Beginning to Live

Chapter 1

Hi! So, this is a new story that I started about two years ago and I just recently began to add more to it and fix it up. It deals with eating disorders and could possibly be hard to read for some. I've had body issues ever since I was a kid, so I definitely do connect with this story in a way, even though it is not my own personal story. Despite my struggles, I'm not, and I do not know anyone with the severe eating disorders displayed in this story, so if I get anything medically wrong or just something wrong or offensive in general, do not hesitate to tell me. I'm relying on Google a lot with this story to help me make it as realistic as possible.

With that being said, here's the first chapter, and afterwards, go check out my story Baby Be Mine if you want to!

Don't forget to review - see you at the bottom!

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.

…

The loud sounds of animated city life was something that slightly jarred me. People were bustling around, pushing past me and Renee at a speed that was just a little too fast, suitcases trailing behind them and briefcases swinging in their hands. Cars honked loudly in the long, exaggerated line of traffic and people hurried around to locate their Ubers or cabs.

"Well, I certainly didn't miss Philly, I can tell you that," Renee huffed indignantly. "It smells like car exhaust and homeless people."

I gave her a look, but didn't necessarily disagree. Back home in Olympia, the mood definitely wasn't quite as unsettling and rushed. It was calm and easy to be comfortable in. Renee and I had a nice, two-bedroom home in a neighborhood that was close to the Port of Olympia, where you had neighbors that waved to you every morning when you got the mail and every night when you locked up. Renee grew up in Philadelphia, but quickly moved across the state with her then boyfriend, Alec, to escape the smothering air that she insisted only resided in Philadelphia.

The only reason why she was here is because my grandfather, George, had passed away a few days ago. He'd be laid to rest the day after tomorrow, right beside my grandmother, who died ten years ago from a long battle with ovarian cancer. In his will, he'd left a hefty sum of money to his only daughter and his townhouse, regardless of their rocky relationship. After hearing the news, Renee kind of had this stoic expression on her face. Her and her parents hadn't had the best relationship, mainly because she moved so far away and visited on some Christmas days and Thanksgivings, but I knew that beyond her often hard exterior, my mother was heartbroken. I immediately noticed the way she, almost mechanically, made arrangements for us to move to Philadelphia without really once mentioning her father's sudden demise. She had put up that apathetic facade, something she regularly did when palpable emotion was too much for her to handle.

"Oh, I think that's our ride," Renee said, pointing to a large Escalade. We hurried over to our ride and began lifting our suitcases into the trunk. We'd only brought two each, and mom decided to have the rest of it shipped out, including her car.

The ride to our new home took almost thirty minutes because of all the traffic from rush hour. My mother was on her phone with the company she was employed with, who had a corporate office downtown. She was the VP at Samsung Semiconductor, which is what mainly caused her life to be so busy and hectic at times. While she was on the phone, I busied myself with peering out the window and soaking up the vivid city life of Philadelphia. The streets were long and filled with cars, although people were also milling about the pavements and parks that we passed. The blocks are filled with different kinds of stores and restaurants, seemingly busy with the amount of people entering and exiting. Olympia can sometimes be busy at certain times of the day, but not like Philadelphia. The various buildings, shops and townhouses definitely contributed to this attribute.

When we pulled up to our new home, I instantly liked it. It was a narrow townhouse with a brick exterior and dark wooden door. It looks small, but knowing that my grandparents had very successful careers before they retired assured me that the house was going to be gorgeous on the inside.

"Hurry, Isabella," Renee snapped. She was already out the car and had her suitcases from the trunk. I scurried after her and grabbed my own bags before we entered the home.

It was beautiful, as expected. The dark, hardwood floors were beautiful and the furniture surprisingly modern. Renee's heels click clacked against the wood as she inspected the house. Her nod of approval was all that she did before grabbing the handles of her suitcases and lugging them up the steps. I followed behind her, grunting at the weight of the bags as I lifted them up.

"This is your room," she said, pointing to a near empty bedroom with light grey walls and a queen bed with simple chevron bedding. I pulled my heavy bags into the room and sat down on the bed. It was extremely comfortable, but being in the room just felt… uncomfortable. It was so impersonal and bland, and the fact that I was sitting in it made me feel like an intruder.

