hey, so here's another story that was rotting in my brain!

I promise this one's actually going to get updated! (shocker,

i know!) not even joking! yay for you guys! hope you all

enjoy! and i'd like to give some people a few shoutouts…

sara! ~ thank you so much for the shoutouts! i thought i'd return the favour… as if you'd actually read this… i don't really blame you if you don't though… i suck anyway, i understand you probably don't want your eyes to bleed out… but i love you! i'll be there for you through anything, i just want you to know that, as if you don't already.

jojo! ~ thanks for always reviewing and lying about me being a good writer! it makes me feel happy… even if it's totally not true. i love you twiinny!

-x-

Alice's POV:

"Please, stop James! You're hurting me!" I shrieked as pain filled my very essence. I could barely breathe, just barely managing to gasp out those words. I shook in fear; the pain just seemed to get worse every time.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Is this any better?" James leered, and the punching stopping, but I still had the urge to cough out blood that being punched mercilessly in the stomach over, and over, and over again. I screamed out this time, as he grabbed my arm and twisted it in an angle that wasn't humanely possible.

"W-why?" I gasped in the pain James was giving me. Tears were forming in my eyes, showing him just how much he was hurting me.

"I saw you flirting with him, you stupid little whore. You're lucky I don't dump your sorry ass. I'm giving you exactly what you deserve, you unlovable piece of filth. Nobody could love stupid filth like you, and you can't possibly think I'm lucky to have you. You're a dirty whore, and you should be worshipping the fucking ground I walk on." James sneered coolly after his little speech, digging a razor into my wrist, allowing it to overlap scars that were barely visible anymore. The tears in my eyes spilled over, staining my pale cheeks. I shook as I started to get dizzy.

But I know I deserved it. I was an unlovable dirty whore; James was right. If only I didn't giggle at that guy's stupid little pickup line. 'Is there a mirror in your pants? 'Cos I can see myself in them.' It was stupid of me, anyway. Why did that make me giggle? It wasn't as if he thought I was attractive in the first place. James had cut my once-long black hair, so I had to fix it. Now I resembled a pixie, almost to a T. My hair stuck out in every which direction, but somehow managed to fit me; not like any guy thought it was cute. My slightly dimpled cheeks were usually wind-kissed from running everywhere, but it wasn't really my fault the high of running made me forget my pathetic life. My wrists were covered in an uncountable amount of scars, thanks to James, so I usually wore long sleeves. When it was too hot for long sleeves, I'd wear scrunchies over my scars. I didn't want anyone finding out about them; only my little sister knew. I was barely four foot, nine inches, and my love for ballet flats didn't help the fact. My eyes were the most unattractive gray-blue, resembling a stormy sky. As you can see, I'm completely unattractive.

I knew I was lucky to have a patient, caring, loving guy like James. He at least tried to love me, the unlovable Mary Alice Brandon.

Jasper's POV:

I sighed, looking at the suitcase on my bed. I had no idea what to bring. Should I bring my Swiss Army Knife? No, if a cutter went though my bag, I'd be screwed and wouldn't get my internship paper signed. Going to the Institute would be pointless if I wasn't going to get my college credit for it. Without a signed internship paper, I would never be able to become a counselor for troubled teens.

I decided to bring my clothes, a couple extra pairs of shoes, a few empty notebooks, and a ton of pens. I admit I had a small pen addiction, but it wasn't really my fault I loved writing in different colours. Wow… that sounded very homosexual…

I sighed again, looking around my dorm room. Peter was hiding that he was secretly ecstatic about getting the place to himself for a whole semester. Now he can do certain activities, so to speak, with his girlfriend Charlotte; things he would've dare do with me around. I know ew, right? But, I wasn't going to judge, because it wasn't exactly like I'd never done the same thing with my now ex-girlfriend Maria. I hated how she was so clingy to me, and how she expected us to be together forever, so I'd broken things off with her. You can imagine how upset the girl was. I was actually surprised she hadn't gone on a killing spree… Peter gave her five weeks, though, when she finds out I've left.

I wasn't really ecstatic to go to the Institute. Sometimes I could feel people's emotions; I wasn't looking forward to working with suicidal people. But I'd always wanted to help fucked up teens. Ever since what happened with my fucked up father, I wanted to help people who went through the same thing my mother and I had.

After I finished packing, Peter barged into the room. "If you wanna make your flight, we have to leave. Now."

"Kay, thanks Pete." I replied immediately, my Southern accent leaking through. I grabbed my suitcase, somewhat surprised at the weight; I'd expected it to be heavier. Then again, the Army had helped me get fitter, and jumpier. Peter said that after I came back from Iraq I hadn't been the same.

After Peter parked the car, I got out, bringing the suitcase with me. "We'll miss you, Jazzy!" Charlotte shrieked, managing to tackle me. It never failed to amaze me how Charlotte, with her five-foot even frame, could manage to scare me and Peter. I was, after all, six three, and Pete was at least five inches taller than she was. Then again, thinking about it, Charlotte just held herself with such confidence; it was hard to not be afraid when she wanted you to be.

"Yeah, Jazzy-purr, we'll be missin' ya!" Peter chuckled. I rolled my eyes, lazily flipping him the bird. His chuckling just turned to booming laughter.

"Bye, guys. And for God's sake, stay out of my bed." Charlotte turned red as I mentioned their, shall we call them 'habits'? Peter's laughing stopped and he was the one flipping the bird at me this time. I rolled my eyes. "Lovely comeback, Pete. Anyway, I've gotta go." I left as they yelled their good-byes after me.

After I got on the plane, I sighed as I looked out the window, slowly falling asleep, only to be awoken by the turbulence. After we all got off, I was left to look for Dr. Cullen. I sighed in relief as I saw him, remembering his face from the web-conversation we'd had a few weeks ago.

"Hi Dr. Cullen." I greeted, respect lining my voice.

"Hello, Jasper. Please call me Carlisle, or I'll be forced to call you Mr. Whitlock," he smirked slightly, and I smiled at him as I realized he was joking.

"Alright, Carlisle. It's an honor to meet you, in person."

"The pleasure's all mine. Now, I just need to go over something. You'll be assigned to work with a small group of people; all with different types of problems. Just listen to what they have to say; be open with them, and in some cases, be their shoulder to cry on, and you'll get your paper signed. If you're an ass to anyone, if you completely ignore someone, or if you fuck with anyone's mind, I will refuse to sign it, even if you hold a gun to my head. Have I made myself clear?" I was honestly shocked with the ferociousness in his voice, but it made me respect him even more.

"Yes, sir." I fought the urge to salute at him.

"Well, I'm glad. Let's go now." After that, we left to the Institute.

-x-

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