This plot bunny came to me while reading Drotuno's Masen Manor. It's an excellent read that I highly recommend. I borrowed one aspect from her story, but the rest is totally mine, minus the stuff that belongs to Stephenie Meyer, of course.

Bella PoV

I made sure my scarf was tight around my neck as I walked into the tattoo shop. It wouldn't be my first time going under the inked needle, and likely not the last, but this one was the one that meant the most. Tattoos had become my addiction. I said no to drugs, alcohol and cigarettes, and instead opted for the much more satisfying permanent ink. I started with a small symbol on my shoulder that symbolized loss. I had lost so much, and felt that it was fitting for the first tattoo. I liked it so much that I went back and got a matching one on the other shoulder that said hope. Now those two tattoos were surrounded by angel's wings and beneath them was a serene scene of a waterfall splashing over rocks in a magical forest. There were fairies, butterflies and even a faun. Full sleeves on both arms followed, and then a smattering of images across my chest, abdomen and upper legs.

This tattoo was the one that would seal the deal on my history and make it so no one could ignore what I'd been through, nor what I'd survived. I hadn't frequented this particular artist before, but my usual guy recommending this one, saying no one did this kind of tattoo better. I also asked him not to call ahead for me, as I wanted the full effect. The full shock and awe when he saw what I wanted tattooed and where it was. It wouldn't have as much meaning if he knew what he was getting into before I even walked in the door. My usual artist, Sausage, agreed with that, and did not call his buddy Felix before sending me over.

"You must be Mary Alice," I heard a male's voice call out. I looked up from the tattoo magazine I'd been reading and was greeted by a familiar face. I nodded at him and stood up to greet him. "I'm Kyle. Your survey says that my buddy Sausage referred you?" He held out his hand to me in greeting, I shook it with the firm grip that my father taught me. I was so glad he was visiting the area, since he normally worked out of Illinois and that was a bit of a trip for some ink.

"Yep, he's done all my other pieces, but recommended you for this special one. I asked him not to call ahead for me, as I wanted to tell you everything myself." He chuckled and nodded, gesturing for me to follow him. He led me into his little studio area where he pulled out a sketchbook and a chair for me.

"So what are you thinking? You didn't reveal much on the survey." He held up the mostly blank document. I nodded in reply. I'd written only "to be discussed" in those parts.

"I have a pretty nasty scar that's very prominent on my body," I began, tugging at my sleeve. "I know scar tissue doesn't tattoo well, so I'm not asking for a cover up. On the contrary, I'd like for it to accentuate the scar. I want it to stand out. It already makes people nervous and uncomfortable when they see it, why not make it even more so?" Kyle swallowed loudly, the eyeball that was tattooed across his throat bobbing slightly. "Exactly," I added, laughing.

He smiled at me, realizing the theme I was going for. "So you want stand-out, conversation starter, tell the world you don't give two shits what they think, kinda tatt?" I nodded again, smiling. "Alright, so where's the canvas? I don't see any scars now, but you're wearing long sleeves and pants."

I stood up and began unwinding my silk scarf from my neck. It was my last remnant of the Cullens that I still had. The one thing that Edward hadn't pilfered when he ransacked my bedroom the day he left me. I bent down to put it in my purse and pushed my hair away before standing back up. Lifting my chin slightly, I gave him the full view of the jagged, gruesome scar that split my neck in two. "Holy Fuck!" he exclaimed. "Oh I'm sorry. I just… I didn't expect… that."

I laughed. "It's okay, Kyle. I've long gotten past the pain associated with it, don't get offended when people make notice of it, nor do I get embarrassed. Like I said, I want to make it stand out. It's a testament to what I went through and bad-ass proof of my survival."

"I'll say. Do you mind if I ask what happened?" I took a deep breath as I prepared myself for the story.

"Not at all. Y'know how some trauma victims say that their whole attack was a blur, that the details are fuzzy, or that they blacked out and can't remember anything?" Kyle nodded his agreement. "Maybe it's just me, or maybe they're all a bunch of liars, but I remember that night in vivid detail. It's the clearest memory I have. Every single sound, smell, and sight is burned into my brain forever…" As the words came out of my mouth, I was transported back to that fateful night.