I got up from the bed and decided to wander around a little bit. Renee was already in her room with the door shut, although I could still hear her shouting into her phone. I walked down the stairs and outside.

Washington was extremely rainy, but I knew that Philadelphia wasn't as much. I sunk down onto the step and let the sunrays warm my skin and the minimal breeze to glide against me. After a moment, I leaned back on my elbows and let the quietness surround me. It thankfully didn't seem busy around here, so maybe I could bring a chair out and sit once in a while. It was calming.

"Who are you?"

I jumped at the sudden voice and my eyes snapped open. A little kid, maybe six or seven, stood in front of me while sitting on his bike. I stared at him for a moment, before sitting up straight and answering. "I'm Bella. Who are you?"

He looked at the house, then back to me. "Masen. Why are you sitting in front of Mr. H's house?"

"Mr. H?" I questioned, then realized what he meant. Higginbottom. "Oh. He's my grandfather."

"Oh, okay." He immediately seemed to relax. "I sweep for him and he pays me twenty bucks every room."

I smiled at the ridiculous price. "Oh, that's sweet."

"Yup. So, are you visiting him?"

I frowned. He must not know that he died. "Oh, um… no." I wrung my hands and tried to figure out a way to say it. The door besides us suddenly opened and out came a guy. I froze a little upon seeing him, both from surprise and his defined and irrefutably attractive features. He was tall and lean, wearing khaki shorts and a crisp, white button down shirt. His hair was ragged and sticking all over the place, but it added to the appeal in some weird, perfect way. Since he was closing the door, his back had been turned, but when he turned, I took what felt like an embarrassingly loud breath. His eyes, even from a few feet away, were an impossibly bright green, standing out patently against his pale skin. They fit so well with his hair - a deep, russet brown with a slight smattering of bright red that noticeably glinted in the sun.

He noticed Masen and I and his eyebrows rose. "Hello," he said.

I stood and tried desperately not to stare too much at his face. "Hi. I'm Bella, um, Mr. Higginbottom was my grandfather." Did he ask, you moron?

"Ah," he said, nodding his head curtly. He then turned his attention to the little boy as he shuffled down his steps. "Mase, I'll be back in a few. Head back inside."

"I wanna say hi to Mr. H," Masen whined. "I haven't seen him in, like, two weeks."

My eyes bounced back and forth between the two, hating how uncomfortable the atmosphere suddenly turned. The guy frowned and gave Masen a stern look. "I'll talk to you when I get home. For now, you gotta head back inside."

Masen sighed before kicking his kick stand back into place. The guy helped him lift the bike into the house and the door shut closed behind him rather roughly. This left me and the guy alone for a few seconds, before he nodded at me once again and headed to his car. I tried hard not to gawk at his retreating form, unsure at these feelings that suddenly enthralled my body. Never have I ever felt such an intense yearning for know someone as I had at that moment.

Our door swept open suddenly, causing me to latch onto the banister to keep from being pushed over by its abrupt force. I looked behind me at my mother, whose face was pinched in noticeable annoyance as she held her phone in her hand.

"I need to speak with you," she just about snapped.

I swallowed and followed after her into the house, letting the door close softly behind me. Renee was often in a sour mood, especially when it came to me, yet she seemed especially irritable at the moment. I stood awkwardly by the foyer, waiting for her to speak as she clenched and unclenched her jaw in a steady rhythm.

"I just got off the phone with your father," she started. "And do you know what he found in your drawer from this summer?" I figured she didn't really want me to answer, so I just stood there. "He found diet pills. Diet pills." She laughed cynically, dryly, and glared over at me. "For my daughter, who weighs eighty-eight pounds."

I clenched my jaw shut and mentally lashed out on myself for forgetting my pills. I figured I'd left them at his house, but I didn't think he'd actually go in my room there and find out. My voice was small and meek as I tried to muster up an excuse, "T-they were from years ago."

Renee narrowed her eyes. "I'm not stupid, Bella. And frankly, I'm appalled that you would think that I am." She crossed her arms and stared at the floor for a moment, thinking. "I'm making an appointment with a really good doctor for as soon as possible."

