Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight. Nor any of the character. I know - It surprised me too...

This was beta-ed by lovely CheekyC - THANK YOU!

Chapter One: First step

"While there's life, there's hope."

Marcus Tullius Cicero


Here I am! Yapi yai!

I think ironically as I sit in a waiting room. For whom am I waiting for? My shrink.

As if my life couldn't suck any less. . .

"Angie, you can send the next client into the office now." Says a voice coming from the speakerphone.

Angela is my shrink's assistant, I assume. She doesn't answer however. Weird. She just winks at me, which takes me aback. And then she starts waving at me and pointing to the door. My eyes were now the size of tennis balls, I could feel it.

I am really trying here though, but I don't know what's going on. Does she want me to go inside? Is she dumb?

Whilst standing up from my chair I catch my reflection in the mirror on the opposite wall. I looked like . . . like what? Trash? Homeless? Or more appropriate – hopeless?

Yeah, that's me. Nice to meet you!

But I kind of feel proud about it. I haven't managed to look the same as I felt in a long time. I'd always wanted to master that.

Yeah, I am a weirdo. That's why I'm going to see my shrink now; isn't it?

No. That is not the reason.

I take a few steps and then open the door.

The sky! That's all I take in. I see only orange-pink. The color is flooding through the giant window. It's consuming every other color stupid enough to think it will overpower it. Wait a minute . . . it's not even a window. Wall of glass would be a more appropriate description. Is it bullet proof? I wonder. Maybe I could bring a rock next time and test my thought. Just to give it a try. I then start laughing at my own silly joke; how said.

Anyway. Where is my shrink?

With that thought I was thrown back into reality. He's sitting in a leather chair; his back towards me. Blocking the best part of the beautiful view. Admiring it himself from the first row.

You selfish bastard! But I can't take it ill from him.

"I would totally do that every day, and never get enough." I say comprehensively; at the same moment surprised by my sudden sincerity.

I see the turning of the chair.

Blue eyes consume the sunset.

"Oh, I am sorry. I totally spaced out." Says the blue eyes.

What? Eyes don't speak. But fuck . . . I can't see anything else. Just the blue eyes . . . blue, blue, blue, blue. Blue like . . . just like fucking swimming pool blue eyes.

"Are they even legal?" I ask.

What the fuck? Not only was that totally inappropriate, but cheesy as hell as well.

"Excuse me?" The eyes are speaking to me again. Oh yeah. Nice job honey. At the rate you're going he will definitely send you to the mental house straight away.

"Oh. I'm sorry. I guess I spaced out too . . .?" I am soo going to the mental house. . .

"What would you say to starting all over again?" Finally the lips are talking; now they're smirking.

"Yeah, that would be nice." I respond.

"I am Edward Cullen. And you must be Isabella Swan?" He asks as he reaches his hand out to me.

"Yep. Please call me Bella, Mr. Cullen." I shake his hand and silently follow the line of his muscles. There is hardly much room left for imagination. The t-shirt fits him perfectly.

He is at least a head taller than me. Has dark brown hair with a touch of read. A little shaggy. Hint of blush in his cheeks. And blue eyes . . . I melt a little bit.

"As you wish Bella. But remember you can call me Edward instead of Mr. Cullen. Whichever is more comfortable for you is okay with me." Blue eyes say and interrupts my flow of thoughts. I node stiffly.

I see, I am dumb too.

"So Bella, please sit wherever you feel to, and tell me how I can help."

I nestle myself on the sofa. Panic is washing over me. Panic. My best friend every time reality, or so called life, is brought to my attention. I play with the hem of my shirt. Realizing how interesting the floor can be.

What do I say?

My shrink answers my unspoken question.

"Let me ask you a question." I nod; my eyes glued to the floor.

"What do you expect from me? What are you looking for? What's your goal?"

"That's more than one question." I tell the floor bitterly.

"Feel free to pick one." He says with a hint of a smile.

I lift my head up and speak to the blue eyes.

"I want you to fix me, to change me." He is watching me warily.

"I don't have a magic wand like Harry Potter to charm you, though I wish I did. . . You are the only one who can change yourself. I can lead you. I can show you the ways. I can show you different viewpoints. But you, and only you, can be the one to actually do things, to act, to change yourself. You are the one responsible for your own happiness. Nobody can do it for you, because nobody can, if you don't participate. The sooner you accept this fact, the easier it will be for you."

