Overall Summary: Edward had left, knowing Bella would be better off left alone from the vampire world, and he moved away from Forks, hoping it wouldn't be so bad for him. He was left with a world of possibilities, but he felt that there was too much room to think about anything, and he was afraid that he would think about Bella too much. His plan was to move back into another inconspicuous town, restarting school again, just so his thoughts could center on something, but Bella's returned to his life. He soon finds out that Bella's not the same, and though he's close enough to her for his dead heart to beat again, Bella's last experience with Edward left her unrecognizable, changed forever. Edward's willing to turn her into a vampire so that she could save herself, but not even that could persuade her to transform her lifestyle. Will her double life catch him tied into the ropes of love again?

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Chapter One: The Difference Is You

EPOV

Jezebel High was an incredible place—people might actually die from boredom here. The first day of school was supposed to be the highlight of the rest of the year, but it was as interesting as a bar of soap. Even Forks had a little pizazz…

I hate the freshman. I could hear the identical thoughts of everyone's head, always the same thing, each and every year. Cullens this, Cullens that; what a bore.

Especially the thoughts of my so-called siblings; Rosalie is catching a glimpse of herself in every open locker door in the hallway, Emmett is thinking about catching a wild grizzly bear, and how hot Rosalie's breasts look in the outfit she's wearing, Jasper's cursing the humans for their delectable aroma, and Alice is always watching out for Jasper's future, wondering if we'd be able to stay in the town of Jezebel (local nickname: Jez) long enough to graduate, unlike our last high school, due to my own decisions for the entire family.

Sometimes I wished Jasper would just do it. Get it over with. I know he can already feel my need for excitement (along with my desperation and melancholy and heartbreak, and adding to that, my loneliness); I'm just too lazy to even bother myself.

It's the second week of school and we still have new student recruits. One came all the way from Florida—what a drag he must think Oregon is—and another from… well, I wasn't paying attention. All I knew was that there was only one empty seat in my senior English class (even though I was a junior yet again), and the poor sap would occupy it whenever she decided to show up. Again, my mind was in no mood to pay attention to useless information like this.

It reminded me of the girl who ended up with me in my biology class, and how it turned into the greatest, most precious moments of my life. I wondered what Bella was doing now…

Immediately, I eliminated those thoughts from my head. I had forbidden myself to think of anything from my second former life, not counting my first, which was when I was actually human, but the memory hazy and forgettable.

Fourteen minutes, ten seconds, and eighty-six milliseconds—yes, I was actually counting—after the bell rang, there was a shy, modest knock on the classroom door.

The biology teacher opened it and welcomed in a girl wearing a pink floral dress, white sandals, pearl bracelets, strawberry lip gloss, and a matching pink headband. I wondered how she stayed dry outside, but I noticed her putting away her white umbrella in the corner behind the door she entered from.

Immediately, all the faces of the girls in the school that she would fit in with flashed through my mind. Soon enough, she'd be just like one of them, one of the monotonous, boring, ordinary girls in this school.

I looked away and tried to focus in on my own thoughts, hoping it would forbid the thoughts of the jealous girls or the perverted creeps in the room from entering my head. I was quite adept in ignoring people's thoughts nowadays, and I did it proudly. I didn't even have time to scrutinize the new girl's face—I just didn't care. She wasn't important.

"Hello, class," she presented, her tone sweet as honey. It made me want to hurl, even though there was nothing in my body to regurgitate. "My name is...," she began, and then I tuned her out.

IPOV

This was all bullshit.

I was tempted to itch my body, to rip off this horrible-ass dress, wipe off the stupid liquid substance on my lips, crush these ugly shoes, but more importantly, burn this fake smile off my face. I had been smiling all day; I was worried it wouldn't come off once I escaped this wretched prison of a school.

It better fucking come off, I thought as I idled into the room.

"Hello, class. My name is Isabella Swan." Whose voice was this, coming out of my mouth? Oh, right, it was mine. I had to get used to this disgustingly honey-toned voice that I used.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Isabella," said the teacher, smiling at me like a fucking retard.

I wish I could say the same for you, jackass, I wanted to say, but I bit my lip to hold it in. He looked like a jackass, what with his idiotic smile; it's hard not to think of him that way.

I nodded and he led me to my seat. Immediately, I saw a boy, looking elsewhere, surrounded by his own thoughts in the chair next to mine.

Looking at him forced a very dreadful feeling over me that consumed my every emotion, my every movement. I could see the corners of my eyes blackening out, the walls caving in, the floor shaking underneath me. I could feel an earthquake in my chest, a flame on the soles of my feet, giving me a signal.

Run, I ordered myself. Run and never come back.