"Mom, I can do better," I said, stepping closer. "I-I just need time to –"

"Time to what? Kill yourself?" She scowled and opened up her phone, scrolling immediately, no doubt searching for a doctor to fix her problem of a daughter. "This is a big city, there's loads of treatment for you to get over this irrational, disgusting disease." She paused and looked up at me, her finger poised carefully on her phone. "I mean, have you even seen yourself recently? I've tried to read up on and understand this… this sickness that you have, but I don't understand how your idea of perfection is looking like a goddamn skeleton. And no matter how much treatment you go through, you're not getting any better."

Her words hurt deeper than I think she even realized. Knowing my mother, her words were always used as a way to get her point across, and her point in this matter was palpable. She always wanted her words as lethal as possible as a way to ensure they'd be listened to, but it only made my blistering wounds inside unbearably deeper.

"I'll talk to you later about it, okay?"

And when she was done talking, she was done. I watched her walk way, her phone back again to her ear as she disappeared into the kitchen. I headed upstairs to my room then and closed the door. Its presence was something I rejoiced in since mom took my door from our old house, insisting that privacy only enabled my condition, which I suppose was true. Still, it hurt to have that sort of commonality snatched from my control.

The door didn't lock, but I'm glad that meant I wouldn't be tempted to lock it. I'd probably lose that battle, and Renee would definitely think I'm hiding something if the door was locked.

Once I let my overflowing emotions slowly ebb away, I grabbed my phone from my bag on the floor. I'd had a few text messages that I missed from when we boarded the plane, until now. They were all from Angela, a friend back in Olympia.

Before I left Olympia, I didn't have many friends. During my high school years, when I became really insecure and felt my control slipping away, I had friends, but that slowly changed when I did. I secluded myself, scared to sit beside anyone at lunch in fear of them watching me eat. Or watching me not eat. I preferred the quietness of the library, or the small, compactness of a bathroom stall. People began to talk about my dramatic weight loss from a size eight to a size zero, and I suppose that should have made me happy, but I just didn't see what they did. By sophomore year, I weighed less than one-hundred pounds and stood at 5'5, but still, I felt the need to eat less and less and work out more and more. When gym class came around, I would dress myself in the bathrooms as opposed to the locker rooms, which made girls talk even more. Once, I passed out during a game of dodgeball and practically had to beg my gym teacher not to call my parents when I regained consciousness seconds later, insisting that I just didn't get much sleep the night before.

I could tell some girls admired the way that I lost weight – in the beginning, they constantly asked me what I did and how I did it. When I whispered that I just didn't eat really, their stares turned skeptic to the whole idea and even they retracted themselves from me.

Eventually, during my senior year and in admittedly the worse state I've ever been in, I became the girl who no one wanted to know. I trekked to the back of the library during lunch to do push-ups and sit ups instead of eating. During gym class, I hid out in the locker rooms in fear of passing out again. In class, I didn't speak, even when spoken to, which hurt my grades enormously. At home, my mother was busy and did not take notice as much as school faculty did. They called her one day, in April, and the look she gave me when she finally seemed to be seeing at me for the first time in what felt like years, was something I don't think I would ever forget. It was one of those looks that you could only muster up when you saw something really frightening and distressing. Something that would forever permeate the space inside your head and cling onto the back of your mind until it was ready to randomly resurface at any given moment.

At seventy-two pounds, I had to be taken to see a doctor and admitted into an inpatient care facility. I was fed through a NG tube until the doctor said it was okay for me to be let off, and mom didn't allow me to be sent home until about a week before graduation. I honestly thought I would finally be free to do my own thing and to detach myself away from the crippling life living with my mother. Yet, I couldn't leave. I was an average high school student, who didn't get accepted into college and was at risk of starving myself.

Angela was a friend I met while at an eating disorder residential center in Bellevue when I was nineteen. She had bulimia, yet had a much more hopeful future than I could ever dream of. She was twenty-three and wanted to get better for her boyfriend, Ben, and her son Will, who was three years old. Her motivation for Ben and Will trumped her desire to lose weight and I really admired her strength. We became close and I longed for her ability to stay strong and optimistic in a time where I just couldn't be. It's almost as if I fed off of her willingness. Unsurprisingly, Angela left not long after she first came.

I opened Angela's messages and a smile instantly bloomed across my face.

