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Disclaimer: Twilight = not mine.

A/N: Dark-ish chapter. More angsty.

WORTH NOTICING – YOU HAVE TO READ THE FLASHBACKS IF YOU WANT ANSWERS TO YOUR QUESTIONS. I do some more revealing/explaining in the flashbacks.

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Flashback (California)

James stood with his back against the door of his signature black, beat up car. He flicked his cigarette once before putting it back between his lips and hollowing his cheeks. He grinned sideways at me as the puff of smoke came out between his lips and mingled with the flame on the cigarette. The flame I was staring at.

I sat with my back against the wheel of his car, sighing as the smoke rose and disappeared into the night. James flicked his cigarette again. I continued wrapping the cuts on my hand with the strip of fabric I ripped off my shirt. I sniffed, my nose still numb from the scuffle.

"What are your feelings on Turkey?" he asked suddenly, looking up at the sky. I wiped my bloody brow with the back of my sleeve and blinked up to the sky where he was watching.

"The animal or the country?" I replied gruffly.

"Country."

"I never thought about Turkey."

"Well, I'm asking you to think about it now you stubborn bastard."

"Why the hell would I think about Turkey?"

"Do you wanna go there someday?"

"Not particularly."

"Okay, damnit, that's all I needed to know! God. If you didn't have frickin' fists of fury, I'd drop your weepy ass, d'you know that?"

I scoffed with a smile, rubbing my split knuckle and hiding my cringe when it stung. I squinted up through the hair that was flopping over my face.

"Why do I feel like I'm just a tool in this big scheme of yours?"

"Because you are," James said simply, finishing his cigarette, dropping it on the sidewalk, and rubbing it in with his toe, "Now, if you're finished kissing your boo boos, we gotta scram before they figure out we're here."

"What? Why? You think they called the cops?"

James didn't answer except with a sigh, walking around the front of the car to get to the driver's side as he looked up at the sky again. I huffed, wiping my brow again, coughing, and scrambling to my feet before James ditched me again. Patience wasn't one of his strong traits.

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I blinked at the map in the little, metal, turn-able display of vacation spots. Turkey. I looked over my shoulder before turning back to the little brochure. I wouldn't admit to why I was recently transfixed with looking at brochures, though I pretty much could guess it had to do with the box I received yesterday that I hid under my bed.

Brochures. God, I forgot how much I hated them.

I had a headache. In fact, I've had a constant headache since yesterday. The pills looked mighty tempting, but I was afraid I'd down the whole bottle.

Along with that, the headache was paired with constant flashbacks of Chicago summers and Elizabeth's smile. I didn't know why I was thinking about James. He didn't have anything to do with the Neverending Needle Society. Maybe I was just finally going crazy?

Alice didn't work the Sunday morning shift. She went to Church with her father, as did Bella. Jasper, however, was keeping me company by hanging around here. He didn't have anything better to do without Alice, anyway. Still, he was a good source of testosterone in my world full of estrogen.

Maybe the overdose of womanly friendship was the reason I was so emotional and flashback-y lately.

I rubbed my brow and then caught the motion, stopping it before shoving my hands in my pockets.

It was quiet, because it was Sunday morning and this was a pious town. And all the little children who stick lollipops on my clothes go with their parents to church on Sunday morning. Why else do you think I took this shift?

"What the hell is this?"

I turned around to see Jasper staring at some kitchen appliance. It looked like an electric mixer, the kind that was two mixing spoons that electrically turn themselves. Being able to identify kitchen appliances, I realized that I needed to go do something manly. Maybe go punch a wall. Or blow up a car. You know, the things I'm good at and stuff.

"It's a dildo," I deadpanned with a nod, turning away from the display of vacation spots. I noticed Sheryl, a cranky middle-aged woman, with the striped pants, bad nose job, and fake looking blonde hair glaring at me from the check-out counters. I guess she was pissed that she had to handle the one and only customer here today. She's lazy. Almost as much as I am.

