Hello everyone! Hope everyone had a merry Christmas! Or Happy Holidays! Anyway, I had this idea for about a week, but it's taken me a while to start it. It's kind of my take on if Bella hadn't gotten better during New Moon, and it's easier to figure out if you forget everything after Chapter 3 of New Moon. Spoilers for those who haven't read New Moon yet. Sorry I haven't updated Alive Together yet, hopefully I'll get around to that around New Years.

I'm not really proud of this, it seems mediocre and complicated, and it wasn't what I imagined, but here it is, I'll probably delete it though, who knows?

Sorry if some of this stuff isn't right.

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.

Name: Isabella Marie Swan

Age: 18

DOB: 9/13/87

Diagnosis: Clinical Depression, Schizophrenia, Paranoia

"No! NO! Let go of me! Edward! EDWARD!"

The two nurses struggled to hold Isabella Swan down on her hospital bed as a doctor injected a sedative into her white arm. The slight girl was surprisingly strong in her lunatic attacks and periodic screaming. One passing doctor shook her head as she heard the desperate calling of a boy named Edward and the noises that Isabella was making in her panic. It was so sad that this was such a normal occurrence in Room 213. At least once a day, normally during the night, Isabella would call out to this Edward and scream and cry and claw at the empty air with the look of one who has seen too much in their lifetime.

It was such a shame really, it was whispered all throughout the hospital, that Isabella Swan was never going to be cured, or at least learn how to manage in the outside world. Many patients at least showed signs of convalescence after less than a year. Others didn't, but they were never as extreme as this and for such a long period of time. No, Isabella Swan was definitely different, she raved of these people, of Carlisle, Esme, Emmett, Jasper, Rosalie, Alice, and most of all, Edward. No matter what the weather, although she preferred it to be cloudy at least, her windows were to be always open, but if there was any trace of yellow or red in her room she would have screaming fits. This included her blood. If any doctor was to draw blood in her view, she was to be unconscious.

But the staff never looked at Isabella with disgust, or anger, or annoyance, or even fear. They had heard what had triggered her condition and the only emotions that Isabella ever drew out of the people that took care of her were pity, love, and empathy…yes…there was a lot of empathy. It says in her records that Isabella had a mental breakdown after being found freezing and damp in the forest outside her home in Forks, Washington by a search party after she had gone missing, but that wasn't the story that Bella told. She didn't say anything about it at all, but her eyes held the look that every woman knew as her own, the look of a soul that was crushed and torn in half by the one she loved.

Sometimes she received visitors, a tall man with tanned skin and cropped black hair. He would sit by her, and she would talk quietly to him, the calmest she would ever be was always near this boy. There was once a time when her nurses hoped that he would help her in time, but they know better now. Her father came now and then. He wouldn't say anything, much like his silent daughter; only stare in blank pity and a closed face. Even rarer, her mother would come, but she would leave soon, not being able to handle the look on her daughter's face.

There was one visitor that came only once when she was asleep, bribing a nurse to let him in and not to tell anyone, not even the invalid herself. The bribed nurse could only stare at the beautiful man and mutely nod as his black glass eyes, so very like a doll's eyes, so lifeless, grew sadder and sadder and sadder by the second. That was the only time that her door was ever closed, when the stranger was by her bedside, whispering to her sleeping form.

Every morning after that strange visitor came and went like the wind itself, Isabella woke up with a smile and calling for Edward again, but it was then that she recognized her horribly sterile surroundings with the blank white tile and the claustrophobic, closed window.

Yeah, it's that short. Sorry.

Questions? Comments? Concerns?

TwilightSnowStar