I was asleep in my tiny twin bed at my father's house. I had always been a light sleeper, but in the months since my heart and soul left me on the forest floor, I barely slept at all. And when I did, I woke up screaming from a terrifying nightmare. Edward's departure had ravaged my soul, leaving me dark and empty. I'd learned to fill the hole, slightly by doing reckless things and getting into trouble only to hear his voice. I was a speeding ticket away from being sent to army boot-camp style boarding school, but I didn't care. It was the only way to keep the pain away. My father was doing his best, but even he couldn't keep the nightmares away.

That night, I woke up to the sound of my father screaming, not me. Quite the turn of events. Only his scream was cut off by a gurgling sound. Knowing something was terribly wrong, I grabbed my knife that I kept in my bedside table and headed towards my father's bedroom, sliding it into the sleeve of my shirt. He'd taught me well. I knew which floorboards creaked, and how to open my door silently. I hoped that whoever was assaulting my father didn't know I was there. It was the only advantage I had.

I opened the door in time to see my father slump to the ground, a red line across his neck and blood spurting out of his arteries, spraying the room in crimson. I screamed for him and fell to my knees. "Get her!" I heard someone yell. I was grabbed around the waist and a knife held to my own throat. I slumped in my attacker's arms, remembering my Dad's instruction that if you struggle, they only hold you tighter, but if you relax, they will too. The attacker let his guard down, thinking I'd given up. Instead, I slid the knife down my shirtsleeve and into my hand. I stabbed backwards into anything I could find. I think I caught his groin or femoral artery as he screamed at let me go. He was out cold in seconds from the blood loss.

The other attacker brought his knife up and caught me across the throat, just like my father. I spluttered and coughed, but before I went down, I wedged my knife deep into his carotid and turned it. My father died as did the two attackers, but I survived. Just barely, but I did. Everything did go black at that point but not before I watched the life completely leave Charlie's eyes. It destroyed me.

I finished the gruesome tale, and realized that the other artists and a couple patrons of Kyle's shop had gathered around to hear the story. I used to get embarrassed at any amount of attention, but not anymore. Human beings were just naturally curious; I knew that fact all too well. I just didn't care about their reactions anymore. "My father was the police chief in our town. He put a lot of bad guys away, so naturally, he was always a target. It was one of those guys and a buddy of his that came to our house that night. We never found out if they were truly after my father for revenge or if someone else hired them. Since they were both dead, it was hard to ask them questions."

"So, you killed the guys that killed your father?" someone asked.

I shrugged. "I guess so. I already knew from previous situations, but when it comes to fight or flight, I will always fight." I was reminded of the Ballet Studio in Phoenix where I'd gone willingly to James to try and save my mother. Even though I knew I was no match for a vampire, I'd still tried to fight him.

"Damn, now that is bad-ass," another girl said. I recognized her as Tattoo-Baby. She, Kyle and my guy Sausage had been on a TV show, showcasing their tattooing talents and trying to win the grand prize. None of them had won, but they were still damn good artists.

"So I'm guessing you want something across your throat, something that shows the world, 'look at this! Some jack-ass tried to take my head off, but he failed when I shanked him in the throat because I'm fucking awesome.' Right?" God I loved the no-nonsense attitude of so many tattoo artists.

I smiled again. "Abso-fucking-lutely." He grinned and started sketching. First he needed to sketch my scar so he could doodle around it. I held perfectly still as he'd draw a little bit then look back at my scar, then draw some more. After a few minutes, he had a perfect replica of the mark on his paper. "I gotta say that when I saw your name in my appointment book, I never expected someone like you. The name 'Mary Alice' definitely suggests well… the opposite of what you are."

"Exactly," I replied, smiling. "I actually had my name changed, recently. Mary Alice was a dear friend of mine that I lost a while back. I needed to get away from my old life completely so I changed everything." Even my hair was a drastic change. Gone were the long mahogany locks, and in their place a short angled bob that I dyed burgundy.

"I can dig that," he agreed. "Now I'm thinking we can go old-fashioned with this, meaning 1950s monster movies. Frankenstein, creature of the blue lagoon, the mummy, that kinda thing. What do you think?"