It's okay, though, because I know she has a crush on Jasper. So all will be forgiven if I just get Jasper to flash that toothy grin at ol' Sheryl.

"Really?" Jasper gaped, scrunching up his face and looking at the metal monstrosity, "Damn. It looks like it would hurt like a bitch if you stuck it up your vagina."

"Some girls like it rough," I said with a shrug, walking over to him. He had scuba goggles on his forehead and a bright red fanny pack clipped onto his belt.

"Are you buying those?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Why? Should I get Alice the dildo instead?"

"Yes," I replied immediately. He considered this and I had to turn away so he wouldn't see me grinning.

"Hey, man," Jasper said as he inspected the 'dildo', "No guys hit on her at school, right? No one I need to worry about…?"

"Guys?" I repeated, "No. Most of the guys are afraid of Alice…."

"Good," Jasper laughed, "And I know I don't need to worry about you, Romeo."

"Yeah, I'd never hit on Alice. She'd slap me. Or stick something sharp and painful up my nose."

"Probably. But that's not why I'm not worried."

I raised an eyebrow at him, urging him to elaborate.

"Oh, come on," Jasper laughed, "You honestly think no one noticed your little thing for a charming Miss Bella Swan?"

"What?" I sputtered, "Bella?"

"W-What?" Jasper mimicked with an over-exaggerated deer in the headlights expression, "Yes. Dude. Obvious. Ya douche."

"I don't-"

"Save it for the mirror. You really need to help me decide. Dildo or scuba goggles?"

"Dildo or scuba goggles? Geez, what a tough decision," I heard a voice from behind me say with a laugh. I turned to see Bella walking over to us, hopping as she pulled off one of her 'respectable' church shoes. She had claimed they were getting too small and had scoffed when I had told her it was a sign from God.

She was wearing a white sweater and a pink dress that went below her knees, looking like the daughter of the President. Looking nothing like the girl covered in pie yesterday. Nothing like the girl wearing my shirt.

This was good girl Bella.

Hello, good girl Bella. Fancy seeing you here. Believe it or not, I'm seeing split personalities in you, though bad girl Bella isn't quite developed yet….but don't worry, she's getting there.

Seeing Bella dressed like this gnawed at me and made my headache pulse. It made me feel awful. Like I was corrupting something beautifully pure.

Of course, I stopped thinking that when she smiled and laughed at the 'dildo' Jasper was holding in his right hand, the scuba goggles in his left.

"That's not a dildo," Bella laughed. I noticed progress. A few days ago she would've blushed if she said that dirty, dirty word….

I looked at her church clothes again and felt my headache throb. Okay, let's not call it progress. Let's call it change.

Jasper shot me a dirty look as he said, "Then what the fuck is it?"

"I don't know, but I use it to mix pancake batter," Bella said, shrugging and glancing curiously between Jasper and me.

"In my defense, the thing could be used as a dildo," I said as Jasper glared and put the kitchen-whatever-the-fuck-it-was-appliance down where he found it and stormed off, saying he'll buy her some "goddamn broccoli instead".

"So, when'd you get here?" I asked, looking her up and down, "And are those panty hose?"

"I just got here. I need to pick up some milk. And yes, I am wearing panty hose."

"Classy."

"Shut up, you don't have the right to make fun when you're in that vest."

"I'll have you know that in some universes, this vest might be considered high fashion."

"Not in this one."

"Mmmmm," I said, pretending to ponder that, "Not in this one, no."

She rolled her eyes.

"Hey, my shift's almost over. Wanna give me a ride back so we can go chill and stuff our faces?"

"No hookah bar this time," she said, pointing her finger at me and joking about the time I tried to take her to this hookah bar I found downtown. Who knew Forks had a hookah bar? I mean, come on.

"But sure," she continued, "That sounds good."

