Tags or Warnings: Bisexuality, homosexuality, graphic M/F (consensual, dubious consent, and nonconsensual), potentially graphic F/F and M/M. Abuse of various sorts. Eating disorders.
The consensual relationships are all canon.
Chapter One
"We clean our plates, yet we're still famished...starving for something other than food." Kate Wicker.
(141 lbs)
Alice Cullen came out into the cool Forks night and stood across the street, watching me. I'd been sitting on the bench outside of her apartment complex for the last two days. Hope and fear kept a strange company in my stomach, making my palms sweat where I'd tucked them under my armpits for warmth. The sight of her made my shoulders sag—in relief and in resignation.
She crossed the asphalt barefoot and stood in front of me, arms wrapped around her tiny body and toes curled from the cold fall air. In her arms was a shawl which she reached out and handed to me.
"I'll get it dirty," I said. I eyed her arms, bare. She was wearing a flimsy tank-top and polka-dot pajama pants, neither of which were doing much to keep her warm. "You put it on. What the hell are you even wearing? It's freezing out here."
"You're a lot colder than I am," she replied, perfect teeth chattering. She gave me a smile, and the light from the setting sun behind me lit her up like a fucking angel. Her head cocked towards her apartment. "Coming in?"
"If you'll have me."
"Of course, silly." She picked up my filthy backpack and tucked it over her fragile, bare shoulder. She slipped her hand in mine, soft and warm. I decided then that I was in love with her. With her kind smiles and smooth, pale skin, she was the most beautiful girl that I'd ever seen. I'd decided since Phoenix that I was going to become a lesbian, despite being attracted to boys for as long as I could remember.
Alice made lesbianism easy.
The inside of her apartment was warm. It smelled like the ocean, a blue candle burned low on the coffee table. It was tiny, but the furniture looked new and the walls were covered in beautiful framed drawings. Alice must have been a beautiful artist. An episode of a reality show played on the television mounted on the wall. It was the biggest television I'd ever seen.
"Home sweet home," Alice said, smiling at my amazed expression.
The bathroom had so many products that I didn't know what to choose. Shampoos and conditioners, whitening toothpastes, hairsprays, body washes and lotions. It also had a door—one that closed and even locked. Was locking doors allowed in Alice's apartment? I wasn't sure. In the end, I kept it unlocked. Better to be safe than sorry. I left my dirty clothes in a pile by the door like Alice had asked me too, ignored the mirrors, and stepped into the porcelain shower/bath combination. The water was hot almost immediately, stinging my icy skin. I shampooed twice.
"Bella? Are you okay?"
Jolting, I slipped and nearly fell. "Fine—I'll be out in a minute."
"Take your time." Her voice was much closer, since she'd opened the door—thank God I hadn't locked it. I heard the rustle of fabric. "I left you some clothes out here and some clean towels. There are new toothbrushes under the sink. Help yourself to anything you'd like, okay?"
The sound of the door closing was lost in the loud rush of the shower, muted by warm steam. Peaking my head out of the shower curtain, I stared at the pile of cream and blush clothes folded neatly on the floor where my jeans and t-shirt had been. I started to cry.
The shelter for homeless in Forks was nice for the size of the town. It didn't have many resources, but I'd been able to take a shower, have a meal, and even sleep in a bed. When others arrived, my bed was given to someone new. I couldn't complain—I'd taken the bed from someone else in the first place. After that, I'd spent several nights sleeping behind a dumpster at Fork's High School, scrounging together enough change to maybe buy myself a coffee at the local diner.
Four days showerless and clothes a lot dirtier than I would have liked, I had finally breeched the barrier between the parking lot and the warm, everlasting fluorescent glow of the diner. It was very late on a Saturday evening, with nearly no other customer in the whole restaurant. I waited patiently by the counter, eyeing the pies and cakes beneath the diner's surface with glossy eyes. When was the last time I'd had cake? My fifth birthday party? What did it even taste like? I couldn't remember.
