AN: Another chapter to give you a better idea of where the story may be heading. It's still un-beta'd, but will be soon.

Thanks for the reviews and alerts/favs. I haven't responded to reviews because I've been working all day, but I read them and love 'em.

All things Twilight belong to SM.

I was lucky to nab a free cot at the shelter. It was now snowing, in mid-November, and that guaranteed a full house tonight.

Not only was the shelter full, but it was also occupied by a lot of unfamiliar faces. While this wasn't exactly unheard of, tonight it made me a little weary. It wasn't usual that I carried a hundred dollars with me – haven given Marcus the fifty-three. I was getting paranoid, like I was being watched. Luckily, I had no extra baggage with me that I would have to keep guard overnight.

Although sleep finally found me around nine, the paranoia I felt never ceased. I woke up every hour, looking for anything unusual. It ended up being one of the worst night's sleeps, even though I was more than warm. With the heat the shelter provided, plus all the extra body heat from the crowd, I was actually sweating.

I woke up at seven, the designated time. There was a hustle and bustle around me; the people readying to venture out for another day of survival on the streets. I was still groggy from my lack of sleep. I wasn't ready to move on just yet, but I had no other choice. My feeling of paranoia seemed to have vanished with the moon. I no longer felt eyes on me which caused me to drop my guard slightly.

I was finally out of the shelter's door at seven fifteen. My stomach was growling and my head was pounding – I needed food. However, the soup kitchen only served dinner and that wasn't until five this evening.

I remembered the money I had stuffed in my underwear, but quickly dispelled that thought. I had given Marcus about a third of my money yesterday and the rest could not be touched.

I suddenly remembered a bakery that was located around the corner from here that opens at five in the morning. Everything they sold was made on location. I knew this because on nights that I had to sleep on the street, if I was close enough, I could smell the baking bread and muffins. I decided to take a chance to see if maybe they had thrown any scrapes away yet.

I took the short walk to the bakery and made the quick turn to the side of the building to access the dumpster the bakery shared with the florist next door. I could smell the lingering odor of baking sweets, cupcakes perhaps. The green dumpster's lid was open and I felt slightly hopeful. As I got closer, something jumped out from behind the dumpster. I swallowed a scream, not wanting to alert anyone of my presence. A gray and orange cat, standing in front of the dumpster looked at me with wide eyes. In his mouth he held what looked like a muffin top. I contemplated stealing it from the beautiful feline until I heard another rustling coming from the side of the dumpster closest to the cat. The cat let out a deep throated menacing growl when I stepped closer. I froze momentarily, but then continued. When the cat saw that I had no intention of being scared away, it scampered to the side of the dumpster.

When I peered in the direction the cat had ran off to, what I saw made my heart melt. Along with the familiar cat were three little kittens wrestling with each other. They were absolutely adorable and I wanted to hold one so badly, However, I knew better. The gray and orange cat, the mother cat I assumed, stood guard in front of them, muffin top still in its mouth, not letting me get too close to her babies. I respected her love and devotion and backed away. The cat needed the muffin more than I did if she was going to keep her kittens alive.

I walked out from the side of the building, still hungry and still clueless. The bright sun was shining, blinding me. Stupidly, I kept my head down, not wanting the sun beaming on my face. I saw feet heading in my direction and made sure to give myself enough distance so I wouldn't have another accident like yesterday. However, as I moved to the left, so did the other pair of feet. I looked up to see who was the owner of the shoes. He looked familiar, but I wasn't sure where I saw him from. He was very poorly dressed so I gathered I had to have seen him in either soup kitchen or homeless shelter.

As I went to pass him, he grabbed my wrist and forced me back to the side of a different storefront. He roughly pushed me against the wall, making me hit my head in the process. I wanted to scream out in pain, or for help, but knew that would be a mistake on my part. If I stayed quiet and submissive, he would make it quick and it would be less painful.

He quickly threw one hand down my pants while the other held me by my neck, making breathing hard. I waited for what he would do next. However, he didn't make a move to remove any clothing. I felt his hand frantically move around the crotch of my jeans. I knew what he wanted now. Once the thought entered my mind, his hand exited my pants, the hundred dollars in hand. For what was probably supposed to be good measure, he slapped me hard across the face and kicked me when I fell to the ground.

