And this is chapter 3. Sorry it took so long. I had an argument with myself about the plot, and then there were just more important things in my life that writing fan fiction. But, phew, luckily that's over. :3

This one has a couple of warnings, unfortunately. Firstly, this chapter is the only one so far that I would rate 'Teen' for any reason other than language. This chapter has a very brief depiction of intimate, erotic behavior, what most would call sexual harassment. This is the only chapter that will have such a scene. I really don't think it's that big a deal, but I'm not all of you, so I don't know whether someone might be offended by that or not. Also, there is a special character in this chapter from New Orleans. So, naturally he speaks Cajun. Cajun is different from the actual French from France, but anyone who speaks the Parisian version should be able to understand the new character. For those who don't, I'll include a translation for everything he says at the end of the chapter for reference.

I was so happy to receive a few reviews after chapter 2, which both praised me and extended advice on my writing. Seriously, that warm, sizzling feeling I get when someone cars enough to review my work is one of my most cherished emotions. So, everybody else, don't be shy! Go ahead and click that 'review' button. You'll only make me happier! Oh, but NO flames whatsoever, or I'll get Miss Cleo to curse you with a fraud charge in a district court.

Summary: Edward left Bella during New Moon and her way of coping with the loss causes her to be hated by everyone in Forks, including herself. All she wants is to be with Edward again, but would he even want to look at her after everything she's done?

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or any of the characters in it.

A Capella Luctuoso

Dirty Dancing

My anger and subsequent depression after the incident with Arnold could only be worsened by what happened next.

After soothing Charlie's anxiety over my late return and poor condition, I'd spent the rest of the weekend in my room, moving from the bed to the computer. While in bed, I could only sleep, cry, or think about either my immoral life or the life I so wanted to return to.

Edward's name only stimulated a dull ache in my chest now, but even that pain was too unbearable for me to handle. I tried not to think about it, but it's pretty impossible to not think about my hero, my miracle, the only thing I've ever wanted to think about.

I hardly did anything at the computer, I mainly just argued with myself over if I should do anything. Occasionally I would work up a scrap of courage, just enough to type a word into the search engine and hit enter. "Cullen."

Just like with everything I searched, a million pages with possible matches showed up, none of them were what I wanted. I don't care about David Cullen the guitarist or Cullen and Dykman LLP, and I certainly didn't want to read about Frankie Cullen in "Hotel Erotica."

My fingers were always too slow; they couldn't ever manage to type 'Dr. Cullen,' or 'Carlisle Cullen hospital' before I lost my nerve and moved back to the bed.

Sunday and Monday (We had the day off for some holiday I don't care about) passed exactly like that. I guess that with those two melancholy days, something was bound to happen to me. I just never expected what.

It happened right after second period. I'd just dropped a few books off at my locker and stopped to get a drink of water when I saw him. There, right in the middle of the hallway, his back to me, wearing his favorite shirt, walking away with more grace than any dancer…

I could have been blind in one eye and still have recognized Edward from behind. His lithe form flowed like water around the packed hallway, avoided the other students like they weren't even there. I could spy his perfect white hands and neck, his strong arms and beautiful hair.

A fire was burning behind my eyes, tears already escaping. My heart nearly exploded, it was beating so fast. I opened my mouth to call out to him, but the joy scorched my throat, stole my voice. I could only manage a few rasping sounds, drowned out by some klutzy girl dropping all of her makeup.

I naturally did the only thing possible, I ran after him. I don't know whether the other kids were able to leap out of my way or if I just ran around them, but my path was unobstructed as I raced after him. He stayed a considerable distance ahead of me, but I was slowly gaining distance.

Suddenly, he started running, but it was still at a human speed. I was falling behind now, but I was somehow able to keep him in my sight as he ran into the boy's bathroom. My brain started spinning, since when did he need to use the bathroom? But my heart took over and pushed my legs on as I flew into the bathroom after him. A part of me was a little worried, a girl in the boy's restroom? But, hell, Edward was here! I'd follow him down a damn toilet!

