Edward left after I had finished my homework. Of course, unknown to Charlie, his absence was only temporary. Sometime tonight, probably during my shower, he would come through my window and spend the night with me.

I stepped into the hot water and tried to relax. The soothing stream got me halfway there. My tense muscles unknotted and that relieved my body, but my mind was still working furiously.

Edward was going to talk with me about cutting. I felt like such a baby for having to discuss this – with him in particular. For one, he was my boyfriend and the reason for my cutting. Secondly, he was a vampire. To top of the embarrassment, he had some sort of surprise for me. What was I going to say?

The frustration and unease of the fast-approaching situation brought the painful memories of those months when I was alone. The onslaught of images resulted in tears and a fresh wave of hurt. The hole, months in the making, opened up again as the thoughts of loss threatened to take over once more.

More tears formed and fell down my cheeks to mix with the still-warm water of the shower. I could taste the saltiness on my lips as I reached for the razor that was just inches away. Holding the handle as steadily as I could, I brought the blade to the middle of my forearm and pressed it in.

The skin broke in one smooth line and blood trickled out. I didn’t care if Edward was here or not. All that mattered was the sweet release. Thankfully, the rusty smell floated along with the steam, away from my senses.

Unlike what I read to be others’ reasons, I didn’t do this for the pain. The first time was merely to see if it worked. The many times following was simply an addiction. It was a way to tear my mind away from the haunting thoughts of Edward.

Cutting never helped. It hurt me, and refocused my attention only for a short while. The action never brought worthwhile relief or comfort. In the end, it only left a scar to remind me. And the memory only prompted me to cut again. It was a vicious, never-ending cycle, and I was still trapped.

Of course, I often tried to justify my actions. The cutting was a visual release; or so I told myself. The hole that had formed with Edward’s absence had no way to release or scab over. Each new cut represented that visual and convinced me I was getting better.

Deep down, I knew I wasn’t. With Edward back, that knowledge was forced to the surface. I was whole and complete, yet I continued to cut. What justified my actions now?

“Bella?” Edward’s caring, soft voice floated to my ears. It startled me; I hadn’t heard him enter.

Now I realized the choked sobs ringing in my ears. My crying drowned out even the steady beat of water hitting my back.

I moved to return the razor and turn off the shower. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw five pale fingers wrap around the edge of the curtain to pull it aside.

A rush of cold air hit my back and I shuddered involuntarily before a dry towel was wrapped around my bare body. Two strong arms found their way around my waist and pulled me into a seated position on Edward’s lap. I buried my face into his chest and continued crying.

We sat there for what could have been half an hour. He never said a word, choosing instead to comfort me by stroking my hair and rubbing my back. My eyes eventually grew dry but the sobs never ceased.

When my tired self was hiccupping more than crying, Edward picked me up and carried me to bed. I lied down and curled up into a ball while he went back for my pajamas.

“Get dressed, love,” he whispered seconds later. “I’ll be right back. I promise.” He left a quick kiss on my forehead before disappearing out the door again.

I dressed quickly, tossing the towel into the far corner, and crawled into bed. Edward lay next to me a moment later.