Hello all you beautiful people. I'm back!

Yes, this is a Bree and Diego fic, but if you're expecting it to be like 'It's A Ninja Thing', think again. It's rated M for a reason.

Reviews are much appreciated, as they make my heart happy.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything, unfortunately. Um, this story may be triggering to anorexics or self harmers, you have been warned.

Bree sat in a cubicle of the changing room's bathroom, getting changed for PE. She always got changed in the bathrooms, she was afraid of people judging her for being fat and for the scars on her sides, hips, thighs... It also meant she didn't have to see the other thin girls with their perfect lives getting changed. She hated how they were perfect without even trying.

She liked PE though, it was an excuse to exercise. Over summer she had used it as an excuse to run and go to the gym a lot: she wanted to be fit enough to do well in PE. Her foster parents just smiled and accepted it, like they did with everything she did. Her parents died when she was twelve, and she was put into the system. She had been placed with her foster parents a month or two later. They let her away with most things, which was nice.

Her stomach groaned. She couldn't even remember the last time she ate, yesterday? The day before? Did it matter? She drank from her water bottle and took a chewing gum out of the packet to keep down the noise.

She put on her PE uniform, pinned up her hair, and lined up outside the gym with the other girls and guys in her class. Everyone had their own little clique. Bree didn't really have any friends, let alone a clique, so she just stood near some girls in her class. Close enough that she didn't look like a loner, but far away enough that she didn't look like she was trying to include herself into their conversation about some hair product or other. Perfect.

She went to high school in Forks, and she hated it so much. Not just the school, but the town itself. She'd lived there for over four years, but she still yearned for the town that she grew up in. The malls, cafes, the anonymity of it all. There were thousands of people walking down the streets every day; she had only been a face in the crowd. No one looked at her twice, just the way she liked it. But here in Forks, everyone knew who you were and you couldn't do anything without everyone knowing about it. All she wanted was to be left alone.

"Okay class, let's start off with some laps!" shouted the teacher about the din of the students chatter. This announcement was met with groans from everyone. "Five laps around the hall, and no cutting corners!" The teacher blew her whistle, and they were off. Most of the girls lagged behind, chatting, while the guys ran ahead, showing off how fit and masculine they were. Bree held the middle ground. This was nothing; she could run miles and miles on end without getting tired. PE was a joke in school. The stretches did nothing, and neither did any of the sports.

A wave of dizziness brought Bree out of the clouds and back into reality, and she fell to the ground. Oh shit, she thought to herself. She felt like she was about to faint, but that soon passed/.

"You OK, Bree?" the teacher called out to her.

Bree flashed a smile in the direction of the teacher and laughed, "Yeah, I'm fine, just clumsy!"

The students who had gathered around her went back to their task of pointless laps.

"Are you sure you're OK, Bree?" came a voice from her right. The voice belonged to that of Diego, one of the coolest guys in the school. She had had a crush on him for ages, but she never thought he would look twice at her.

"Yeah, I'm fine, don't worry." Bree smiled at him.

"You had an odd expression on your face before you fell is all." He shrugged and held out a hand to her to help her up. Why was he looking at me before I fell? Bree thought to herself.

"I could feel my foot slip, that's all. Thank you for your concern." She took his hand and pulled herself up from the ground.

"Look" he dropped his voice; "I saw these marks on your side when you fell..." he sounded concerned. Why would he be concerned about me? He doesn't even know me.

"Oh, those? They're just stretch marks. I was a fat child." She forced a laugh. Liar...

He didn't look convinced, but the teacher blew the whistle for everyone to gather around while she explained what they were going to do for the class.

When Bree got home from school, she dumped her bag in her room, put in her headphones and lay down on her bed. She was absolutely exhausted. School really took it out of her these days. All her energy came from coffee, caffeine pills and cigarettes these days.

She reached into her dresser and took out a pill from her packet of "vitamins". She had found an empty bottle of vitamins and filled it with diet pills. No one would think that the vitamins weren't vitamins.

Diego hadn't spoken to her since PE, but he had occasionally glanced over at her with a queer expression on his face, thoughtfulness and something else... Worry? Pity?

You're imagining it. Why would he be looking at you? You're not pretty, or smart, or funny. You are completely unremarkable.

She lay there in bed going over her conversation with him in her head.

He was just being nice. You just want it to be more. You're pathetic.

But he kept looking at me in class afterwards, she thought back, that has to mean something, right?

He just wanted to make sure you weren't ODing or cutting under the table. He knows you cut, and he doesn't care. Deal with it.

She argued with herself until she eventually dozed off into a fitful sleep.