"Sounds perfect," I agreed. He kept drawing until he had a rough sketch of what he was thinking. There were obvious black stitches and staples that went across the scar, making it look like it was still being held together. He drew some blood spatter and drips of blood coming out of the scar and even some parts were festering. He added bits that looked like the skin had completely ripped away, revealing muscle underneath. Other skin rips revealed scaled skin or mummy-bandages. I absolutely loved it. He explained that he'd do a bit of shading right around the scar to make the puckered flesh really pop out of the image. When I approved the design, he made an appointment for me to return in a week to get it inked, so he had time to draw it out perfectly and make a stencil. He said he'd block out his whole day for me since neck tattoos can be tough and we'd need a lot of breaks. I thanked him for agreeing to the project and told him I looked forward to the next week.

I arrived home only to see another bike parked in my allotted space. There was plenty of room for both bikes of course, but that could only mean one thing. Jake was here. He'd tracked me down yet again. I looked up and could see him leaned against the door to my apartment. How the hell did he find me? I thought. He didn't even know Alice's real name. Plus I'd fled clear across the country. Stifling an eye roll, I climbed the three flights of stairs to my floor and walked down the breezeway to where he stood. He looked over at me, and visibly relaxed in relief. "Thank god you didn't go through with it, Bells," he said, sighing. He reached out as if to cup my cheek, but drew his hand back when I flinched. I still wasn't okay with his affection.

"Go through with what?" I asked.

"The tattoo on your neck," he replied. How the hell did he know about that? Keeping my face calm and collected, I pretended that I already knew he had been lurking.

"Actually, I am still doing it. The artist needs to draw out the design we agreed on, and I'm going back next week."

"But… Bells, you already have enough tattoos. You won't be able to get a job anywhere if you have one on your neck like that."

"First of all, only my dad gets to call me Bells. Not you, not Billy, not anyone else. I already have a job. I write for a living, and no one has to see me for that. I also already had trouble getting jobs with this massive scar on my neck, which you're also well aware of. Why do you keep beating a dead horse, Jake?"

"I just don't want you to regret this, honey. And I want you to come home." He looked truly remorseful for upsetting me. It was the definition of our relationship. I'd hurt him, and look remorseful for it, so he'd forgive me. Then he'd do the same damn thing. It was a never ending cycle of hurting each other, feeling bad about it and the other being sometimes far too forgiving.

I shook my head. "Not gonna happen, Black. And don't call me honey." He always knew I was dead serious when I used his last name. "I finally moved on, finally am beginning to live again after… all that happened in Forks. To go back there would set me back two years."

"Why'd you pick Mary Alice Brandon for your name?" he asked.

Shrugging, I replied, "Found it in an old book I liked. It was old fashioned and not so common these days. Plus it fits me now." I had gotten very good at lying. Even Jacob, who used to be able to read me like a book, was fooled. I picked the name because it was Alice's name before she became a vampire. Of all the Cullens, I felt closest to her, apart from Edward, of course. She was like the sister I never had, and never realized I wanted. Sometimes, I missed her most of all.

"Fair enough. Listen Bella, I know you're hurting and you miss your dad and the l… them, but isn't what you're doing a bit reckless and frankly, self-destructive?" I had to roll my eyes.

"Yes it is," I agreed, leaving it at that. His eyes went wide. "I have no fear of death, Jacob, but I'm not asking for it, nor am I suicidal. I'm simply throwing caution to the wind and letting what happens happen. I know that's not how you wanted things, Jake, but I can't live my life the way other people want me to. I did that for over eighteen years, and I'm done."

"Alright," he relented. "Can I… can I at least stick around a while and, um, hang out with you? I've missed you like crazy. I don't have school again until September, and the shop is closed for remodeling for a couple weeks, so I'm free. What's there to do around here?" he asked.

Somehow, we were instantly Jake and Bells again, even though I had grown to hate that nickname. I led him through my foyer and into the living area in my apartment. He flopped onto the couch after I told him to make himself at home. I shook my head at him, but went to get a couple sodas from the fridge. "What? Not warm ones? Come on, Bella, you know how we do."

I shook my head again. "Not anymore Jake. Honestly, you could at least have had them on ice in a cooler in that garage of yours. Maybe I should have gotten you a mini-fridge as my thank you for fixing up those bikes," I teased.

He chuckled as he knocked his can against mine in cheers. "So what do you do around here?"