That was the first time I saw her: short, black hair, big hazel eyes, and a bubbly smile that was infectious. Her apron was messy and double knotted around her tiny frame. She came to the counter and greeted me as if I didn't smell like a Fork's garbage can. Her nametag read ALICE C.
"Hi," she said sweetly. "What can I get you?"
"Coffee, please."
"Cream and sugar?"
"Does that cost extra?" I weighed the change in my pocket, debating.
"Nope, but it sure helps. Yuck, I don't know how anybody can drink coffee black." Her nose scrunched up. She had freckles, and it was about the cutest thing I'd ever seen.
"It's an acquired taste," I agreed. "One I haven't acquired yet. Cream and sugar would be nice."
"Back in a minute."
While I waited, I emptied my change onto the counter and organized it into dollar-sized piles. When Alice came back with the coffee in a steaming, porcelain mug, she eyed the change carefully.
"I forgot the cream and sugar—I'm sorry—just one second," she said and disappeared again for a long minute. I wrapped my hands around the cup while I waited, letting it scald my skin and warm my bones. God that felt good.
When Alice came back, she had the sugar and cream tucked into the pocket of her apron, and a plate of French fries in her hand. She came around to sit next to me at the counter, putting the fries between us.
"It's time for my break. Do you mind sharing with me? I never finish the whole plate and I hate to let anything go to waste."
We made careful chitchat which consisted mostly of her talking and me listening. I didn't have a lot to say—I didn't go to school, I had no job, and I lived nowhere. I learned that Alice was a senior at Fork's High School. She lived in an apartment with her brother within walking distance of the diner.
"Are you new in town?" She asked, spearing a cluster of fries with a fork and popping them into her mouth. I ate with my fingers and licked the salty digits clean.
"Yeah. I used to live in Phoenix, Arizona. I caught the first bus here after I knew I had graduated. I didn't even wait for the ceremony."
"Wow, all that rush just to come to Forks," she laughed. "Where are you staying at now?"
"The homeless shelter sometimes. Sometimes, nowhere." Her eyes widened like I had spat at her, the pretty smile fading from her face.
"You're homeless?"
"Yeah."
"As in, you have nowhere to live?"
"Yes. That is what homeless means."
There was a long minute of silence while we finished off the plate of fries. I had emptied my coffee and she went to bring me another
"Are refills free?" I asked when she returned. I motioned to my coins. "I don't have a lot."
"Refills are free."
The bell above the door behind me jingled and Alice scurried away to help another customer. I drank the second cup of coffee fast. Silence had gotten a little awkward after my admission, and I didn't plan to hang around much longer. I went to the restroom, and when I came back, the ticket for my meal was resting next to the empty plate of fries, along with all my change.
Alice was nowhere to be seen.
Bella, your coffee is on me. Thanks for helping me finish my fries. If you need a place to stay, my apartment is always open to you.
Beneath it was her address and cell phone number.
I folded it carefully, left my change on the counter, and split. I had no intentions to take Alice up on her offer. I had nothing to pay her back with and couldn't even offer her decent conversation. Besides, I was troubled.
I spent the next handful of days freezing behind the dumpster, checking the shelter every so often to see if they had any free beds, and wondering about what life would be like in Alice's apartment. Once the seed had been planted, it was impossible to cull out. What did it look like on the inside? What color were the walls? Did she have a furnace that kept her warm? I wished I had a furnace to keep me warm.
Part of me made the decision to go to her unconsciously. I spent one of the worst nights of my life (truly a feat, if you only knew me) curled up in Fork's freezing rain. My shoes were thin, my socks were soaked. Another night like that might have killed me. Worse, it might have broken me.
So the rising sun found me sitting on the bench outside of Alice Cullen's apartment. The first few times she came out—to go to school, to go to work—I ducked away from the bench and hid from her sight behind the bushes, scared. I slept there that night, all the time trying to work up the courage to cross the street and knock. But Alice had taken care of that for me.
Now I had a night with a shower and proper soaps. I had my first pair of clean clothes in weeks. I had company.
