I walked into my house, not bothering to yell that I was home. I knew my parents were both at work, so I had the house to myself. I kicked off my shoes and looked into the mirror. My normally curly hair was straightened, some of it falling over my face. My emerald green eyes were dull with sadness, and my hoodie hid my body. A scar on my cheek stood out strongly against my pale skin and I frowned, pulling off my hoodie. My frown only deepened at the sight of the scars that littered my arms. I sighed again and headed to the fridge, pulling out a slice of leftover pizza. As it began to heat in the microwave I pulled out my phone, checking my messages. I frowned, noticing no new messages from anyone.

I huffed and leaned my head back against the wall. I knew I was stress eating, but... Carlisle and I had been fighting on and off lately. Today the verbal banter had been so loud and intense that both my best friend, Alice, and his, Aro, had backed off and stood by, ready to intervene if need be. He was still mad and I couldn't answer Alice when she had asked me what had started it. To be honest... I didn't remember. I just said hey and kissed him, and the next thing I know we're fighting. The microwave dinged and I pulled out my plate, taking a bite of cheesy, mushroom goodness.

Oh, I'm Esme, by the way. Esme Platt. I suppose that's important.

I took my plate to the table and sat down, looking out the window and across the street. There stood the old Swan Manor. It was the oldest home on the street, and maybe even the town of forks. I can only imagine the beauty it must have been in it's hay day, but now it was run down. The outside paint was peeling, windows were broken, the grass was stomped on and yellow, but the most noticeable thing was the tree. The house had been empty so long that a tree had grown through it's three stories, branches poking out of it's third story windows. The only thing keeping so many people away was the price. It was a massive home, plenty of rooms, and it included a huge hunk of forest. Well I suppose the tree also didn't help it's popularity. The "for sale" sign had seen better days.

This said, I was pretty shocked when a truck pulled into the driveway. The driver jumped out and was wearing a hooded cloak. I'm not even kidding. Picture Raven from the Teen Titans... I wasn't even sure if it was a boy or girl. I could also see long, dark wash jeans and combat boots. Their hands were covered with gloves. There wasn't an inch of skin showing, and with the hood up not even their face was visible. They slapped a "sold" sticker on the sign and began unloading the truck. They were nearly six feet tall...

I shook my head and shrugged it off. It wasn't any of my concern. I shot a text to Carlisle and waited. Almost instantly it said it had been read, but it never showed him typing. I waited longer and decided to call him, apologize for whatever I had done like that had made him so upset. I dialed his number and it rang once... twice... thr-

Voicemail.

He sent me to voicemail. He fucking ignored my call. I closed my eyes, blinking back tears. Or trying to, at least. I felt a few tears escape and looked up, finding the figure across the street looking toward me. Well... I mean... Kind of. I still couldn't see their face, but I could swear we were making eye contact. They tilted their head and I looked away, blinking back more tears. I needed my razor... and maybe a cigarette. I slowly made my way up the steps and went first to the bathroom, knowing I wouldn't be returning from within my bedroom for a long time. When I came in I remembered my window had been left open. I went to go close it and found a piece of paper held down by a stone tiger.

I know you don't know me, and, hell, I don't know you. But please, whomever has made you cry, they don't deserve your tears, nor your pain. Don't show them they have affected you. You're worth it, show them that.

-I.S. (A friend)

I read and reread this several times. Who was I.S.? And how the hell did they get this note to my second story window? You know what, that question didn't matter, because they were right. Carlisle wasn't worth a single scar on my body. The one's due to my own mistakes were a different story. With this thought in my head, along with the one that someone cared, someone who didn't need to, I went to bed. It didn't really cross my mind that it was a little strange, but I would think about that later.