can only remember certain parts. The rest is lost to my memory. I used to have nightmares, about my forgotten memory, every night. I still do. But I know now that they are too far fetched to ever be true.

Lucy & David told me what happened? But I don’t think they’re telling me entirely the truth. They’re trying to protect, more than likely. Just like everyone else.

So, now here I am, listening to a cd that Phil bought be for Christmas & writing in this freaking waste of time, of a diary.

My Moms, calling me now though. She probably wants to discuss exactly what her & Dr West, have been talking about. The norm, is my eating habits, my grades, my lack of enthusiasm when he suggests joining clubs. That sort of thing.

I will never be expected into this world, diary. Not while I’m the freak, who can’t be understood.