Okay, so here we go.

I´m officially back!

I really hope you guys still care about this story as much as I do - even if I neglejected it in the past weeks... months.

Enjoy!

I Tried So Hard

If the soul is left in darkness, sins will be committed. The guilty one is not he who commits the sin, but he who causes the darkness.

Victor Hugo, Les Misérables, Fantine, Bk 1, ch. 4

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It was the third week that brought me back to life – that brought me answers…

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Lost love leaves behind only a mess of broken pieces and unaccomplished wishes, dreams, tasks. It leaves and it takes away the means for the life you built up inside of your mind, in that peaceful happy place where everything is possible and words like evil, betrayal and cruelty do not exist. Neither does goodbye.

That was the prize you had to pay for love, the imaginary contract you sign when giving yourself to another person, opening up, voluntarily becoming vulnerable – the knowledge that in a real world every binding string could be ripped apart with an unknown brutality. That dreams end. That at some point you just have to wake up…

It is pain – agony to wake up. To find that that happy, perfect world is nothing but the contrary of reality, a blurry, too vivid dream. Reality consists of words like cruelty, evil and betrayal.

That is what lost love makes you understand.

I had woken up once, finding myself in a mess of what I used to be, what I had wanted to be, the lines between my dream and the real world diffuse, encircling me, taking away the air to breathe.

Then I had known. It had really been lost love. But now… now I was left behind with realization. With the horrible feeling of loosing something you never really owned, something you prevented yourself from having all the time although it could have been yours, and yours alone.

"Bella? Are you still here?"

My mother's voice echoed in my ears, a dull sound – shrieking, strangely happy. But concerned.

Holding on to my strained binding strings I pulled myself out of my daydreams.. no, was there something like day-nightmares?

The worried face of my mother cleared in front of my eyes, her forehead wrinkled in concern, her eyes hooded, the enthusiasm and euphoria that had been reflected from them ever since I could remember now weak and almost impossible to recognize anymore.

A familiar rush of guilt ran through my veins, my chest clenching painfully and like always I forced a chaste smile onto my lips, hoping, in vain, that the damage I had caused in my mother would subside.

But just as always, lying was beyond me and especially my mother did not buy the fake smile that was meant to heal the wounds I had caused in her.

Still, she joined me in my mocking game of artificiality, acting as if my smile really reassured her that I was fine, that my pain was slowly fading, that her old Bella was on her way of recovery.

Deep down I knew she was suffering just as much as I did, even though she did not know everything. Not really, to say at least.

"What were you saying?" I asked, careful to sound stronger than I felt, continuing our everlasting game.

"I was asking what you think about this," Renée said casually, her part in this play perfectly rehearsed, much better than mine.

She pointed her long finger onto the vivid-coloured high-gloss paper of a fashion magazine, the bright red dress that clung to the skinny models` pearly skin almost hurting my eyes.

"It´s… red."

"I see that. What do you think? Would that look good on me?" her voice resembled a little girls` now, eager for a positive answer, full of excitement no matter how false it might really be.

"Where would you want to wear that?"

"Well…," a rosy blush tainted Renée's cheeks and seeing that my mother finally had a real emotion, a true reaction, was calming me down. It gave me hope that I had not destroyed everything in her.

"Mom?" I urged her, reaching out my arm to slightly push her shoulder.

"I thought about surprising Phil once I go back to Florida. You know… since I missed our anniversary. Thought I should make up for that."

She focused on the dress and I had the slight suspicion that she had wanted to ask me about that dress for more than just a few days now.

Trying myself with a delightful laugh I was able to conjure a smile on my mother's face.

"Maybe you should go with something less…. something a little more classic, Mom," I said, putting emphasize on the last word, the image of my mother in that rather short red dress being more funny than seductive.

"Do you think it´s too much?"

"For my mother – yes it is."

Renée laughed at that and turned the magazine's page, revealing a rather impressive green gown.

"Maybe I should –"

She was interrupted by a low-key knock knock on the door to my room.

"Do you expect someone?" she asked curiously, her back to me while she faced the door.

"No," I murmured, my heart beating faster, just like every time someone knocked on the door, the hope that maybe it was the person I wanted to see the most these days still anchored in my every cell.

But each time it was just a nurse, a doctor, my dad with another souvenir from the cafeteria. Angela had been here to visit me yesterday – at least Charlie told me that. I had been asleep.

That revelation had caused me another night without much sleep, the fear that I missed Jacob because I was sleeping preventing me from falling into unconsciousness.

On the other hand the thought comforted me.

Drowsy and with heavy eyes I had imagined Jacob sitting by my bedside every night, holding my hand in his, now and then his fingertips brushing against the cold skin of my face – just sitting there, being with me.

"Come in," my mother called, putting the magazine onto the overloaded table next to my bed, full with flowers, cards, candy, my never-used phone, water, tea, a sandwich she had brought with her earlier, two other magazines, my copy of Wuthering Heights which Charlie had placed there but which I never touched, a remote for the television, my rings and bracelets and Renee's sunglasses.

The door opened slowly and when I saw the face that appeared behind it I felt a strange mixture between the usual disappointment and sadness and the nervousness, excitement and fear that boiled in my blood at the sight of this face.

"Hey, Bella," Mike Newton said shyly, closing the door behind him, standing in his place lost and unsure what to do or where to go.

"Mike," I murmured, exhaling the air I had been holding with a sharp hiss.

"Sit down, boy. Bella, I'll go looking for your Dad. I'll be back later," Renée said a little too quickly, almost jumping out of the chair next to my bed, grabbing her gray cardigan, bending over me to press her lips against my forehead and rushing towards the door.