"Awesome," I said, smiling. She blushed, for some reason, and then I heard the shrill battle cry of Sheryl.

"Boy," she called out, "You better get your scrawny ass over here before I beat you with the damn broom."

"Sheryl, you say the sweetest things," I called back, winking and grinning.

"I'm warning ya, kid," she said, "If I don't get my break in ten minutes…"

"Oh no," I fake-gasped, "Not the mop."

I pretended to hide and cower behind my arms, just because I'm an asshole. When I looked up, I had to bite back a laugh at Sheryl's twisted face. I knew she loved me. She just didn't know it yet.

"Oopsie," I said to Bella, "Got her purple. Not good. I don't know CPR. I'll meet you outside?"

"Sure," Bella said, the both of us trying not to laugh because Sheryl was going to stab us with brooms if we did.

I skid over to Sheryl, sliding my shoes on the glossy floor the last few steps so I stood right in front of Sheryl. I knew she hated that, but hey, she was scowling anyway.

"I swear to God, you are the reason for my high blood pressure," Sheryl said, pointing a stubby finger at me and narrowing those beady eyes, "My doctor said to stay away from punks like you."

"Oh, Sheryl," I laughed, "You don't know how many people have told me that very same thing."

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Bella and I stood out in the rain, my Hannah Montana umbrella over the both of us. Bella was chewing on a hamburger, looking pensive as we window shopped. She was staring at some dark blue dress in the display of the clothing store we'd been standing outside of. She almost seemed amused, taking another bite from the hamburger in her hand. I had finished mine a minute ago, but was gentlemanly enough to grab Bella's burger from her hands.

"Hey!" she said, mouth full, as I took a bite of her burger.

"What are you thinking about?" I asked, handing her back her burger. She snatched it from me.

"You steal my burger and expect me to share my thoughts?"

I dug into my pocket for a penny. Then I showed it to her.

"Penny for your thoughts?" I asked cheekily, grinning sideways. Bella scoffed, shoving me with her hand.

"It's just funny," Bella said, her lips fighting a smile.

"What is?"

"I'm standing out here eating a burger, staring at a gorgeous blue gown that I'd never be able to fit into, let alone pull off," Bella continued, her lips forming into a sort of sick smile, "And I don't know…it's just kind of ironic, you know?"

I cringed, though I'm not sure why. She looked up sadly at me, almost apologetic. Like she didn't mean to tell me that.

I stared at her until she blushed.

"I don't understand women," I said honestly, taking her burger again, "Do you all really think we men find starvation attractive or sexy at all?"

"Not sexy…but fashionable. Trendy," Bella said softly, not meeting my gaze. I stopped chewing.

"Look," Bella huffed, "Guys go for skinny girls because they look good by their sides. A fashionable, hip, 'beautiful' conquest. I mean, they obviously don't do it with that exact concept in mind, but…well, maybe they do it subconsciously. Think of it this way, if men really didn't find skinny girls attractive, then why are all the skinny girls the ones with the men?"

I kept staring.

"You must have been spending a lot of time with shallow guys to come up with that conclusion," I said quietly after a moment. Could this be a clue to breaking Bella?

"Too many," she sighed, laughing humorlessly, "Anyway, it doesn't matter. You ask for my thoughts, you get them."

"If you think," I said sternly, "For one second, that you are anything less than this beautiful, sweet, warm, loving, kind girl, then I'm sorry, but I'm just going to have to punch you in the face."

Smooth, Edward. Real romantic. Classy, even.

I half expected her to bolt. But she didn't.

Bella looked up at me with wide, doe-like eyes despite the fact I had just violently threatened her. Like I just told her the secret to happiness. But she still seemed disbelieving. Then she looked away.

"Hey, I'm not fishing for compliments," she said with a slight laugh, "You don't need to sugar coat anything for me. I'm not throwing a pity party. Honest. I'm just…"

What? Is she kidding me with this? Does this girl even look in the mirror?