The bathroom looked the same as the girl's, but with blue tile instead of red. Personally, I liked it a little better. Edward was standing at the far side, away from the stalls and urinals, facing a wall. "Ed…" I couldn't finish the name. He was right there, so close. If I took three more steps forward, I would have been able to touch him, but my feet were cemented to the ground.

He turned to face me, slowly, so slowly. He didn't move his body, just twisted his head around to stare at me with cold, hateful eyes. I started to choke on my own breath as his lips curled back to reveal his perfect white teeth. "Go away," He hissed, his bark full of more venom than his bite. "Don't talk to me ever again."

The world, the whole goddamn world, shattered into nothingness.

Edward wasn't there anymore. Instead, standing in his place, was Jacob, his big black eyes flooded with hurt. But then his face contorted with rage, and he punched me in the mouth. I'd collapsed to the ground by the time Mike appeared, giving me a sharp kick in the ribs. Then Eric, then Drew, Jon, Sam, Evan, Jared, Kevin… Every single boy I'd ever used appeared, his misery terrorizing my heart just before his anger attacked my body. Jeremy, Todd, Ben, Arnold…

I screamed, my voice ragged and broken up by coughing fits. "No! I'm sorry! Please stop! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to, I didn't-"

Something grabbed my shoulders and started shaking me violently. My eyes struggled to open (when did I close them?) and I saw the principal kneeling over me. I was in the boy's bathroom, lying on the floor, the school staff watching me worriedly while the students crowded around the doorway, trying to get a good look at me.

My face burned, my heart was racing and my breathing grew heavy. I passed out.

I must be going crazy; any half-wit could tell I'm just a few months away from a nice white jacket and an all-expenses-paid vacation to the loony bin.

Charlie couldn't see it for some reason, and he was fervent in his defense that I'd just had a seizure because of the fluorescent lights being too bright in the hallway. I knew better of course. Charlie had all but forced me to skip school the next day, and I didn't put up too much fake resistance. I wanted to be alone, to grieve the loss of my sanity, to beg Edward for his forgiveness, anything but feel those mocking eyes on my back all day long.

Arnold still haunted my mind, his face as I ripped apart his happiness and dignity. The dull ache in my chest was bearable, but it just wouldn't go away. I wanted to stay in bed forever. The warm blankets held no ill will toward me. They didn't hate me. That was enough for me to love them. But when I could no longer sleep, only lie awake in bed, my mind had the sick sense of humor to feed me wrenching images in my mind. I could be lying with Edward, his arms wrapped around me. I could curl into his chest and feel his cool breath on my hair. But when I opened my eyes, I wasn't.

I climbed out of bed, my hair a mess, wearing the same jeans and T-shirt I'd worn to school yesterday. I took a moment to work my belt back through the loops of my pants, and then slide the jeans off. Charlie was gone, and what use was modesty anymore?

I cut my fingernails, then my toenails, and then I filed both into perfect curves. I brushed my teeth, washed my hair and face, then I got dressed and sat down on the sofa. It'd been almost an hour since I'd gotten out of bed, and I was out of things to do. I began to grieve for Arnold; he was such a nice guy. Why did he have to get sucked up into my terrible little game? Why am I such a monster?

I wiped the tears from my eyes, but when did I start crying? My throat burned, I needed water, so I stumbled to the kitchen. The fire was building, scorching flames raced up my esophagus, no time to dig around for a cup; I simply stuck my head under the sink's faucet and turned the water on.

After putting out my throat fire, I stood back up. Big mistake. The world started spinning and I grabbed the kitchen counter to keep from collapsing when my knees suddenly gave out.

"What do you want from me?" I hissed, the fire already finding its way back to my throat. "What can I do to please you? I'd-" My vision blurred, my lip was trembling. I spent another twelve minutes kneeling on the icy tiled floor, crying.

I'd weakly returned to the couch, still sniffling. The fire had moved into my stomach, but the flames had cooled. My breathing was slowly returning to normal as I lay down and closed my eyes, willing the pain away.