She offered Mike a bright, welcoming smile and padded his shoulder, giving him no chance to say or do anything in return before quickly disappearing into the hospital hallway outside.

Uncomfortable silence enveloped us, once again the beeping of the machines around me straining my nerves and I nervously eyed Mike, who's left hand was buried in his jeans pocket while the right held on to a bouquet of yellow tulips, his own face dropped downwards.

"You can sit, if you want," I said, watching Mike's face lift and his solid expression lighten a little at my words.

He walked slowly towards me, breathing heavy, his chest heaving with the weight of each step he took.

"Here, for you," he said blankly, reaching out his hand with the flowers.

"Thank you."

I took them from his hand and placed them in my lap, neither able to do anything with them nor really eager to.

Mike sat down, still avoiding my gaze, shifting in his chair with unease.

The seconds passed by without any sign of life between us, any hint that we even realized the other was there. We just sat there, avoiding each other, trying to let time bring answers.

But time never brings answers. That I had realized long ago. Neither does is heal.

"What did they tell you, Mike?" I finally asked, the question burning on my dry lips, chapped from the too clean air inside the hospital, denied fresh, crispy air and wind for far too long now.

Mike's face lifted, facing me, eyes clouded with doubt and hesitation, his fingers balled to fists, the skin that covered his knuckles white from the force with which he held his fingers together – probably held himself together.

"What is going on here, Bella? What happened to you? What am I lying for? I don´t…," his angry voice faded into another silent break and I felt the urge to comfort him.

He had been pulled into this misery – he was innocent. Never ever should he have been involved in this.

"Mike… you have to tell me what they told you," I said, my voice balancing on a string between the urgency my curiosity caused and the softness that my compassion forced into me.

Mike exhaled sharply and I was surprised how real Mike Newton could be. This moment of pure anger and despair was the most I ever saw of him, not the shy, good-looking, charming boy he pretended to be at school. It should never have been a surprise, but he was real. And he cared.

"They… it was the morning after we went to cinema. I had the flu, you know that. And… this Sam, I guess that was his name, he was at my house and told my mother he was a friend of yours and that you had an accident and that he needed to talk to me. You know my mum adores you, so… she let him in and… he was… weird. I asked what happened to you and he… suddenly he opened my window and then there were three other guys… they are so huge and… intimidating. And he told me that… you and…Jacob had an accident. He never really told me what it was but… he said that you guys went somewhere you should not have been and that if anyone found that out you'd be in immense trouble and that… I should… he asked me if I were willing to lie for you."

Mike's expression was one was absence, his movements still, his voice echoing in the quiet room. It was as if he tried to remember a long forgotten experience, trying to dig out old memories. Or the ones you just do not want to remember.

"I was… confused and said yes. That Sam-guy told me to pretend that we never ever went to the cinema. That you and Jacob forgot about me and went somewhere alone. He was lucky that my mother never saw you guys dropping me off at my house and that the flu prevented me from really… talking to my mum. But… I feel so guilty, Bella," he ended with despair filling his monotone voice, his hand suddenly reaching out for mine, grabbing a little to hard, the tube that still stuck in my hand causing an uncomfortable twitch.

"Bella… did Jacob do this to you? Am I covering a crime? Please. You have to tell me the truth. I did not tell the truth because those guys… because I was afraid. And I feel so bad about that. If someone did this to you on purpose and I am covering that up because I am… scared – than… please tell me this was really an accident."

I felt worse than I had in a long time, seeing Mike in such pain, in such compassion – compassion I did not deserve.

He was leaning closer to me, an unconscious movement – trying to urge an answer out of me.

"Mike…," I whispered, afraid of what to say, afraid of my voice, ashamed of myself, "Jacob did nothing. It was… an accident. Please, just… as hard as this may sound and as much as you should not be involved in this…please just listen to what Sam tells you. He knows what to do. You are not… covering a crime. Please, Mike. Believe me, it is better for you if you now as little as possible."

I tried to return his hold on my hand apart from the pain, a desperate attempt to soothe him.

"But what happened to you, Bel-"

Once again a knock on my door interrupted my conversation, my attempt to save Mike Newton from this world of mystery and misery I had been sucked into.

"I'm okay, Mike. It´s okay…," I whispered, another faint, pleading smile on my lips before I called "Come in" and let go of Mike's hand, bracing myself for the impact of disappointment that was sure to come.

Mike stood up, eying me with more concern and confusion.

"Trust me," I said quietly, watching my father balancing a piece of cake into my room.

"Hey, Mike!"

"Chief Swan," Mike said formally, nodding his head in my father's direction before crossing the room quickly and leaving without any more words for me.

"What's his problem?" Charlie asked while taking in the seat Mike had abandonned, eying my overloaded bed stand and the plate with strawberry cake in his hands, shaking his head in disapproval and then turning his face back to me.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah…," I sighed, my head falling back into the pile of pillows, closing my eyes, hoping for sleep to just come and take me.

My mind wandered to places I usually avoided, the question how we could maintain this lie, what would happen to me, to everyone… to Jacob.

The last thing I remembered hearing was the slight smacking that came from Charlie's direction, the faint smell of strawberries and vanilla filling my nostrils before unconsciousness finally overtook my strained mind and body.

I am not too sure about the entire situation with dropping Mike off at home after the cinema. But I did not want to reread that part. So just pretend Mike´s mother never saw Bella and Jacob dropping him off.

In the next chapter we will finally have the revelation of Bella´s injuries. So stay tuned.