"Sugar coat?" I scoffed, "You're telling the teenage delinquent to stop sugar coating?"

"No, I'm telling the teenage delinquent to stop lying."

I set my jaw and Bella blinked, looking like she wanted to slap her hand over her mouth.

"Wait, no I didn't mean-"

"Oh. So, you think I'm lying?" I asked, dropping my voice to a deadly level. I looked at Bella out of the corner of my eye

"Let's stop talking about this," Bella said, looking away.

"I'm not lying."

She didn't answer. She took a bite of her burger, looking at blue gown in the window. We were quiet, letting the rain fall around us. What would it take to break this girl down?

"Edward," she said at last, "Who…who exactly are you?"

I know what type of answer she was searching for. I kicked at a stone by my foot. I had a feeling telling her the horrendous things I've done would not help to break her down. In fact, it would push her away.

"Bella," I sighed, "If I told you…"

She looked cautiously at me. I kept my eyes forward, my jaw locked. How the hell did we get on this topic? And when the hell can we leave it?

"…You'd run," I said, looking at her to show I wasn't kidding around, "Trust me."

Bella stared at me for a while longer, but my eyes were on my shoes. Ashamed. Only standing in Bella's presence could make me feel so god-awful for the things I've done.

"Will you tell me someday?" she asked. I took her burger wordlessly, taking a bite and looking up at Hannah Montana's creepy face peering through the umbrella.

"Someday."

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Flashback (Chicago)

I peeked through the door, watching my mother sew a little pink bear. She was almost finished, now, but she didn't look as happy as I thought she'd look. She sewed in such a weird way. By hand. With a thin metal needle. I asked her about using the sewing machine, thinking it would be easier, but she told me that's not what she and the 'other girls' do in the 'organization'.

I was confused. But she didn't explain. She didn't say much at all.

She looked up and saw me, her eyes tired looking. I ducked away, afraid I would get in trouble.

"Edward," she called out in a weak voice. I peeked my head through her room again. She was lying on the bed, her smile as weak as her voice. She patted the bed, the spot beside her. I grinned my toothy, childish smile and clambered onto the bed.

I snuggled next to her and she petted my hair silently, looking at me sideways. She pushed some hair from my face and ran her finger over one of my eyebrows.

"Did you eat dinner?" she asked. I'd been making my own dinner lately, using the microwave we recently got after my father died in the house fire set by the stove. I nodded at my mother. She grinned softly, almost sadly.

"You didn't need me, huh?" she said, her voice weak again and her eyes swimming with a sadness I'd never seen before. I frowned.

"I need you, Mommy," I said, snuggling closer to her as she chuckled softly.

"I know, baby," she sighed, "Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere."

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I looked at the bear in my hand as I recalled the memory. The box was out, because I walked into my room and thought I had only dreamed of it. But I hadn't. No, the nightmare was true. And it was staring at me with tiny blue buttons for eyes.

Elizabeth. Mom. Mommy. Mother.

They were all the same names for the maker of this bear. The haunter of the guilt-nightmares James wasn't successful in making disappear. The only thing left of my mother when the word 'adoption' was stamped over my forehead. The thing, I thought, had died along with her.

And maybe I had some explaining to do. To myself. To Bella. To my parents. To everyone who would listen.

I was eight when I was adopted. Ten when I realized how fucked everything was. Thirteen when I met James. Fifteen when everything was better. Seventeen when everything went up in flames.

James tried to help. That's all he did. That's all anyone did. Seeing the bear again, it brought back the guilt I tried to push away. The guilt James tried to push away. I had been successful with keeping it far, far away and I still was. I mean hey, I wasn't trying to commit suicide or spending hours upon hours in fetal position.

I didn't consider myself one of those 'scarred' children who need the therapy and the help and who throw little 'pity parties', as Bella called them, for themselves whenever the littlest thing went wrong. And I wasn't scarred. Not emotionally.