Hey! Thinking of you. Here's a pic of me, Ben and Will at the needle! It's so high, you have to come back and visit us sometime. Love ya!

The next few messages were of her, Ben and Will. They were beautiful pictures and showed how truly happy Angela was. I wanted to call her, hear her voice since I haven't seen her in months, but decided against it and instead sent a text of my own.

I'm thinking of you too. We just arrived in Philly. I really do hope I come visit you three again someday. Love you too.

I took my own picture of me smiling. When I went to view it, I cringed at my appearance. There were dark circles under my eyes and my hair was dull and limp by my cheeks. The bones in my face stood out with an uncomfortable prominence and I immediately deleted the awful photo. The message would suffice.

My door opened suddenly and I looked up at Renee. She had an expectant look on her face and I looked at the clock instinctively. It was noon.

Fuck.

I stood and headed outside of my room with Renee. We had no food in the house, so I guess we'd have to go out and eat.

"There's a lot of places around here," Renee said. "I'm sort of in the mood for Panera Bread. Good?"

"Sure," I shrugged. She glanced at me curtly as we walked outside the house. "I'm sure you'll like this – there's one that's walking distance, right around the corner."

It took about fifteen minutes to walk to, and it was a very stiff walk. I knew Renee hated this as much as I did, but I also knew she loved me in some weird, twisted, Renee fashion. She wanted to make sure I was healthy and happy, and while she could sometimes be the vilest person I've ever had to encounter, I knew that vileness somehow transferred to being all for my wellbeing.

The restaurant wasn't packed, thankfully. That meant we could easily be in and out, as long as I ate whatever Renee pushed my way. I wanted something small, so I just opted for a simple, Caesar half salad and Renee got a chicken panini.

"So," Renee started when we sat down. "I'm sorry I yelled at you earlier. I was just agitated, with work and…"

"Me," I said flatly. "I know. I'm sorry."

"Really, it's my fault. I let it get so out of control. If you'd been living with your father in Forks, perhaps he would have noticed sooner." She waved this thought off with a few flicks of her hands. "But that's in the past. We have to think about your future." She pulled out her phone and showed me a website of a care facility. "This is an intensive outpatient program, and it's a really good one with spectacular reviews. You go there three times a week, on evenings. There's group-based therapy offered that helps with coping and a nutritionist even sits down with you during a meal to help you deal with your emotions." She reached over to grab my hands and I stared at her stupidly. "I want you to feel better, Bella. As soon as you get this issue under control, you can come work for me and actually start building up your life."

I frowned. "Mom, I don't want to work in business."

Her eyebrows rose. "No? Well, what else can you do, Bella, with only a high school diploma? You don't have any job experience and it doesn't seem like you're going to college in the foreseeable future. You know how hard it is to get a decent job with no college degree."

I let go of her hands and wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans. This is when I become neurotic and irritable – when she tries to take over my life like this. I opened my mouth to protest, to say anything that would answer her in a suitable way, but nothing came out. Renee gave me a wry smile. "Look. This is a spectacular chance for you to become someone. You're a Higginbottom and Higginbottom's never fall to the bottom, only rise to the top." She chuckled at her joke, but I couldn't smile. I just looked down at my hands and waited patiently for our food.

A few moments later, her name was called and mom went to retrieve our trays. She began to eat her sandwich and I couldn't help but stare as she gnawed on the three-hundred-calorie, carb-filled, sliced ciabatta, loaded with even more calories and fat slathered between them. She had to be eating almost eight hundred calories in that meal.

"You know," mom said, wiping her mouth, and my eyes flickered to hers. "I used to want to be as skinny as all the models out there. But then I realized starving myself only made me hungry and angry."

It makes me perfect. It keeps me in control.

When I didn't respond, mom grabbed my fork and began spearing some lettuce and meat on the utensil. She handed it to me and I gingerly lifted the food to my mouth and let my lips clamp over it. I had to swallow a few times as I did this, and when I finally put the fork down, I begrudgingly began to chew.

Renee and I didn't talk anymore while we ate.

…

That's chapter one... tell me if you liked it or not in the reviews, please! I love when people follow and favorite, but I also really, really love reviews :) I've already written several chapters for this story, so just like BBM, I'm going to try and get them out every week or so.