I wasn't paranoid when I thought someone was watching me. He had to have been because how else would he have known where I kept my money? Granted, I didn't help the situation by openly grabbing the money out of my hiding spot to give to Marcus.

I felt the warmth of the blood as it slid down my nose and the warmth in my pants. I made no move to wipe it away or get up. I was suddenly tired and wanted to stay where I was. Fortunately, the snow from last night stuck, providing a softer ground for me to rest. Sleep was a lot easier to find this time around.

I don't know how long I slept for, but when I woke up the sun was much lower in the sky. I sat up against the building. I felt rested and disoriented at the same time. My head hurt and it seemed that the growling in my stomach from this morning never let up.

When I finally managed to pull myself from off the ground, a sudden draft blew my way, sending a violent shiver down my back. I was freezing when just seconds ago I felt fine. My lower front felt especially cold. I looked down to see the large wet spot on my pants. I didn't remember wetting myself, but apparently I had.

I groaned when I realized that I just received these jeans. I had no way of washing them and I would most likely have to wear them stained and smelly until next month. It was a rarity that I got to wash my clothes.

My rumbling stomach reminded me, again, that I had yet to eat. Though I didn't know what time it was, I figured it had to be at least past six o'clock, meaning the soup kitchen was probably out of food by now. I wasn't going to bother wasting the little energy I had finding out.

Begging for spare change was going to have to be the course of the night. I hated begging, as it put me on display. People would look at me disgustedly; making rude comments under the breath thinking that I couldn't hear.

Tightening my coat, bracing myself for the cold once again, I stepped out onto the sidewalk. I looked to the left and right, hoping to see anyone heading my way. I saw a group of emerging from the bus that stopped at the corner. Hopefully, I would be able to at least collect a dollar amongst all of them. If I had my guitar, I could have been one of those people who sat on a building stoop, strumming some chords while a paper cup sat out in the open to hold the few coins people would toss my way.

I shook my head to rid myself of the shoulda, coulda, woulda's and prepared myself to beg. The first group of people came nearer and I groaned inwardly. I hated asking young girls for money – they were the worst. But I was desperate.

"Can you spare any change?" I asked, looking down at my feet and not able to meet their eyes.

"Seriously?" one of them scoffed. "If it's to buy a bar of soap then I'll think about it." Her two friends laughed with her. "Oh, and you smell like piss." They continued walking and laughing at my expense.

I tried not to let words hurt me, but it was an impossible goal. The only thing I could do was to push it to the back of my mind and move forward.

"Can you spare any change?" I asked a lone female walking with ear buds in her ears. She kept on walking, not even acknowledging me. I wanted to think that it was because she couldn't hear me, but I saw her stiffen when I asked.

I asked the next few people I saw, getting the same response from them all – I was ignored.

I stuffed my cold hands in my pockets, ready to walk away. I had only been soliciting for about twenty minutes but I already felt defeated. I was going to have to come to grips with the fact that I would not be eating today.

It was too early to head to the shelter; they didn't let people in this early. I would have to spend a few hours behind the billboard. With my pink hoodie covering my head and my hands tucked tightly in my pockets, I turned to leave. The wind began to pick up and I brought my head down to prevent my nose and cheeks from becoming ice cold.

Half way down the block I began feeling dizzy again and I could feel my headache getting more intense. I closed my eyes briefly, hoping to relieve some of the tension I was feeling in my head. In those few seconds that I walked with my eyes closed I collided with another pedestrian. I heard an "oof" from the person as I landed on my ass. I wasn't quick to get up as the fall knocked a lot out of me.

"I'm so sorry," a male voice said above, extending a hand to help me up. I reached for the hand, excepting the help as I couldn't get up so easily.

"No worries. It's my fault; I should have been looking," I responded as a brushed the snow off my coat and backside.

"It's you," the voice said, hotly. It wasn't until I heard that did I look up. To my utter horror, he was the stranger from the church yesterday. It would be my luck that I would bump into him again.

"Sorry," I mumbled. I couldn't look at him again without wanting to cry. He represented everything that has gone wrong in the last forty-eight hours. But really, it was my fault for not looking where I was going…both times.

"What is that smell?" he asked, scrunching his nose up in disgust. He sniffed the air around him. "Is that you? You smell like piss, or something." The second time I heard it within an hour and it didn't hurt any less.