That kind of scarred is for the weak. And I am not weak.

But I wasn't thick enough to not notice the bricks falling with every second I looked at the ratty bear my mother made in that stuffy apartment we lived in.

Angry, I shoved the bear back in the box. I slammed it under the bed and fisted both hands in my hair.

I had to stop this. I was thinking too much again. Taking things too heavily. Being all emotional. Bringing back the guilt.

The things you're attached to make you weaker, I heard James' voice shout in my head. My head throbbed painfully and I rubbed my brow again because I couldn't help it.

Stop. Get a grip, Edward, and quit being such a baby.

I took a shaky breath in, my hands twitching towards my lighter. A habit, maybe, that ran a little deeper than just disgusting cigarettes and gritty second hand smoke.

….Flashback

"Listen to me," James spat in my face, holding me up by my collar as I whimpered like a two year old, "You can't do this to yourself, man. You need some help."

"I-I-I," I muttered, my face bleeding. I always ended up beat up when I tried to talk to James. It was a trend I noticed from the start.

James slapped me across the face. It stung. I breathed deeply in and out through my nose, biting back the sobs of pain.

"What were you trying to do with this?" James said, snatching my lighter off the floor and holding it in front of my face, "Hm? Answer me."

"I-I-I," I mumbled as best I could. These were the dark days. A few years with my adoptive parents Carlisle and Esme, now a weak, gawky 8th grader. A few years of therapy. A few years of me growing up with a guilt that would soon eat me alive if I didn't stop.

I knew that. But it hurt to think. Back then, it hurt to do anything.

And James was out to change that. James was the 11th grader. The one with the answers.

"Trying to light a fire?" James asked with raised eyebrows. He gazed at me for a second. Then he dropped my collar and I landed on the floor, my lighter clanging on the floor next to my head. I winced, closing my eyes.

"What the hell would you have done if I hadn't come around?" James snapped, "God, kid, you're a fucking mess."

I let out shaky breaths, keeping the sobs in and feeling the pain in my face. I closed my eyes again, dreaming of Chicago but instead feeling the sticky, hard floor of California pavement against my back.

"Why?" I heard him ask, "Because your father died in a house fire?"

I didn't answer.

"Because your mother committed suicide not long after?"

I didn't answer still.

"Or are you like the rest of us?" James asked, his voice dropping. Almost regretfully.

"Like us. The ones just plain obsessed," James said, his voice dropping, "With destruction. Now that destruction has swallowed our whole lives."

I didn't answer, my eyes wide with curiosity at this brave boy with the scars on his face and the steel-toed boots. The one that smelled like cigarettes and already had grey hair mixing with his blonde hair.

"I need," I began, my voice thick, "I need help."

"Damn straight," James said, bending down to pick up my lighter, "So here's what we're going to do."

He shoved my lighter in my face again, his face slowly twisting into a smile…

I broke away from my thoughts, shaking my head and looking at the closed drawer where I knew my lighter was. There was something eating inside me that I knew I needed to clear before it blew up in the most unfortunate of ways. Something I didn't know how to solve on my own.

So I did the only thing I knew how to do.

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Bella

I hummed to myself, carrying my laundry basket up the stairs. Jasper and Alice were just over, and the four of us spent a lazy Sunday evening together. Lounging on the couch, eating ice cream from the cartons, and watching the sun set in the grey sky, making the air alive with purple and orange.

The TV had glimmered the whole time, but we were mostly talking. Edward had seemed distracted tonight. I noticed something was a bit off. I thought maybe it was because we had school tomorrow. He kept looking off in the distance, laughing a little less, and giving me long, blank looks. I strangled with whether or not to ask him what was wrong.

Anyway, Jasper and Alice left to go on a dinner date. Edward and I cleaned up a bit, but then Edward went upstairs to lock himself in his room. I let him go, trudging downstairs to do laundry.

