Author’s notes:
Hang in there with me just a bit longer, peeps!
“Are you ready?”
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Chapter 95:
I pulled Bella’s last letter out of my pocket and opened it up, trying to keep my heart from pounding in my chest at the same time.
Edward,
I talked to my therapist last week. She always knew I was writing you, but I wouldn’t really talk about it. This time, when she asked me what I had told you, I decided to tell her what was in my letters. I figured it didn’t really matter. But after I told her, she asked me a question and it made me think. You see, I only told you about the things that I thought you would want to hear, and not everything that has been going on. She asked me what you would really want to hear, and what things I maybe should have been telling you, but wasn’t. She told me if I was going to keep writing to you, I needed to be more honest about it, because not telling you everything we doing a disservice to us both.
I thought about it a lot, and I think she was right. I haven’t been honest with you, because I know where you are has to be horrible, and I didn’t want to make you feel any worse. But I owe it to you to be honest, so here it goes.
I’ve been hospitalized three times for depression and suicide attempts. I don’t think I ever intended to kill myself, really, but I just didn’t know how to cope with everything. I’ve been on medication and in intensive therapy since I got out the last time. I only barely finished high school because my parents hired tutors to help me get through my exams, and the school let me take them late.
Between the tutors, the hospitalizations, and health insurance that doesn’t think mental problems are worth covering, I pretty much ruined my family financially. I’m still struggling with a ton of guilt because of that, and because of what I did to you. I keep being told neither are my fault, and some days I agree, other days I don’t. I still have nightmares.
The only job I have been able to keep is the library job. I can’t always make myself get up I in the morning, so I lost the one at the sporting goods store. The library was always really flexible about when I came in, and as long as I got my hours in during the weekend, they didn’t really care what time I showed up.
My dad died of a heart attack two months ago. I blame myself for that, too. I know how much stress I have put on him over the past year and a half, and I know that hasn’t helped. Mom keeps telling me he always had high blood pressure, but I know everything that happened to her and to me took their toll on him as well.
I did get into the community college. I went there partially due to money, but also because I graduated late and didn’t get any applications in on time. I trying to study to be a teacher, but the classes are still pretty rough on me.
I’m still trying to get enough money together to come and visit you, but I need at least $500, and I’m pretty sure my mom would kill me if I used it for plane fair instead of schoolbooks right now. Once the insurance money comes through from my Dad’s policy, I hope I will have enough, but they say that can take up to a year.
I’m starting to think that you may not write me back. I don’t know why. I don’t even know for sure if you are getting any of my letters. I still hope you are okay. I still think about you every day. People still tell me I shouldn’t, but I can’t help how I feel.
Some days I’m angry at you. I’m angry because of everything you did that started all of this. I’m angry because I haven’t heard from you at all. I’m angry that you plead guilty, when you probably could have found a way to get off, or at least end up with a lesser charge. I also know you did it for me.
As for right now, mostly I’m confused. My therapist said you should have received at least some of my letters, and you could have written me back at the library, even if my dad had been throwing them out. I don’t know what I should do. She keeps telling me I have to move on with my life – finish school, go out on dates, be myself. I try – I really do. I have some good friends who have supported me a lot. Not about everything, but they’re just worried about me.
I just wish I knew what you were thinking. Maybe you are getting my letters, and you just aren’t responding. Maybe you aren’t even reading them. Maybe I am stupid and naïve, like so many people have said I am.
If you can, please write me back.
Love,
Bella
“Edward?”
“Yeah,” I mumbled back. My hands were shaking and making the paper shake, too.
“Are you ready?”
“I still don’t know what to say.”
“What if she walked into this room right now?” Irina asked. “What would you do?”
I had to think about that one.
“Tell her that her friends and her family are right, and she should move on.” I rubbed my fingers into my temples. “And that I love her and I don’t want her to ever give up on me.”
“Those two things don’t really fit together very well,” Irina said.
“I know.”
“Let’s see what we can come up with, okay?”
I don’t know how long it took us to write it, but Irina cancelled her group session to help me finish it. I started over at least ten times, changing my mind on the wording, and wanting to not have too many pencil scratching all over it. When it was done, I read it again and again.
Bella,
I don’t know what to say to you. That’s why I haven’t written. I wanted to – please believe that – but I’ve not been in a good place at all, and I just didn’t know how to respond. Sometimes I don’t get your letters for at a month or more, and I think whatever I might have said then doesn’t make any difference now.
Everything I just said was just an excuse. I didn’t write you because I was afraid to write you. I don’t want to tell you what it’s like here. I don’t want to fuck up your life any more than I already have. I can’t figure out how anything I do or say now could possibly make anything better for you, except to say that I’m sorry.
I’m sorry for everything I did, and for all the things it caused. I’m sorry I hurt you, and that I hurt your family. I plead guilty because I deserve to be here for what I did to you. I don’t expect you or anyone else to forgive me for what I’ve done.
I’ve been in therapy, too. I want to get better. I want to be better, so when I get out of here, maybe I can be something…more. I don’t really know what that means right now, but I’m trying to figure it out.
Please spend your money on your education. As much as I want to see you, it’s more important right now.
Edward
I debated over how to sign it for at least twenty minutes. I didn’t want to tell her I loved her in a fucking letter. I didn’t want to tell her at all, and at the same time I wanted to fucking scream it loud enough that she could hear me all the way across the continent. I wanted to tell her I hoped she would still be in my life once this was over, but I didn’t want her to feel like she had to be.
“Are you sure this is everything you want to say?”
“Is there something else I should say?”
“That’s not for me to decide, Edward,” she said with a shake of her head. “I can help you come up with the questions, but the answers have to come from you.”
“I think this is it.” I looked up at her and tried to get some sort of read on her, but I never really could. “Am I fucking it up?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Okay,” I let out a breath. “This is it, then.”
Irina offered to take it and mail it for me.
She would understand, right?
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Chapter End notes:
Next chapter is coming up in just a few minutes. That will be it for tonight. I think at this point we’re very close to the end, and I believe I’m going to wrap it up right at chapter 100. Can you stay with me just a bit longer?
The twilighted thread has EXPLODED over the past couple of days. I have to admit, though I have only barely been able to keep up with it, the amount of passion some of you have for this characters is really overwhelming. Thank you!
