(( FOURTH STORRYYY. Hostage is still being written but this demanded to be put online. How do you like it? Review me and tell me how much it sucks, and how much I suck. :D ))

It's 3 am. It's a time where the bars are closed, and no one is out. The stoplights blink to conserve power, and there aren't any cars on the road. This is my favorite time of day.

This is when I don't have to deal with anyone.

The overly bright lights of the abandoned laundry mat light up the street, as I take my laundry from the backseat of the crappy station I call my own. It was hot, even without the sun, and I mentally scorned myself for wearing long sleeves and pants. I entered the laundry mat, thankful for the air conditioning, and pushed a pile of my long blond curls out of my pale face.

It had been over a year since I had gone out in the sun during the day. My face had lost all color from tanning, and I knew in comparison to the rest of these Louisiana natives, I looked like I had been locked in a basement for all my life. I didn't so much mind my lack of a tan, as it came with the convenience of avoiding human contact.

I silently loaded my clothes into the washer, enjoying the silence. Shutting the door to the washer, I caught a glimpse of my reflection and flinched.

To put it simply, there isn't a good side of my face.

My face is covered in scars, my left side with three long scars and my right with two. The left side had one long one from my cheek to my ear, with two smaller scars below it, while my right side had a scar from my nose and over my eye to my eyebrow, with a smaller one on my neck. Beneath my clothes were probably hundreds more, mostly on my back and arms.

I wasn't exactly people friendly and people weren't exactly friendly to me.

I hadn't always looked like this. But that was something I had my therapist Bella for. Not that we talked about it. Ever.

I was so absorbed angsting over my face, I almost didn't hear the door creak open, and someone walk in. I tensed. This night was going fucking great.

Of course, the man who walked in had to be fucking gorgeous, with beautiful honey eyes and bronze hair. His body looked fit, and made me extremely self conscious about my own long thin limbs. He walked in, not acknowledging my presence until I slowly inserted my coins, the noise of them clanking making him twist around in shock.

"Holy shit." He whispered, and I felt my heart stop.
"You scared the shit out of me."

I felt reality crushing me, and I turned away to stop him from seeing my tears. I bit my lip, and tugged at the sleeves on my shirt before replying.

"I know. I look like a fucking serial killer's victim, but I just want to do laundry. I come specifically at this hour so I wouldn't scare the fuck out of someone like you, so if you wait a half hour, I'll be done and you won't have to see me." My drawled voice sounded really cold, and I was proud of myself for not letting any emotion show.

I heard shuffling, and the man sat next to me. I tried to move, but I felt his hand grab my wrist. I kept my head down, looking at my feet. Panic flooded me. I wanted him to let go.

"Listen." He said, taking a breath. " You didn't scare me because of your..face. You scared me because I didn't hear you." His voice was free of an accent. It was weird.

"Bullshit." I snorted, and tried to pull my arm away. He wouldn't let go. " I know I'm a freak."

" You a freak?" he asked, voice cold. My eyebrows furrowed. "I go through life not aware of my surroundings. I don't even hear anything over the noise in my head. I came in here because it was silent." He paused. I kept twisting and pulling my arm to get away.

"The only reason I didn't hear you, was because I couldn't hear your thoughts. Who's the freak now?" His voice held no sarcasm, and I stilled in his grip. Slowly, I looked up to meet his eyes, and his stare held nothing but pain. His eyes also had a dangerous glint to them, and I shivered involuntarily. He let me go. He tried to move, but I grabbed his arm this time.

"Is that why you're here this late at night?" I asked softly, and I suddenly noticed how cool his skin was. He laughed, and I frowned.

"You believe me?" he asked, smiling slightly. I nodded.

"I figure someone who looks as perfect as you do has to have a good reason not to be around people. And since you're paler than I am, I expect you're either from Antarctica or go out during the day less than I do."

He laughed a comfortable laugh, and I caught myself smiling.

"I could just be insane, you know. Schizophrenic." His voice was quiet, as if he was testing me.

"And even if you were, you'd still be more socially accepted than me." I replied darkly. He froze, looking at me as if I was an interesting puzzle. I let go of his arm and offered him my hand.

"My name is Jasper." He reached out and shook my hand.

