Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight

Alice P.O.V.

I sat on my flower print couch stroking one of my beautiful cats, Herman. His calming purr lulling me into a numb state where I liked to spend as much time as possible. A few moments, or maybe a few hours later, I heard a soft knock.

"Damn", I muttered. I jumped off the couch lithely, still slightly amazed that I could move so gracefully when it felt like my heart was torn into shreds of metal that left deep cuts whenever the wrong memories were brought up. A smell, a sound, a word could bring my whole world crashing down again. But that hasn't happened in a long time. Not since I've isolated myself in this apartment for the last three years. Now I alternate between numbness and self-hatred, which is another reason why I wonder how I'm still so graceful while I'm being weighed down with revulsion for myself.

I dragged my feet across the wooden floor, reluctant to answer whoever's knocking. Ok, who am I kidding. There's only one person that comes here and that's only once a month. I opened the door a sliver and peeked out.

"Hi Bella", I said in a hoarse voice. Wow. How long has it been since I last spoke?

"Hi Alice", Bella murmured timidly. " I have all of your groceries here, and Edward stacked the bags of cat food and litter outside of the door, I know you don't like anyone in your apartment," she finished with a small smile towards me, handing me the bags of groceries.

"Thank you", I said with that hoarse voice again, and hopefully managing a fraction of a real smile. I really did appreciate Bella, she'd been shopping for me since I'd moved here three years ago, and was too shy to really try to change my ways. Which would never happen anyway. Here and there she would sneak in a dinner invitation or something to her house, but she never pushed anything on me. I almost asked her if she wanted to come in for coffee, when I froze and mentally slapped myself as the shreds of my heart threatened to reopen one of the cuts.

"Bye Bella", I whispered in a voice that belonged in a crypt, as I closed the door.

I didn't deserve a friend.

Not after what I did.

I didn't deserve anyone.

Not even my beautiful cats, but I was far too selfish to lose them. They were my last shred of happiness. My last shred of sanity. I comforted myself with the fact that I took much better care of them then any shelter I could drop them off at would. Most of my day was dedicated to them, giving them whatever love and affection my near dormant heart could muster up. It was theirs. But I also knew that cats were often solitary and needed time alone. So during that time I either spent a few hours on the computer that I worked at home from or meticulously scrubbed my apartment. With eight indoor cats it was definitely necessary, and I was lucky I had so much free time on my hands. At least, I tried to make myself think it was a good thing I had so much free time.

I sighed, snapping out of my thoughts. I missed the days back in high school, when my airy daydreams were filled with joyful pictures of a bright looking future where I didn't spend my days with solely cats. I mean, there were always cats in my daydreams, I'd had an instant connection and love for them since I was a child, but they were always intertwined with visions of a loving husband, exited children, and a warm home.

I knew I had no chance of that now. I was no longer the bubbly, joyful, easily excitable Alice from high school who loved to shop with her girlfriends and dress up for parties.

That Alice was dead.

She died that night.

I was just an empty shell and my spark had long since extinguished. I don't even remember when the time blurred between my staying holed up alone out of hatred for myself to being too afraid of the outside world to leave. All I knew is that I deserved it.

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