You wake up, surrounded in a broken bed, and feathers from a ripped pillow. Your memory comes quickly, the remainder of what happened last night taking up all your thoughts. You pad out of the bedroom, standing in front of the mirror and glancing at yourself.

Edward interrupts your thoughts. "How badly are you hurt?" He comes up behind you, running a hand over your arm. "What?" He rolls your sleeves up, staring at the bruises. You sigh, yanking your sleeve down and burying into him. "No, look." He whispers, moving your hair to the side and pulling your shirt down slightly, revealing really dark hickeys and bruises.

"I can't tell you how sorry I am." He turns away, walking into the kitchen. You hesitate, before following after him. "I'm not. Really I'm not, I'm fine."

"Don't say you're fine. Just don't." He sits down, exhaling. "Don't ruin this—" "I've already ruined this." You sigh "Why can't you see how perfectly happy I am? It was good. I thought it was amazing.'' He pauses at your words, looking up. "That's what you're worried about? That I didn't 'enjoy myself'?"