Well, that was nice. Grrrh. I wonder whether somebody had jumped from that wall/window before. I wouldn't be surprised actually.

"And don't give me that look; I didn't make you come here. If you are not willing to be active, I won't waste my time with you." I watch, wide eyed, as blue eyes is speaking. My eyes pop out of my head.

"Fuck you!" I spat at him.

Oh fuck, did I? I did.

"I am sorry. I didn't mean that." I speak to the floor . . . again. I am afraid we will be on first name terms as well.

"I don't mind, not really. I would like you to be completely honest with me. I want you to discard your brain filter, or whatever you call it, the minute you cross my doorstep. As you can see, or hear, I am honest with you as well. And there is no worse thing than to lie to me. Otherwise this whole thing would be pointless and a waste of your money and my time." I watch him, still wide eyed. Adding an opened mouth to my psychotic appearance for a while. I compose myself after a while. But all I master is- "okay."

"So, will you be willing to actively contribute to our sessions?" He asks me with a smirk playing on his lips.

WTF is with this shrink?

"Yes, I will." I say bitterly.

"Then tell me, whom do I owe the pleasure of meeting you?"

Do all shrinks have split-half personalities?

My mind takes me to the answer of his question as well. To the deal breaker. My mom. And suddenly it is all happening again.

I am in the bathroom; looking at the pills in my hand. So many. So colorful. Though I can't appreciate the sight too much. I can't see well through the waterfall of my tears. But I could see enough. Enough to know that the amount would be able to stop the pain. The pain that was killing me slowly anyway. Day by day I am dying. So why couldn't I quicken the process, push it a little but so as the pain would fade sooner. Seconds after, my mom's screaming makes its way into my consciousness.

"Bella! Don't do that! Pleaaaase?"

I can hear the desperate struggling for air in between her crying and shouting at me. I feel sorry for her. But soon the feeling is gone. I am doing this for me. I am cold again.

"Don't do that to me! You can deal with it! I promise!"

All the noises are accompanied by loud banging on the door. I am a bit annoyed. Dying in the middle of this? I would have appreciated a less disturbing environment. She is not strong enough to break through. It will soon be over. Calm washes all over me instantly. Soon. Over.

That feeling doesn't last long though.

In the next second she has broken through the door with a hammer in her hand. Damn it. I hadn't thought about that. She sees me. The hammer is falling from her hand. It breaks the tiles as it makes contact. Seconds after she is standing in front of me. Crushing my lungs by hugging me so tightly.

"Until your heart stops beating Bella, I'll be here, fighting for you."

She looks up into my eyes. Her eyes are red. She is not angry. I am surprised. There is only determination. The look of a mother fighting for the life of her child. It breaks another piece of my already broken heart. I didn't expect there to be another part of me that wasn't already broken from his death.

I drop the pills. Defeated. I squeeze her tightly. I am like a child terrified from the midnight storm. Trying to become one body with her again. But I am a grown up now. I know it's not an option.

"I will go to therapy." I whisper.

I curl myself up in her embrace. She let me. I listen to her heartbeat. She plays with my hair. I am silently crying. She is singing my lullaby.

Broken on a bathroom floor. Listening to her soft voice. I was a child again. Protected by my mother's love. Love so strong that it gave me life . . . for the second time.

"My mom." I answer and tell him the story.

His blue eyes turn glassy. I don't notice that. I am desperately avoiding his gaze while speaking. I finish. He takes some time to steady his voice. I don't notice that either.

"You see. That's what I mean. I don't want you to be here because you want your mother to be happy. I want you to be here because you want to be happy. You owe yourself at least that much."

I knew what he meant. In that bathroom, it was my mom fighting my own battle. For me. Instead of me. She was fighting my war though she knew that it would not be enough to win. That it would not end without my help. Without my willingness to fight for myself.

"I do." I say. "I do want to be happy again. Or at least I want to not feel miserable all the time."

His expression change. A huge smile spreads through his face.

"It will be my pleasure to help you with that." Smiling blue eyes say. I am glad.