Now that I was finished, I was walking back upstairs. I passed by Edward's room, the door shut. I listened for noises, but there were none. I went into my room, dumping my laundry on my bed. Maybe I could study for that test I had on Thursday…

I huffed. This was ridiculous. All I could think about was talking to Edward.

I opened the door to my room slowly. Edward's door was still closed. I made the resolve to talk to him and see what was up. I really shouldn't have been so nosy. Really, I shouldn't have.

But then there was a loud crash in his room and I jumped, acting on instinct and running to his door. I yanked it open. Edward was standing by his window wearing only pajama bottoms, but he turned around with a jump. The window was open, a breeze fluttering by. The moonlight seemed to be swallowing Edward, glimmering around his bare shoulders in an eerie sort of halo.

"Bella," he said, "Fuck, you scared me."

"I heard a crash…" I said, looking around at his room. Papers with scrawled words on it were fluttered around, post-it notes on his wall that hadn't been there the last time I went into his room. And there was a box on his bed. Edward walked over and slammed it shut once he saw me looking at it.

"A crash?" he asked. Now I was staring at his bare chest, the gold cross glimmering there, tempting me in a twisted way. No one should look that gorgeous shirtless. No one.

Bella! You're distracted!

"Yeah," I said, narrowing my eyes at the box he had his hands over, "Are you okay?"

"What?" he asked, "Yeah. I'm fine. Are you okay?"

We stared at each other for a moment, and he looked scary calm. A practiced calm. He smiled slowly.

"What were you expecting to find?" he asked, veiling his curiosity.

"I don't know," I sighed in exasperation, "You howling in pain and gripping your foot because you stubbed it against the dresser?"

An answer, perhaps?

He raised his eyebrows as if he knew I was lying. We stared a while longer.

"Maybe something fell down outside," he offered with a sigh, running a hand through his hair, "It is raining, after all."

"Maybe."

Yeah. It is raining. So why do you have your window open?

And that's when I saw it. The lighter on the floor. The metal glimmered like the metal on the cross around Edward's neck. Like the glimmer around Edward. An eerie halo.

Suddenly, Edward was standing in front of me. I took a step back, reflexively, and felt my eyes staring closer now at his bare chest.

Fuck.

What? Did I just hear that correctly? Bella Swan cursing?

Normally, I found it pointless. There were better words. But right now? There weren't. No other word could possibly explain both how gorgeous his chest was and how totally screwed I was. That was it, wasn't it?

I'd fallen for this mysterious boy. I was stuck. And I could feel two yearnings bubbling fiercely inside of me. One to figure out what was going on. Another to grab him and kiss him. Hard.

As much as I wanted to close my eyes and will the feelings away, I knew I couldn't. It was true. I was stuck. I couldn't not care anymore. I was hitched to this boy, whether it would have a good outcome or not. And these days, before getting emotionally attached, I'd plan it out. Make sure I'd come out alive.

But with Edward, things were uncertain. Grey areas. And somehow, I knew at that moment I was latched on. No matter what. Maybe not a strong bond now, but it was big enough to see. To feel. God, was that scary.

What has gotten into me?

I looked up at Edward's tight-lipped expression. His hard eyes scrutinizing mine with mild frustration. Could he feel it too? Would this break us or build us? But the biggest question of the night was still staring me in the face. In front of all my petty internal problems.

What on earth was going on?

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You okay? Still with me? Don't freak out.

Lighter obsession = not suicide. This is not a suicide story. Don't interpret his obsession with lighter as obsession with burning himself. Sure, Edward's emo and angsty, but he won't be burning himself alive. I just needed to make that clear. I will explain the burning more later, as the story goes on.

You did, however, learn more about Edward in this chapter. Hm…

Well, that's all I'm going to say. This wasn't one of my happiest chapters, but rather an informative one.

Tell me watcha think? Think Edward's lying to himself about not being a 'scarred' child? His past is pretty terrible, afterall….