I'd decided that my episode in the bathroom was just a side-effect from the guilt. I didn't hear any whisperings from the walls, no more hallucinations. Maybe I was just feeling so terrible, wanting so much to see him, I just…

I can't ever last too long without a sacrifice; I NEED someone to keep the pain away. The guilt I suffered over Arnold collected with the growing ocean inside of me, slowly eroding my sanity. I wanted someone new, but I was at a loss. Who was left?

Even if there were any boys left in my school, I could never return to them, not after Arnold. Those little kids were awkward, pubescent, and totally focused on getting into my pants. Just thinking about them made me sick. And Arnold had made me wary of going after any old guys. Maybe he was just a unique kind of gramps, but his brain zeroed in on a commitment, and a huge one at that. I didn't want ANY kind of commitment; I just wanted the hurt to go away.

I guess it's a good thing, then, that Arnold got away. I'd never be able to give him what he wanted. I'll console myself with that thought.

But now I'm stranded, in-between two pairs of teeth that want to either sex me up or marry me. I need some sort of compromise. I want someone who isn't focused on sex, but won't be immediately looking for a big commitment.

And then I got to thinking, Arnold did kind of jump to marriage pretty quickly. He was really old; maybe he's looking to marry the first girl who says yes, since he doesn't have much time left to find someone.

And then that led my stupid brain to believe that I could have a compromise. Guys who were almost twenty were too focused on sex. A guy who was almost forty was too focused on commitment. So, what if a guy who was almost thirty had the perfect balance?

It was tough to convince myself, I had a pretty good idea that guys were focused on sex no matter how old they were. I wasn't nearly as excited as when I thought to approach Arnold, but I was hopeful. I mean, hell, what else could go wrong in my screwed up life? Why not take a chance?

"My last chance…" I muttered. God, this really was my last chance.

Firstly, I had no idea where to meet guys. I tried going to a mall- all the way in Seattle- but the rare guy I saw there was either with some blonde bimbo or behind the counter of the Subway or Starbucks. The ONE I tried to approach asked me if I wanted to try some of his dad's whiskey, and then he got this creepy little look on his face.

I never was into guys all that much, I don't know where you go to get 'picked up.' The girls in Phoenix went on and on about their dates between bathroom stalls, but had never mentioned where they'd met. I spent six days wandering around towns, between cities, but nothing ever made me even slow down. All my hope was dwindling, and my pessimism started leaking back into my head.

It was completely by chance that I happened to take the scenic route home one day after school and spotted an unfamiliar building. I slowed down and pulled into the parking lot. Apparently, the grand opening of Fork's hottest new night club (I didn't know we had an old hottest one…) was Saturday. My stomach got queasy with the combination of irony and suspicion. This probably wasn't real, some evil demon bent on driving me insane probably built this, and then mind-controlled me into driving by it three days before it opened. It was probably watching me right now, wondering if I could see through its cheesy, overly convenient plot. Even the club's name sounded fake. Fantecstasy…

I asked Charlie about it when I got home that night. He was suspicious about why I was asking about the club, but he seemed contented when I told him that I was just curious. He was so easy to fool sometimes.

"Well, they started building it a few months ago, a bit after the Cul…" He paused, and I got the message. I'd missed it because I'd been way to far away from the world to care about something stupid like a nightclub. "You just have to be 18 to enter. Apparently, since the bouncers know everyone around town, no ID is necessary. As long as the bouncer knows you're 18 and the bartender knows you're not 21, you can get in." That was all he said in his disapproving tone of voice. Good old Charlie. No long, flowery explanation, just right to the point. I thanked him and went to my room.

I knew it was all a joke. Edward (Ow.) probably came back and saw the monster I am, then made the nightclub to confuse me and make me crazy. Maybe the club is a secret meeting place for non-vegetarian vampires like in that one movie with the Lestat guy, and they're just waiting for a stupid little snack to walk into their arms.

Or maybe it's God trying to give me a chance, even though I don't believe in Him. Maybe Charlie's been praying for me. Anyway, I'd already decided to take risks, going to a little nightclub in little Forks doesn't even register on my danger meter.