"Edward Cullen."

I couldn't help but enjoy the electricity thing him brought. No one had touched me in years. No one dared to. They made a point in avoiding it.

The washer buzzed, and I released him to change my things into the dryer. Edward put in a load of his own, and resumed his position next to me, grinning widely.

"What are you smiling about?" I asked him bitterly, and he chuckled.

"You have no idea how relaxing it is to not hear anything." His eyes shut, and he took a deep breath.
"And at the same time, how aggravating."

I was suddenly thankful he couldn't read my thoughts. Too many personal things lingered in my mind. I shut my own eyes, taking a breath, before opening them to see his gold eyes starring me down. I lowered my eyes trying to avoid his stare, but a cool hand lifted my chin. He fingered my scars, and I snapped my eyes shut. I expected him to ask about the scars. I expected him to walk away. I expected him to be revolted.

I did not expect his lips crashing against mine, or his tongue tracing my mouth. I also didn't expect me to kiss back. As quick as it happened, it was over, his eyes looking panicked to the outside. I could have sworn his eyes were black. He stood up, and threw his clothes from the washing into the bag he had brought in, and turned back to me. He looked like he was panicking.

"Why?" I asked simply, and he froze.

"I have to. Before it's too late." I didn't question his reply. I dropped my head, cursing myself. I should have expected this.

"Friday, 3am. Come." He said simply, and another kiss met my lips. Then, he was gone.

I sat there until sunrise, trying to determine if he was crazy, or if it was just me.

Bella Swan was a sweetheart. Not only did she take my late night appointments for therapy, but she also showed a real concern for me. She had lowered her rates for me significantly, and I knew how much she charged her high profile clients. But while her high profile clients complained about feeling sad, my problems went much deeper.

Her office was high class, and I laid on the leather sofa staring at the ceiling. She starred at me with concern in her eyes, clicking her pen ever so often.

.
"Are you eating?" She asked.
"Yeah."
"Are you eating enough?" She tried again.
"Probably not." I said honestly, and she frowned.
"When's the last time you slept?" I let out a large sigh.
"Three days ago."
"With or without sleeping pills, Jasper."
"With."
She scribbled something furious on her pad, and sighed herself.
"Did you dream?" she asked quietly.
"Yeah." I replied.
"Was it bad?"

The flashes of knives, and blood came to mind. The begging. The screams.

"Yeah. It was bad."

She ran her hands through her hair, trying to compose herself.

"Jasper, you have to sleep. And you have to eat. You have to go out into the sun. You have to live. You're wasting away." She paused, making sure I was paying attention.
"You're a foot taller than me, and probably weigh less. I mean. I try really hard to communicate with you and I –"

"I met someone." I burst out, interrupting her speech. She opened her mouth to scold me before realizing what I said, and her mouth opened to an O shape.

"Really? Where?" She asked quickly.

"His name is Edward. I met him at the laundry mat." I replied. I dropped my gaze from the ceiling to her face, and saw her smiling.

"And do you like Edward?" She asked. I blushed, and I heard her intake a breath.
"Oh… OH." She said, and sat up, leaning towards me.

"What does he look like?" She asked, the therapist side gone, and now the girly friend remaining."

" He's perfect." I replied. She smiled, but her smiled faltered quickly.

"Jasper." Her voice was warning, "You've got to be careful. You're just getting back on track."

Her timer rang, and she gave a disappointed look at the clock. It was already midnight. I had always felt bad that she took me so late, but she claimed I was worth it.

I never felt worth anything.

I got into my car and silently drive to my apartment, I couldn't shake the feeling of paranoia, like someone was watching me. I exited the car, and lit a cigarette, enjoying the cloudless night. Tomorrow night I'd see Edward again. I kicked the dirt on the ground, silently wondering if he'd notice the dark circles under my eyes. I wanted to try to sleep tonight, event if it meant the night terrors. Finishing my cigarette, I looked out into the night, trying to find the eyes I felt watching me. No one was around. I tried to convince myself it was from lack of sleep, and entered the one room apartment. I went right to the medicine cabinet, and took 3 sleeping pills.

I prayed for a night without nightmares. I might as well have yelled at the sky.