I shrugged. "A lot of writing, a lot of reading. I go for walks every day, sit at coffee shops and people watch. It's very serene and relaxing here. Sometimes I go down to the beach and soak my feet in the ocean. Whatever I want to do, really."

"That sounds very… freeing," he commented. I nodded. It was. That was exactly why I picked this place. "So, let's say you show me this beach of yours. Has it got anything on La Push?"

"Well visually, La Push is far more beautiful. There aren't any cliffs around, and the surf pretty much sucks, but since I don't surf or even swim, it's perfect. Plus the water's almost always warm, unlike back home. There are wild horses around, too, and I like watching them. Sure, let's go down there." I got up from the sofa and went to change into beach-worthy clothing. Jake said he was going to grab his duffel from the saddle bag on his bike and come back up. By the time I was changed into my bikini and a sarong wrapped around me like a halter top dress, Jake was back and had also changed into a sleeveless t-shirt and board shorts.

I'd forgotten how attractive Jake really was. He'd always been that overgrown kid brother to me, so I never saw him in that light, much to his chagrin, but still, he was a good looking guy. His arms were cut and chiseled and his chest was broad and muscled. I was sure he still had at least a six pack, if not more, and I also knew that "V" shaped muscle disappeared into his shorts. There was one time when I had a brief moment of physical attraction to him, when I saw that V. Ever since; I'd asked him to always wear a shirt around me. He'd filled out even more since becoming a wolf and now even looked older than me, though I couldn't remember where we stood on who was "older."

Grabbing towels, and filling my beach cooler with ice and more sodas, we headed down the stairs and Jake paused when I didn't head towards the bike. I rolled my eyes. "Jake, the beach is right over there. We hardly need to ride." I said, pointing towards the grass covered sand dunes behind my apartment complex. There was a wooden plank path cut into the sand dunes that led right out onto the beach.

We laid out our towels beneath one of the vacant umbrellas that the next door hotel provided. They weren't very busy during the week, so they didn't mind when the locals used their umbrellas. Jacob immediately tore off his shirt and ran into the ocean, diving headfirst into the first wave he encountered. I shook my head as I saw the few women on the beach ogling him shamelessly.

Seeing a few guys starting to look my way, I smirked to myself and un did the tie on my sarong. It fell around me in a ring at my feet, stepping out of it, all my tattoos were on display for all to see. For some reason, I'd gotten a lot more confident about my body. In the past couple years, I'd filled out a bit, actually had hips and some curves, and I worked out a lot, so the muscle tone added to my look.

Deciding that the water did look inviting, I followed behind Jacob slowly, just getting my feet wet. I wasn't a fan of swimming, much less the feeling of salt water having dried in my hair. On my way back to my towel, a young woman approached me, her giggling friends behind her. "Is that your boyfriend?" she asked, pointing at Jacob who was just standing in the water at waist height and staring out at the ocean.

"Nope, little brother," I told her. She gawked at me. "Big little brother, yeah. He's visiting from Washington State. Last I checked, he was single, too. You should go talk to him. He's a great guy." I urged her forward, just to see the look of mortification on Jacob's face. Her friends stood by me and watched in rapt attention as the girl swam out to where Jacob was standing. Poor thing barely came up to his chest, not realizing the water was as deep as it is.

"Jesus, how tall is he?" one girl asked.

"Just south of seven feet," I answered. "He's a beast of a man, but has a heart of gold, and just wait until you see his smile," I told them. "He's not really my brother, but we grew up together and that's just how it is with us."

She was a pretty girl, right about Jacob's age, I figured. He still had no idea how to talk to girls, since I was the only one he was ever interested in. If he would just open up his eyes to the possibility of someone else, he could find someone really special, imprint or not. Despite how far I'd come after Edward and his family leaving me and Charlie being murdered, I didn't think I'd ever be in a place where I could start dating again.

I could see him starting to open up to her and actually have fun. That knowledge was cemented when she splashed him and he splashed her right back, a huge grin breaking out on his russet face.

And on that note, a group of guys approached me, blocking out the sun much better than the umbrella was doing. "Can I help you?" I asked. They were eyeing me up and down shamelessly. I had to stifle an eye roll.