Well, with my decision made, I let my body do all the work to prepare for it while my mind sank further into turmoil without a guy for me to vent on.

Let what's coming to me come.

I decided not to go Saturday. Asking Charlie about the club, then disappearing the same night it opens would send out a warning flare in his parental mind. So, I tried to bear the terrible wait and go Sunday.

And boy, did I go all out. I took a moment to find a little cocktail dress Alice had dressed me up in once. It was… cute, I guess. A little too short for my taste, but it was the only thing I had that might be appropriate for a club. Renee's make-up mountain was included too, though only the lipstick. The problem was the shoes. I has boots and tennis shoes that WOULD NOT go with my outfit, or I could wear something from Prada with, like, 17-inch heels. I had a premonition of deep regret as I slipped the Prada heels on and left my room.

Charlie was sitting in the living room watching a game, and I was able to sneak past him to the door. "I'm going out, Dad." I called over my shoulder. He gave a quiet grunt before I closed the door and slipped over to my truck.

The drive was dull, and Steve the bouncer waved me into the club dismissively. He probably didn't expect much trouble from the daughter of the Police Chief.

The dance floor, which was pretty much the only floor, was fairly crowded. The walls buzzed as music blared out of several large speakers placed high up on the wall. Off in the distance, I could see a live band providing the noise. The flashing lights, red, pink, orange, were bound to give someone a seizure, so I made sure not to look directly at them.

I tried to fit into the dance, though all I could manage in my devil-spawn shoes was swinging my hips from side to side. When the creeps and losers started circling, I decided to head over to the area to the right of the bar, covered in shag carpeting and large, overstuffed couches. I reached a big red sofa and collapsed, already exhausted. I pulled off the shoes and started rubbing my sore feet. That's when I heard it.

"Tres belle…" I glanced up and locked eyes with a guy who, obviously trying to epitomize the phrase 'mysterious stranger,' had three beautiful girls crowded on a little loveseat with him. Clad in tight, black leather, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips, he smiled at me and stood up.

"Emile, don't go…" One of the girls cooed and rose to her feet, arms curling around the man- Emile's- neck.

He smiled a different, quirky little smile at her and removed her arms. "Leave me be, Lana. I have something to attend to."

Lana scowled. "Ah, you're going to do it again, huh? Maybe I should-"

"Tais toi!" He snapped, giving her a dirty look. Lana's face crumpled as she turned and started walking away. The man turned to the other girls who quickly shied away from him, eager to avoid his sharp tongue. "Mon Dieu, sa fini pas." He muttered with contempt before turning to me. "Hello, cherie. Comment ça va?"

I gave him an annoyed look, and he laughed. "What?" I asked, feeling hostile. My tone was pretty harsh, so he held up his hands defensively, but he kept that goofy grin on his face.

"Je regrette, I'm sorry, cherie. I seem to have been stunned by your beauty." Ugh, he talked in that awful Southern drawl; it really got on my nerves. "How are you? Need a hand?"

Before I could refuse him, he'd knelt down. After I DID refuse him, he still took my feet in his hands and started rubbing. "Oh…" I shut up and let the man work. It felt incredible, his hands caressed every little ache and pain in my feet until it'd changed into a warm, fuzzy feeling. I sighed in content.

Lost in my euphoric haze, he'd somehow gotten behind me and was working on my shoulders, after making a comment on how tense I was. He was just as talented with this kind of massage as he was with the last. Relaxation didn't even begin to describe the state I was in, my body just sort of melted wherever he touched into a soft, foamy mass.

In this relaxed state, I didn't notice the deadly glares I was getting from all the other girls in the club. I didn't find it strange at all when Emile started telling me about himself.

He was 27, from New Orleans, born and raised. Rich parents that didn't approve of his kleptomania and had lured him away from a life of crime into a never ending party. He'd moved to Forks on a whim to turn the town into something even a little interesting. So he'd built a nightclub and was already planning on a fabulous hotel.

