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Beauty in the Darkness

Summary:
Bella Swan lives her life in a cycle. Most of it is spent in rehab where she tries to handle her growing depression. Can newcomer Edward Cullen help find the real Bella and the beauty in the darkness? Rated Adult for talk of drug use. Chapter three up for validation!!!


Notes:
I couldn't get this ridiculous storyline out of my head, so I just had to write it down. For faster chapters, read and review on fanfiction.net


1. Time

Rating 5/5   Word Count 1172   Review this Chapter

I lay awake on the hard mattress for the fourth time this week, or maybe it was more. The ceiling mocked me at its caged inheritance, keeping myself concealed in the dark room. I tried to move but my body refused to respond. I didn’t tend to keep track of time. It was an unnecessary occurrence in the small world of my life. I didn’t feel the need to keep a calendar or a clock, time passed by, no matter how much I observed it.

My life would continue, no matter how much I willed it to stop. It declined my pleas of ending but instead kept going, never ending. It wasn’t a matter of surviving anymore, it was simply existing. That was me; I didn’t live - I simply existed. The world would continue to work and move, while I stayed curled up in a tight ball everyday on this hard mattress.

People found me “interesting”. They said it in a way that was supposed to be interpreted as a compliment but I was not naïve enough to not realize what they really meant. I was interesting as in, no one actually understands me so no one bothers to try with me. I was a blank figure, a silhouette, a bare canvas to the intruding eye, not someone that anyone would actually enjoy being around because they didn’t understand me; I was never going to let them in. I was not someone that conversation came easy to. In fact, I stopped trying.

I found no use in attempting to hold a steady conversation, a satisfactory nod would suffice. A cursory flicker of eyes would also be used, but never a word. I couldn’t find enough emotion inside my fickle body to even smile, no mind utter a word. I found no reason to smile, my life was filled with death and sadness. It was bleak and demeaning; and I was used to it.

It worked on a cycle after that time. It happened, I would become depressed, I would begin to take drugs, I would take an overdose but somehow never managed to actually end it. Then, I would wake up in hospital where I would stay and recover for a week. I would have psychiatrists speak to me and then I would be thrown in this place. It was more than a prison than anything that could help me. I would pretend to get over my addiction, if you could even call it that. I could go without them, I just didn’t want to. I hoped that one day, my plan would finally work and I would be welcomed through the golden gates and into my fate. Instead, I would go home, wait for the inevitable depression to begin and so the cycle would begin again.

So, lying in the darkness of the room, I could not find one thing that sparked any emotion inside me. I was drowsy, but I always was. To pass the time, I read and reread all the books I had formed in my collection and I would feel lost in the writing. That was one thing I supposed I enjoyed. It was the escape from reality I so desperately searched for. The nurses, helpers, whatever they were called, knew better than to disturb me while I was lost in my literature.

Before this happened, I had always wanted to teach literature, maybe one day write a book. Everyone has a dream, and that was mine. It was perhaps out of my reach and would never become mine, but it was what I wanted from life.

I twirled my tatted brown hair around my finger and stared at the ceiling. If only that ceiling would disappear and let me gaze at the beauty above. I hoped I would one day find the inspiration and the reason for living, but I still hadn’t found it and perhaps I never would.

I scraped through each day like it was an uphill struggle. People took such luxuries as the ability to survive everyday with a smile on their faces, I was lucky to simply survive.

I scraped through my life, knowing that the cycle would continue to turn until finally, I found the escape.

Time passed slowly, aching every cell in my body until finally it was time to “wake up”. I shook my head at the choice of words, I was awake hours beforehand everyday. There was a few other inhabitants living in this house of rehab, but none I took an instant liking to and no doubt the feeling was mutual.

I arrived at breakfast and waited casually at the table, alone as always, and took in the earnest mutterings of my surrounding crowds. I did this often, refused to speak but accepted the silent offerings of education. I learned many things by simply listening, a quality many could not handle.

From today’s conversations, I soon realized someone new was going to join. This particular program lasted 3 months, including meals, beds, classes and lighter drugs. This new person was a guy, in his 20’s who obviously had an addiction to hard drugs. I found this addiction quite pathetic, and in my own observation, ironic of me to judge. But still, people like him made me almost angry. He more than likely had everything I ever dreamed of, yet chose to ruin his already short, precious life on wasting himself on drugs that gave him small highs.

However, in a way, I was envious. He could take drugs just for the high, not for an exit to the lifelong depression I felt. He could inhale something to make himself feel good, not to try to overdose himself. At times like this, I often wondered who was the most pathetic but soon concluded that I had good reason for my life to be like this and I deserved every feeling of pain I received. It was a punishment I was forever made to pay.

Each member of the programme seemed scarily excited about the new member, for some reason I could not comprehend. They had not met him, so how did they know how great he was going to be or how “his eyes twinkled in the light” and yet I could not help myself in feeling slightly compelled to meet this man.

I scolded myself immediately.

I was not supposed to feel interest.

I was never meant to feel emotion building up inside me.

Bella Swan deserved being emotionless.

I would pay for eternity, but hopefully I wouldn’t make it that long.

And hopefully, I would never have to meet the man who everyone craved, who everyone wanted to lay eyes on. I would not have to dislodge my interest immediately.

No matter how amazing he was destined to be, I did not want to feel interest in locking eyes with the infamous Edward Cullen.