"We wanted to see if you and your brother wanted to join our volleyball game," one guy said, pointing to the net they had set up a couple hundred yards away. Clearly they'd heard what I told their girl friends.

I'd said no to these kinds of invitations every single other time in my life, but I'd been working on my clumsiness and overall aversion to all things sports, so this time I changed my tune. Plus I'd always felt more confident when Jacob was around. "Sure, but I won't promise to be any good. Jacob's good at any sport though." I waved him in and the girl that was fawning over him followed him into shore. As I stood up, the guys saw my scar that had previously been hidden under the shadows of the umbrella and the angle at which I was laying.

They were all focusing on looking at anything but my neck, so it was obvious they were trying to be respectful, but still curious as well. "Go ahead, ask me about it," I offered.

"What happened?" the first guy who spoke to me asked. He then said his name was Jimmy. How cute. The rest of them swiveled their heads towards me, their eyes going back and forth from my face to my neck. I guessed it was better than staring at my chest. Not that I had much going on there anyway.

"Some jackass tried to take my head off, but I shanked him in the carotid before he could finish the job because I'm that fucking awesome," I replied, deciding to quote Kyle. They all gave me a look that asked, "Really?" I nodded. "Well, the story's a bit longer than that, and full of angst and tragedy, but basically yeah."

I could see that they all saw me in a different light at that point, and couldn't tell if they now saw me as "one of the guys" or if they were interested in me. I think I intimidated them too much, though. Jacob and his new growth joined us. We decided for guys vs. girls, so she had to remove herself from his side in order to play. Jacob seemed more annoyed by her than anything, but kept the happy-go-lucky grin I knew so well plastered on his face.

"That's my kid sister that's flirting with him," another guy said to me before heading to his side of the net. "I have to protect her… is he… okay?"

I couldn't help laughing. "Yes, he's the best guy I know, truly. Wouldn't hurt a fly." He seemed appeased and headed over to start the game. Jacob towered over all of them and his head nearly went over the net.

We played for about an hour before the light started to dim and it was getting too dark to play. The guys we played with offered to invite us over for a bonfire in front of the beach house they were renting, but we declined. I had to get up early to work on my next chapter, and Jacob apparently had made plans with the girl that was hanging all over him. Ruth, I'd learned was her name. That was a surprise to me. Not that I wanted him to be pining over me for the rest of time, but it seemed like he was instantly over me.

Back at my apartment, I made up the spare bed for him. He volunteered to sleep on the couch, but I knew he'd be uncomfortable, and didn't mind getting out the clean bedding and pillows for him. "This is a nice place, Bells… I mean Bella. Sorry. Old habit," he said, sheepish. I waved him off; telling him it was of no consequence. "Um, what's rent like out here?"

"It's super cheap," I answered. "I make good money now that I've got a fan-base, but for a while I was paying rent with Charlie's retirement and insurance fund. Plus the money I made selling the house."

I'd fought with Billy long and hard about selling that house. Even my mother tried to convince me to keep it. She hated Forks and everything to do with that house, so I couldn't figure out why she cared. None of them understood though. They could sympathize all they wanted, but none of them had their throat slashed after they watched their father get brutally murdered in his own bed.

Jacob and I said goodnight to each other and crawled into our respective beds. As much as I liked living alone, having him around was kinda nice. For now anyway.

A/N: If I'm remembering correctly, I don't think Alice revealed what she knew about her past to Bella until the end of New Moon, but I changed it up a bit here, so Bella would have a name she could use. It'll also come in handy when the Cullens appear later ;) thank you for reading and for your reviews. If you're already a reader of mine, you can trust that I'll stay true to my bad-ass Bella streak.

I have a LOT of tattoos, so that sparked another of my ideas for this fic, though I'd never get one across my throat. Although, if I did have a scar like Bella's maybe I would get one to show it off. My grandma has a pretty nasty scar on her neck from a botched surgery and she's always wearing turtlenecks to cover it up. I'd own that shit, if it were me.

Also, Kyle Dunbar was one of the tattoo artists on the show Ink Master. So were Sausage and Tattoo-Baby. It's a pretty good show, for reality TV. I have no idea where any of them are based out of, other than Kyle, so I put them near where Bella lives in this fic. Oh and BTW, she's living in my home town, Kill Devil Hills, North Carolina. Part of the Outer Banks.