She woke to the sound of her foster-mother knocking on her bedroom door. Her foster-dad never came into her room, in case there were bras on the floor or something, he was kind of weird like that. He was really nice though, he never tried to replace her real dad, and she really appreciated that.

"Come in" she called, opening a bleary eye. She checked the clock on her wall, half six. She had been asleep for hours.

Her foster-mother sat down on the bed beside her. "Your dinner is on the table, sweetie" she said, smoothing Bree's hair. It was shoulder length now. She would have to cut it soon. She liked having short hair; it didn't get in your way and it took little or no effort to maintain.

"I'll eat it later, I'm going back to sleep. I am so tired..." She closed her eye again and rolled into a more comfortable position.

"OK dear. I'll leave it in the microwave. John and I are going to dinner with my friend Carly, we'll be back late or tomorrow morning, depending if we decide to drink or not. Don't forget to do your homework and call us if you need anything." Her foster-mother got up and left, closing the door silently after her.

Bree rolled over and pretended that she'd gone back to sleep. She waited until she heard the click of the front door, her mother trying to close it as quietly as she could, before jumping up out of bed. She sparked up a cigarette and inhaled deeply. She had started smoking when she was fourteen. Her real dad used to, and the smell reassured her. Her foster-parents didn't know about it, and Bree really didn't want them to find out, they would just want her to quit.

When she'd finished her cigarette, she sprayed the room with deodorant and opened the window to air out the room. She changed from the clothes she was wearing in school to her work-out clothes. She ran each day, but because of the dismal weather in Forks, she had to use the treadmill. It meant she knew exactly how far and fast she had ran, but she liked being outside, seeing the scenery fly past her, feeling like she was flying.

After some stretches, she stepped on the treadmill. Let's see how long you can last today, she thought to herself, before putting on her headphones and setting the speed.

Forty minutes and ten miles later, she turned off the treadmill and collapsed. Five minutes better than yesterday, not bad. Not great, but not bad. She got up, wiped down the treadmill with a towel and wrote down how far she had run in her journal. She kept a journal of how much she ate, how much exercise she did and her weight. At five foot six she was one hundred pounds.

Way too fat, she thought to herself.

She walked to the kitchen and took out a pint glass, filled it with water, and drained with one gulp. She opened the microwave and saw what her mother had left out for her. Pork chop, carrots, mash and gravy. Her mouth filled with saliva as she thought how delicious it would taste. She sighed as she picked it up and buried it under the other rubbish in the bin before collapsing on a chair. Her leg muscles ached and sweat was pouring down her back.

But it'll be worth it.

She was putting her plate in the dishwasher, when the phone rang, causing her to jump. She didn't recognise the number on the Caller ID, and was confused. No one ever called the house phone. Everyone had their own mobile phone, and the house phone was mainly just there in case someone's phone battery was flat or something.

"Hello?" she answered.

"Good evening, I hope I'm not interrupting anything but uh, is Bree home by any chance?" the male voice on the other end asked. Why would someone be calling for her?

"I'm Bree. Who is this, may I ask?" she asked politely, racking her brain trying to figure out who on earth it might be.

"It's Diego. From school." Diego. Calling her? Was she imagining this? Her heart skipped a beat and she gripped the phone tighter.

"How did you get my number?" Her voice shook a little and she really hoped he didn't notice.

"I work in the office sometimes. I just wanted to make sure you were OK. You had a bad fall in PE today; I hope you're not in any pain or anything..." His voice trailed off. She remembered that he had seen her scars. She hoped that he believed her when she had said they were stretch marks, or that he had forgotten about them altogether.

"Thank you. I'm fine now. Just sleep deprived. And hungry." Hungry? Why did you say that? What if he figures out our secret? "I haven't had my dinner yet" she explained apologetically.

"Do you want to meet up for a bite to eat? I kind of want to talk to you..." Her stomach sank. You complete idiot! He knows! He's going to tell everyone your secret, and they are going to force you to eat and make you disgusting again! Is that what you WANT? Make up an excuse to get out of this.

"I'm sorry, but I can't. My parents are out so I have to stay home and mind the house." That should do it.

"Some other time then. But please Bree, I want to talk to you about those..." his voice trailed off again. "How about we grab a coffee tomorrow after school?"

Is he asking me out?

Bree's heart was beating really fast now.

He wants to talk about your scars. You can't go!

"But you would have to be seen in public with me." Bree thought that he would think again when he realised he would have to be seen with the town loser in public, but evidently not.

"I don't care. Please Bree? I'll buy you whatever you want. I'm just worried about you." He sounded really nervous. Nervous? Talking to her? No way.