"In the time we have left today, I would like us to work on our treaty."

"Treaty?" I ask. "Like contract?"

"Yes." He says with that smirk again. "So we both know what the aim of our sessions are, and most important, how we will know we gained that goal."

"That sounds good."

"Okay. So you said you want to be happy and don't want to feel miserable. How would you do that? What will be the signs of the fact that you're happy and not feeling miserable all the time?"

Here it goes again. Nobody told me it would be hard like this. It's our first session. Shouldn't it be like the first day at school? Light and easy? Get to know each other? My life hates me. So I guess the answer would be no!

"Let me think. . ." I demand. How would I know? I just would. How's that for a question. People just know when they do not feel miserable. Don't they? I do. I wake up in the morning, and the first through is - just let me die.

And so I got the answer.

"In the morning, when I wake up, I would smile. I would look forward to the day. I would not be terrified of what the day would bring. I would not feel pain. I would not feel the hole in me."

It was not so hard after all.

"Great, that's good. I can work with that." But suddenly his smile falls.

"There is one last thing that you have to promise me though. You told me you tried to kill yourself. I need you to make a conscious effort to keep yourself safe. You have to promise me you will not try to do that again." He looks at me expectantly.

"I won't." I say like a child caught stealing candy from the cupboard.

"I need you to promise me that, out loud and sincerely." He says authoritatively. I look up into his eyes.

"I won't try to commit suicide again while I am attending your sessions." I promise those deep blue eyes. He watched me warily. As if I could lie to them. Ever.

As if reading my thoughts his expression softens. A little smile appears on his face again.

"I'll do everything I can, but I would appreciate a little help from you. I know it seems rough for the first session, but I want to be honest with you. As I said earlier I do treasure my time too much to waste it for somebody wanting my help anyway. But I am satisfied with today's flow, so I am looking forward to meeting you again." He asked my hand.

"Please make sure Angela gives you the date and time of our next appointment."

I see only the back of his leather chair again. The same view as when I stepped in here an hour earlier. But there was a difference. The night had fallen down upon the sky.

"Oh. Okay, see you." I say perplexed. I leave my first session. The same but different. Hope has found its way to my life again. Though I don't know yet.



(Next day)

"I wish you a lovely day. Edward Cullen speaking." I say cheerfully.

"Oh." Says somebody with . . . a sigh? I play my part thoroughly.

"With whom do I have the honor of speaking to?" I ask with a chuckle.

"Are you always like this? Because if you want to keep me alive, you are not helping me with that attitude, at all!" The voice speaks bitterly. I can't resist and start laughing. The voice doesn't.

"Isn't that Miss Swan speaking? I am sorry, but I hardly believe my good mood will ruin your day. But I appreciate the fact that you are not using your mouth filter even while calling!"

I laugh again. I know it isn't professional of me, but I just can't help myself. I can't get rid of that smile. Can't get rid of the good mood. If only she knew it was because of her.

"I am sorry Bella, I will behave. I promise. Is there a reason or problem for which you are calling?" She sighs again.

"Yes, when I left the other day, I forgot to make the appointment."

"Yes, Angie left early that day. But we can solve that in a minute, let me see. . ." I scan my calendar.

I want to see her in the sunset light again. She was so beautiful. Her brown hair was literally shining. She had some color in her face from that light too. If only she could look a little healthier. Not so skinny. Not so lifeless. I bet she looked stunning before. . . And the eyes. So deep. I could swim in them.

But the sunset makes her happier too. Or less miserable. At least I got that feeling. So it won't be purely selfish after all. I shake my head in disbelief.

What am I? Five?

"What about next week, same time?" I offer.

"That sounds good for me." She says.

"Great. Try to think about at least one thing you can do to feel at least a tiny little bit less miserable. Can you do that?"

I hear a loud sigh, again, and . . . nothing?

Is she nodding?

"Bella you do know that I can't see you, right?" I chuckle. It is just stronger than me.

"Yeah, I do. Yeah, I can give it a try Mr. Cullen. Bye." Without waiting for a response, she just hangs up.

All of my clients did have a problem with the way I am. So honest. So straight forward. Not working with them with white gloves on. But everyone admitted at last that it was much more beneficial, than harming after all . . .