Honestly, I really didn't care about his story; it was pretty boring to listen to him drone on about his big plans for Forks. He seemed pretty needy, an attention-whore for sure. But I was feeling so good… and I was already used to making appropriate oh's and ah's to keep people talking.

Somewhere, the massage stopped and he sat beside me, smiling. I opened my eyes, and surprisingly, discovered that I too was grinning subconsciously. When was the last time I did that?

That one thought sealed the deal. This man, Emile, who could make me smile without having to think about it, would be the next man I love.

We talked for a time, he mainly asked about me. At around one o'clock he glanced up at the still pumped crowd. "J'ai faim, let's get something to eat, cherie."I wanted to, God, did I. But now that he was a target, I couldn't seem too eager to get to Emile.

I smiled and in the sultriest manner I could, I stood and put my heels on. "Sorry, but I really need to get going. But, um, I'll stop by next weekend, okay? I'd like to get something to eat then, okay?" I asked in an uncertain voice. Emile was obviously a player, so maybe he'd appreciate me acting all insecure around him.

He sighed and pouted, but quickly grinned and nodded. "I'll be waiting eagerly, cherie." I started to leave when he called out to me. "Wait, s'il te plait." I turned to find him pushing through the crowd. "Excuse moi, m'selle, but you haven't even told me your name."

That caught me off guard, and I said without thinking, "Isabella Swan."

He smiled again, and took my hand in his. "Enchante, Bella." He pressed his lips to my hand before releasing me. With one last smile, he slowly walked backwards through the crowd. "I won't forget, Bella! Saturday! Je va te voir plus tard!"

I escaped from the club, my cheeks burning red as I headed toward my car. I mean, come on! What am I, some fairy tale princess? Definitely not, so why was the prince dumping Cinderella and Snow White for me?

But still, I discovered myself smiling once again, without my knowing. I sat in my car and realized my heart was pounding. Painful words like Edward and Cullen press futilely on the protective bubble that Emile has given me.

I laughed, really laughed, and then drove home.

The week was boring. Nuff said.

The only thing remotely interesting was my anxious excitement as Saturday drew closer day by excruciatingly long day.

I actually got scolded by my pre-cal teacher for not paying attention is class. I'd been too busy to listen to her, I was focused on doodling Emile's face in my notebook. The thought made me bubble with happiness. THIS is what my life should be like! I should be a happy, carefree girl who doesn't care about school work and thinks about her boyfriend all day long.

As I walked to my next class, my cheeks flushed at the word. Boyfriend. We'd only met once, as still, I was calling him… I laughed out loud, right there in the hallway. My body became a pincushion for curious eyes, and I laughed again and smiled. I took a pen out of my pocket and wrote something on the back of my left hand. Emile. Surrounded by a heart.

When Saturday did finally arrive, my heart was already fluttering at the thought of seeing Emile again. I had to put on a big trench coat to hide my outfit from Charlie, whom I'd convinced that I was going shopping for the Homecoming dance, which was still two months away.

I'd done myself up a little nicer tonight. I applied some lipstick and eyeliner in the car and then clumsily braided my hair into a ponytail. I once again thanked Alice for being such a busybody; otherwise I'd never have been equipped to go to a nightclub.

I pulled into a free parking space in the crowded lot and headed to the door, where Steve waved my in nonchalantly. A nice, warm feeling spread through my chest when I saw Emile standing at the bar, a happy smile lighting up his face as our eyes met. I made my way to him and opened my mouth, making sure to speak loudly enough so he could hear me.

"I'm sorry, were you waiting long?"

"Oui, but it's no problem, cherie." He dashingly led me back over to a couch and sat right next to me, his hand on my thigh. My cheeks began to heat up as we smiled at each other.

"Uh… This place is pretty packed, but I guess I can see why. This is a great club!" I complimented him, and he accepted it with no qualms.

"Merci beaucoup. Vous etes tres aimable." Twitch. My smiled lessened only slightly.

"I don't speak French. Do you have to talk like that?" I struggled to keep my tone joking, but it came out a little harsh. I didn't want him to get scared away or anything, but it was so annoying when he went off in his little 'everyone speaks French' world.