"Why are you worried about me? You have no idea who I am, what my story is, anything at all. Why should you care?" Bree's voice sounded accusing and angry, and she instantly regretted it. He was just being nice.

"I care Bree. I do. I know you don't have many friends, and that can't be easy. I want you to know that you can talk to me if you need to."

"Well, I don't need to talk to anyone because I am perfectly fine." She was angry. How dare he try to put himself in her shoes. "I have to go do homework. Goodbye Diego."

She heard him say "No, wait," but she had put the receiver down.

Well, she thought, that was weird.

That night, Bree lay in her bed, watching House on her laptop whilst having a cigarette. Her parents weren't back. She had sent her foster-mum a text message asking when they would be back, and she had replied tomorrow. She loved it when her family were gone; it meant she could do whatever she wanted.

Her hands shook as she lifted the butt to her mouth. She shook a lot these days. She raised her hand and watched it twitch. She had heard it happened to people who were anorexic, but she wasn't anywhere near that.

Why don't you get up and do some exercise? That fucking voice in her head. It drove her crazy, especially at night. She couldn't even lie down and watch something she loved without feeling guilty anymore. She would wake up at 5 am, and that voice would tell her to exercise, have a shower. It would do her make-up for her, pick out her clothes, pack her bag... She didn't do anything for herself anymore. She just functioned.

She stubbed out her cigarette and got down on the floor. Her floor was always clear. She stuffed everything in her wardrobe; her clothes, her books, everything. When she had time she would clean out the wardrobe, throw all the dirty clothes into the wash, put the books on the shelves, etc. She found the strangest things when she cleaned, things she had forgotten she had; a book she had loved when she was little, a drawing she did a while ago. She had once found a pair of jeans that fit her when she was ten. She tried them on and was amazed when they still fit her. She hadn't grown much since her parents died.

Sit did fifty sit-ups, fifty push ups and fifty bench presses. She hated that when you were doing sit-ups your stomach stuck out, looking huge and disgusting. That's because your stomach is huge and disgusting, you stupid girl. Do you honestly think you've finished? Do fifty more of each, you lazy cow.

Bree sighed.

You wanted this. You wanted to be perfect. This is how perfection is attained.

There was no point in arguing with that voice. That voice knew what was good for her, and how to get it.

She remembered when it all started.

Bree had come home from school one afternoon and found a note on the table from her parents saying that they had just driven into the town to get some milk and bread. They did this quite often so she just sat down at the kitchen table and started on her homework. After a while she heard a knock on the door. She assumed her parents had just forgotten their key, so she ran to the door, ready to give them both a big hug, when she saw the blue uniform through the stained glass of the door.

"Good afternoon Miss Tanner, I'm Officer Daniel." He looked past her through the hall.

"Has something happened?" Bree gripped the doorframe. She knew in her gut that something bad had happened.

"May I come in?" He wouldn't meet her eye.

She nodded silently and opened the door fully. She led him to the living room, sat down on the armchair and gestured for him to sit on the one opposite her. He sat down carefully. Bree lifted her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She was scared.

"I have some bad news." He looked like he wished that he was anywhere else right now. He took a deep breath and continued. "Your parents were driving down a one way street, and another car came down the wrong way and hit them head on." He finally met Bree's eyes. " Your parents were killed instantly." Bree broke his gaze and stared at the ground. She couldn't believe it. They couldn't be...dead. She had seen them this morning! They were going to go out for Chinese tonight for dinner. Her dad was supposed to take her cycling this weekend. He must be mistaken. It couldn't be her parents. No, it had to be someone else's.

"I am very sorry for your loss." He finished. He had no idea what e was supposed to do. He looked at her with assessing eyes, trying to figure out how she would react. Would she cry? Would she scream? Would she accuse him of lying? However he thought she was going to react, he was wrong. She just stared at the ground.

She was completely numb. Too numb to react.

"Do you have any family you want me to call?" he asked after a long silence.

"No. We have no family, my grandparents died when I was young, and I have no aunts or uncles " Her voice was completely void of emotion.

"Oh. I'm sorry, but I will have to call social services. You can't stay here on your own."

She had been put in the system that day, and since then she had had eating problems. Food was the only thing she could control. No one noticed, because no one cared enough to. And that was the way she liked it. She could do whatever she wanted, because no one cared enough to stop her, and even if she died, no one would miss her.

She finished her exercises and fell into her bed, but she just couldn't sleep. She just wanted to be happy. But she knew she was too fat to be happy, too worthless. She was nothing.

And it was killing her.

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Paula

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