The boy was Edward Cullen, the reason my recent life was spent past out on a stranger's floor, the reason hell welcomed me with open arms, the reason misery was my best friend, the reason my life was better now that he had left it for good.

The weight of the butterfly pin that was attached to my pink dress began to slowly knock me to the floor. Fuck Renée and her insecurities. That bitch suddenly thought she owned me and made me wear a tiny, unnoticeable camera disguised as a pin so she could control my actions. One slip and I would go straight to juvy. Or rehab. And I wanted none of that.

She would be reviewing my day while I slept—or while she thought I slept—and if I did one thing that she considered "inappropriate," my ass was gone. And damn that Phil, supporting her decision in this. I used to think he was okay, but fuck me and my misjudgments. I'm glad the little league baseball thing didn't work out well with him.

It all started with Charlie—that prick. My alcohol consumption was no problem until he found out about it. Then he went crying to Renée that I was an out-of-control teenager, destroying my perfectly lived life, but that plan backfired on him. Renée thought he was unfit to house a teenage daughter, so she decided to take me into her custody.

I saw a great opportunity to get as much distance between Forks and me, but my misconduct and rudeness made Renée pleased with the idea that staying in Forks would be a great part of my punishment.

And all the times I swore at her, stormed out of the house, got caught with vodka, made a run for it, or came back extremely hung over, did little help for me with trying to win back her trust so that we could bolt out of Washington and stay the hell away for good.

But nooo. The only thing Renée was good at was demeaning Charlie, screwing with my life, and fucking Phil.

The only reason we weren't in Forks now was because I got expelled for coming to school drunk, one month ago. But Oregon wasn't far enough away from Forks—still too close to the memories that I had once treasured.

Now Renée's got me learning manners and etiquette shit, like she'd done in the past to help her become a part of the Forks Etiquette Society; where they have their prissy tea parties and mingle with gay men they secretly hoped were straight. She wanted me to be as presentable as possible for my first day of school. What a joke.

If I didn't comply with her dumbass rules and pretend I was a recovering alcoholic, any tiny bit of comfort I had with my life now would be disrupted and taken away forever.

I took in a deep breath and cleared my throat. I wouldn't let Edward bother me; he wouldn't have any control of my life anymore, it was my life to do whatever I wanted with. I wouldn't depend on him for my every breath. I was a fool to do that in the first place. But I won't do it again.

I took a seat, my posture straightened. Not greeting the bastard in the most polite way would result in Renée marking it off in her little black book, and I would be that much closer to living in a facility talking to addicts about their problems.

"Hello, there," I started, showing another one of my fake smiles to the boy next to me, trying hard not to grit my teeth. "May I ask your name?" Renée had forgotten what Edward looked like, so she wouldn't notice him sitting next to me when she watched the video; she wouldn't realize she was looking at the boy who was the cause of my lifestyle turning a drastic 180 degrees.

He didn't look over at me yet, his expression dull and emotionless as he stared out the window. I was actually grateful for that. The less I had to do with this stranger, the easier it would be to sleep at night—with a little help from my bottled friend.

And then time passed by.

The closeness we were sharing was starting to bring me to the edge. It felt like I was in a nightmare, and there were no drinks to console me and numb away this intensity. Edward and I—I could barely get those three words to slip gracefully out of my thoughts—were different then, but now, we couldn't be more unalike. He stayed perfectly the same, undeterred from his departure, while I was struggling to sneak out every night so that I could consume, at best, a bloody sip from a cup, following anyone who could get me my beverages.

How long would it be till the bell would ring away this unbearable, awful dream?

I rolled my eyes, thankful the camera was in no position to see my facial expressions. I turned my body toward the front of the classroom, yearning for a familiar sensation to thrust down my throat with a fire, to wash away the dreary illusion I've just encountered into peaceful unconsciousness.

EPOV

The girl next to me, her body overly showered with sweet, sickening perfume, I couldn't even distinguish her true scent, turned away when I failed to respond to her casual salutation. Though I had no vision of her face, I could already imagine her perky smile, glorious and sparkling, dropping into an easy grimace. The brightness in her eyes would gloom and sadden her stare.

She was clearly disgruntled by my lack of response, and I expected to hear millions of angry thoughts forming in her head that would conjoin with her expression. She would think how much of a jerk I seemed to her, what she had done wrong to offend me (maybe she was a people-pleaser, who cares?), why I wouldn't answer her, and so on.

I prepared myself for the rude words she would exercise, though as happy-going as she seemed to give off by her wardrobe and her annoying, uplifting voice; I prepared myself for the thoughts that helped form that look upon her.

But that's when I finally realized: this girl's thoughts were not in my head.

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