He laughed and gave me another dazzling smile, showing off his reasonably white teeth. "Je regrette, forgive me, cherie." I put on a pouty face, but nodded and let him offer my a drink. I sniffed it before taking a sip. Sprite.

"Yeah, it's fine. Just don't do it again." He laughed… again. So familiar. That attitude, laughing at everything I say like it's some kinda-funny joke. It reminds me so much of…

My shoulders slumped as the hurt flashed through me. I shook my head and took a big swig of my drink. "So, you're planning a hotel next? Where are you going to put it?"

"Bella," He said in a firm tone. "I'm really not that interested in talking about work. Not with YOU, anyway." Our eyes locked, his mouth quirked up on one side and his fingers laced with mine in my lap. He held out his free hand. "There's a beautiful statue in the back room, a miniature Venus de Milo. I'd love to show it to you." His hand grasped mine; he raised it to his lips and kissed the tips of my fingers.

The breath hitched in my throat, I nodded dumbly. In a daze, I let him stand me up, lead me through the crowd to a door and shut it behind us. My mind was still far away as he showed me to the statue, before wrapping his arms around me and pressing our lips together.

The warmth in my chest shot through the rest of my body and my heart spread it's wings like a phoenix. We pulled apart and he looked down at me, deep emotions shining in his eyes. He sighed. "Tres belle."

"Tres joli." I countered. I'd done a little research before our date. He gave me a wolfish smile, and our lips were locked together once again.

This time, his tongue snaked out and ran across my bottom lip, begging for entrance. I complied, and I actively participated in the tongue wrestling match for dominance. His hands ran down my back and cupped my butt, squeezed a little. I was used to this kind of thing from my other boyfriends, but I couldn't help letting out a little moan into our kiss.

But then he lifted up the bottom of my short dress and started fingering the seams of my panties. I pulled away, reaching behind to remove his hand. "What… What are you doing!?" I gasped out. He was surprised, his mouth hung open slightly. But he was quickly grinning again.

"Oh, I get it. Your first time, huh? Well, you don't have to worry at all, cherie, I'm very gentle with first-timers." His smile turned perverted and disgusting and I resisted the urge to gag. Instead, I merely backed away. He laughed at me! "Now, now. Don't act all innocent. I could see through your act from the very beginning. You try to come off all prim and proper, but all you want is a little screwing around. Come on, I'll teach you everything I know, and more, if you let me." He winked.

My beautiful, warm image of Emile shattered and was replaced with this gross, lecherous version. I opened my mouth, to try and call for help, but he pounced on me. He trailed kisses up and down my throat as he groped my breasts through the dress. I cried out, but not in panic. Rather, I was shocked as a sudden fire spread through my body. Everywhere he touched, a hot feeling just leaked through my skin. I gasped, then moaned. Then my eyes began to water.

I though about what Emile was doing to me, and what I was thinking about. My mind pictured Edward. His hands fondling my chest as his lips and tongue ran across my bare skin, making me shiver in pleasure. I saw him smiling at me with his beautiful, crooked grin. And then I saw that Edward was gone, and Emile was the one touching.

The nausea extinguished the fire that had been growing from my belly. Emile was touching me! Violating the places even Edward hadn't touched yet! Bile burned my throat and I struggled to fight of the rape guy, who only increased his efforts.

"Squirm all you want, cherie. I think it's pretty damn hot." Oh, God. How could I have ever liked this man? He was MUCH worse than those stupid seniors. He'd lifted my dress up again and pressed a finger between my legs, stretching the fabric of my panties.

I couldn't help it, I didn't want to. I wretched my self away from his and started puking all over the floor. He leapt back, cursing. "What the hell!?" I didn't pay any attention to him, I was more focused on the fried chicken pouring out of my mouth.

It wasn't as long as my usual vomiting fits. I kept throwing up for another minute before willing the rest of my food back down. Sometime, I'd fallen to my knees and now reclined back on them, looking up at Emile with fearful eyes. His face held a mixture of shock and embarrassment. The cruel part of my brain was cackling 'Yes, you really are that bad a kisser!'

