Disclaimer: I do not and will never own the twilight series or its characters, no matter how badly I want to. Even though I use some quotes from the books, doesn't mean I own it.

A/N: This is my first fan fic, and I hope you like it. My story takes place in New Moon after Edward leaves Bella. When I read New Moon, I always thought that Bella didn't rebel enough. I also thought that she didn't really grow that much as a character and she forgave Edward way to easy. So one day I heard this song called, "Nobody Knows" by Keith Sharp and then Bella kept speaking to me telling me to write my version of what I think should of happened. So that is what I am doing. This story will be dark and it will be that way for awhile, till Edward shows up and earns Bella's forgiveness, then light will shine through. Not all chapters will be in a journal style format, there will be dialog at some point in the story. I rated this story M because it does have drugs, partying, self cutting, alcohol and sex. So please if you are sensitive do not read. So enough with my authors note, now enjoy the 1st chapter.

March 2006

Dear Journal,

So, I have to write in this stupid thing. The psychologist insisted I write in it to "heal me," like that will ever happen. I wish I could tell her all about why I am so heart broken (that word doesn't even begin to cover what I am). How my boyfriend…I mean ex-boyfriend, was a vampire and how he will always be the love of my life even though he doesn't love me anymore and how he thinks I am just supposed to forget about him and his family just because I am a human, like that will ever happen. How can I forget the one person who ever made life make sense? But I can't tell her he's a vampire or anything because how can I talk about him if I can't even say his name? I know, why see a psychologist if I don't intend to talk to her? That's easy to explain. See, after he left me in September, I sort of "blanked out." I don't remember anything except for my mom showing up to take me home and I yelled "NO!" Then she left. The next thing I know, the fog slowly lifts and I can sort of piece together the days. But that's not why I was forced to see Dr. Dougall; No, Charlie made me see her because he walked in one day when I was, venting my frustrations. See I sort of started using sharp objects to release some of this pain, I couldn't take it anymore. So the next thing I know, I'm using a razor blade on my thighs. It helps, not that anything will ever completely piece me back together again. How can I be complete when the glue that held me left me? I will always remember that day, it haunts every breath I take. I always knew I wasn't good enough for him, but knowing and him confirming are two separate things.

He said those words that I always knew would come sooner or later; I just never truly believed they would. "Bella, I don't want you to come with me." When I repeated what I heard, "You…don't…want me?" he confirmed it with a "No." When I heard that simple one word answer, the bottom to my world fell. I was left with no air, no reason to live, so I did the only thing I knew to do, so that I could survive, I went inside myself. To my happy place and I stayed there till even there they kicked me out and when I looked at the calendar, it was February. I didn't know what to do; it hurt so much. Even with my arms wrapped around me to try to hold myself together. I t used to work, kind of, but now that wasn't working any longer. So when I stumbled upon a razor blade in the bathroom, I sat on the toilet seat lid and cut a nice gash in my thigh. The pain washed over me and drowned out the ache in my heart for awhile. Physical pain, I could handle. It's the emotional that is too much for me. So, I did that every time the ache became too much and my arms no longer worked in holding me together. I did it for weeks, then one day when I was trying to stop the bleeding, Charlie had come home early and walked by the bathroom. I didn't shut the door, thinking he wasn't going to be home for another hour or so. I was wrong. He saw the blood and freaked! He rushed me to the hospital, even though I insisted it was nothing. From there, the doctors saw the other cuts and explained to Charlie that I was a "self cutter" and needed help. So here I am now, writing in this stupid journal as a request to Dr. Dougall. She says she won't read it unless I want her to, but I still have to write in it as a way to deal with my feelings in a different way than cutting. She doesn't know this but I still cut, I am just extra careful when I do. I have no desire of getting that pity look from people that I got when word got out of my latest recreational activities. I will never be whole again, and I refuse to give up the one thing that helps dull a little bit of the pain.