#
The pajamas Alice left for me were obviously hers and made for a more petite girl. Where her body was slim and short, mine was long and bulged. The shorts were almost indecent, and the shirt was tight across my breasts. I had no bra or panties. I needed a fucking job. Tucked under the sink was a scale, glass, with a digital window to display weight. I stepped on it out of curiosity and stared at the number (141) unsure how to feel. Hair dripping and smelling fragrantly pleasant for the first time in ages, I went out into the living room to find Alice at the door talking to someone, her tiny arms filled with boxes. I stood awkwardly, unsure whether I was intruding on something important.
She closed the door and seemed startled to find me behind her. Her eyes trailed over my legs.
"I don't have underwear," I blurted out, reddening.
"I know," she said, closing the door with her barefoot. "Those clothes are yours now, until we get you something that fits better. I've got your clothes in the wash now, so you'll have them back soon enough. I'm sorry I didn't have any bras or panties that I thought would fit you. Also—Chinese?"
"Huh?"
"Chinese food? I ordered some. I didn't really feel like going out, and I'm getting pretty burnt out on diner-food, as you can probably imagine." She laid out the boxes all over the coffee table: noodles and rice in sauces that emitting mouthwatering smells. My stomach felt ravenous.
"I like Chinese, but I don't have any money."
"No money necessary. My treat."
We sat on her loveseat, so close that our thighs were touching, and watched episodes of 16 and Pregnant. The mothers and babies and drama was a sensational blur. I was too busy measuring my spoonfuls to Alice's and wondering why she was being so generous. People always had motives—did it just make her feel good to help me and feed me like my mother should have? Or was she expecting something in return?
The food and warmth of the apartment were like a lullaby. Alice was quiet next to me, sometimes giving a derisive snort at the drama on the television, shaking her head in disbelief or disgust. I was almost asleep, spoon slipping from my hand, when she finally spoke.
"I'm terrible!" She said in my ear, making me jump and spill my rice across my lap.
"What?" I gaped.
"You're practically asleep sitting up. I haven't even shown you to your bedroom. I'm a terrible person—come on Bella, I'll take care of the dishes. Do you need a napkin?"
I blinked, eyes heavy and reluctant to stay open. Alice had a way of combining all of her thoughts into one long smear of words.
"Napkin—yeah—"
Once I'd cleaned up my mess, feeling like a right dork for spilling my food all over myself, she led me to the only room in the apartment that had the door closed. Alice's bedroom door was adorned with a poster of a tarot card showing a girl who looked remarkably like Alice herself, eyes closed, meditating in a forest. The room with the door closed had no decoration.
"This is my brother's bedroom. Technically, he lives here, but he hasn't been around since July."
"It's October." Her smile wavered, but came back twice as strong.
"I know—but that's just Edward. Ever since our parents died, he comes and he goes. Mostly, he goes. If he shows up and needs a place to sleep, you'll have to take the couch—Edward is pretty anal about nobody touching his stuff or being in his space."
"I don't feel right taking your brother's room. I can sleep on the couch."
"Really, Bella. When Edward is gone, the room goes empty. He usually calls and gives me some warning before he comes home. If he shows up, we can pretend you always sleep on the couch. Will that make you feel better?"
I frowned. "I guess so."
The door opened. Inside was a plain but comfortable room with dark carpeting and eggshell walls. There was a small desk, empty, and shelves across the room, filled with books. The bed was larger than the one I'd slept on in Phoenix, and just the sight of it made my body ache to lie on it. The comforter was a flinty, fluffy gray.
"Everything's clean. I like Edward to have nice sheets whenever he comes home. Anyway, I'll let you sleep. When you wake up tomorrow, I'll probably be at school. While you're staying here, mi apartment es su apartment—or something like that. You can do whatever you like: eat what you want, watch what you want on TV. Okay?"
I mumbled something that I hoped she could make out, already slipping underneath the blanket. My eyes were already slipping closed while she spoke, her voice becoming just another note in the lullaby. There was the click of the door closing, and then darkness.
Is anyone interested?