Emile looked at me before walking back to the door and throwing it open. "Leave my club, don't ever come back." His voice was harsh, disgusted. I shakily stood and left. Somewhere behind me I heard him mutter, "Sa vaut pas la peine…"

I turned to see him walking back to the couch area. He pointed to that girl, Lana. "Viens ici." She smiled and immediately darted over to him. He picked out another girl at the bar. "Et toi." She joined him as well, and they sidled back into the smallest sofa available.

I turned away and ran back to my truck and went home, the tears freely falling.

I made it home early, but Charlie was still snoring in the recliner. I ran to my room, threw off all my clothes and stared at myself in the mirror. I still felt sick, the shame had pooled in my stomach, making me uneasy. The eyeliner I'd put on for Emile was smeared as I cried, I had to bite my lip to keep it from trembling. I turned and collapsed on the bed, curling into a tiny ball, wishing I could just get smaller and smaller until I disappear.

But what made me feel terrible, horrible, disgusting, was that my insides were still hot from the things Emile did to me. I touched my bare shoulder, my breasts, and gasped at the wonderful sensation that shook my body. I quaked under the guilt.

I covered myself up with the blankets and cried myself to sleep. This sickening thing I am, this pathetic shell, just became even more worthless. I'd been defiled by those ugly hands.

Please forgive me, Edward…

I stayed confined to my room all Sunday. I spent the whole time either sleeping, dreaming about what happened, and waking up from my dream and crying.

Charlie managed to get me in to school Monday, but during second period I went to the infirmary to lay down, where I stayed for the rest of the day. I was able to drive home okay, but I stopped still in the doorway.

Ever since that night, I'd been replaying in my mind everything that happened. I'd tried to ignore the hurt, the guilt, the shame, but it had massed together inside of me and finally burst. I retched and covered my mouth. I'm so disgusting. I ran upstairs and drew a bath of lukewarm water. I undressed and slid into the water, seeing in my mind how it filled me, washed over me and carried away Emile's touch.

As the water soaked into my soul, I thought about what was running through my mind as Emile assaulted me. 'Violating the places even Edward hadn't touched yet!' Yet. My stupid, stupid mind still thought that Edward would come back, still needed him to come back.

I'm such an idiot, he'll never come back, he made that pretty clear. Even if he did, he wouldn't touch me. I've ripped through boys and men, treated them like garbage and thrown them all away. Everyone hates me, I hate me. Edward, my Edward, my angel… He couldn't ever want me. I'm so filthy, so stupid, I just want to die!

But if I die… I'm going to hell for sure. I'll be trapped in a terrible place. A place where Edward will never be. The thought sent a ripple of fear through my bones. Even now, I know Edward exists somewhere on Earth. If I go to a place where he can't follow, to a place where I can't ever find him…

Everything has changed. I can't go back to my half-existence, feeding off the men I can ensnare. That life is over now. But this meaningless existence won't support me, won't give me incentive to keep on living.

Something has to change.

But what will change? You'll have to read the next chapter to find out! Here's the Cajun dictionary thing, in order from when Emile says it:

Tres belle – (feminine), Very beautiful; Tais toi – Shut up; mon Dieu – my God; Sa fini pas – it never ends; cherie – (f), beloved; Comment ça va – How is it going; Je regrette – I'm sorry; J'ai faim – I'm hungry; s'il te plait – please (the 'te' make it informal); Excuse moi - excuse me; m'selle – (short for mademoiselle) Miss; Enchante – Enchanted to meet you; Je va te voir plus tard – I'll see you later; Oui – yes; Merci beaucoup – Thank you very much; Vous etes tres aimable – you are very kind; Tres joli – (masculine) very pretty; sa vaut pas la peine – It's not worth it; Viens ici – come here; et toi – and you.

I can't really think of anything else to say except: Read and review! I hope you stick around for chapter 4 and beyond!

Next chapter: Unavoidable Mindset – Tough decisions, money issues, determination and devotion.