“Bella?” Are you sick? Open this door.”

I wiped my mouth and cringed at the smell lingering in the room. If she came in here she’d know exactly why I was ill.

“I’m fine, mom. Just give me a sec and I’ll be out. To make sure she left the hallway so I could rinse out the wastebasket, I added, “Can I have some toast?”

I waited until I could no longer hear her footsteps then grabbed the evidence of my stupidity and ran to the bathroom.

The shower helped some, but my head was still screaming at me despite the handful of Advil I’d tossed down my throat. The make-up hid the rest, but I still looked like shit. I think it had more to do with my nightmare than my drinking. If drinking led me to dream so vividly about Alice, then I’d never do it again. I swear for a minute there, I’d been almost certain that Alice had actually tracked me down and stood in my room, but that was completely ridiculous. They didn’t care if I lived or died, she certainly wouldn’t have wasted her time checking on me.

I threw on the first outfit I came across and was about to leave when my diary caught my eye. I’d left it under my pillow but now it was resting on top of my white nightstand. No one had been in here last night, just me. Renee couldn’t have gotten in otherwise she wouldn’t have been banging on my door this morning.

I moved in slow motion across my floor and picked up the book, opened it, and allowed the pages to flutter to one side looking for some evidence. I don’t know what I was expecting, but there was nothing to find. I slammed it shut and caught the sweetest scent. It reminded me of the Cullens. I fell onto my bed still clutching the book breathing in deeply. She’d really been here last night. She’d sat right here on my bed and read my journal; it was thick with her fragrance. And I’d kicked her out.

I threw the book in the newly scrubbed trash can and slammed my door shut. I was so desperate to believe that I mattered to them that I was making myself believe that I could smell Alice. Perhaps me leaving the mental hospital had been hasty. As I climbed into Phil’s car, I debated confessing all of this to Dr. Turner. I wanted to feel whole again, and if that meant telling this man that I was hallucinating, then so be it.