"Yeah, I know…I…" What was I supposed to say? That I wet myself when I thought I was about to be raped?

"And is that… dried blood on your face?" he asked, swiping at his own nose.

"Oh…yeah." I wiped the crusted blood from under my nose and where I felt it curving my lip. I had actually forgotten about it until he mentioned it. "Thanks," I whispered. I wasn't even embarrassed my appearance; it wasn't like I could do anything about it.

"What the hell happened to you, anyway? Your cheek is kind of puffy," he commented.

Christ! Was there something else he was going to point out?

It didn't even feel swollen, but that was probably due to sleeping on snow.

"Look, I'm sorry, again. I'm gonna go. I'll see you next month," I said, wanting to get the hell out of there.

"Sure I will," I heard him sarcastically respond when my back was turned.

I couldn't bear to be out in the street any longer. It seemed like my luck went from bad to worse the longer I stayed.

I had no intentions, and I really didn't want to, but I changed directions and headed towards the motel. I needed to take a shower and hopefully find some way to wash these jeans. I wouldn't dread it so much if I had money, but I didn't. That meant that I had to "see" James. I wasn't in the mood for sex, not that I ever was, but tonight especially.

Half hour later, I was standing in line behind some overweight trick and her john as they were handed their room key.

When it was finally my turn, James smiled at me as I approached the glass.

"Can I help you?" he asked, wearing a knowing grin.

"I need a room…and I don't have any money," I whispered the last part.

"Well isn't it my lucky night," he said, rubbing his hands together.

James wasn't an ugly man, by any means. He had luscious blond hair that had been kept tied back when it was longer. He began sporting a short cut the past couple of months, which in my opinion looked better that way. His eyes were a clear blue that sparkled when the light hit them just right. He was built, but not overly so. What made him ugly, though, was his slimy personality. He was an opportunistic to the fullest.

"Can I just get a shower first?" I asked. "There was an accident on the street today and I reek." It wasn't for James' benefit, but for my own. I knew that once I removed my pants and underwear, the urine smell would become stronger.

He looked at me skeptically, trying to decide if I was trying to deceive him.

"Oh, c'mon. You're the one giving me the key; you'll know what room I'm in. It's not like I can hide from you. Besides, when have I ever not held up on my end?"

"Yeah, you're right," he shrugged. He grabbed a dangling key from a hook and slid it under the glass. "Be back in twenty."

"Yup." I grabbed the key and headed to room twelve. Upon entering the room, I stripped myself of my coat and shoes. Just as quickly, I hopped in the shower. It wasn't that I was in a rush to get back to James, but rather rid myself of my shameful odor.

Not ten minutes later, I was out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel. I sat on the bed and dialed the front desk on the phone.

"Yeah," James answered.

"It's me," I replied. "Do you want to come to my room or do you want me to go down there?"

"Why are you even asking? You know I want you down here. I'll see you in a few." With that he hung up the phone.

I rolled my eyes at no one, but stood to leave the room. Once upon a time, I would have never dared to leave a sleazy motel wrapped only in a towel, but those days were over. I doubted I would run into anyone in the hallway and even if I did, whoever did see me was in no place to judge.

Two minutes later I was entering James' office with him following behind. He left his door opened, which didn't surprise me. You could see right into the lobby from his office, and I knew he hoped someone would come to the front desk as I was bent over.

"You didn't have to dress up for little old me," he said, batting his eyes. I rolled my eyes again but didn't respond.

He stepped closer to me, tugging on the towel, allowing it to fall to the ground.

"You're on the skinny side, but fuck are you sexy," he said, licking his lips.

"Thanks," I replied dryly. "I don't mean to sound ungrateful or anything, but can we please get this over with? It's cold, I'm tired, and I just want to get to bed."

"I'm hurt," he responded in mock offensive. "You make it sound like I don't bring you pleasure."

I shrugged in response. I wasn't in the mood for games tonight. I really just did want to get to bed.

He stepped closer to me and wrapped one arm around my naked waist to bring me closer. I was shocked that he just didn't bend me over his desk chair like he usually did. Instead, he bent low and took my nipple into his mouth. I gasped in surprised; he never did this before. He swiped his tongue against my hardened nipple and bit down softly. He brought his other hand down and began tracing my lips there, finally coming to a stop at my clit. He began rubbing with just the right amount of pressure to make my body respond. I let out an involuntary moan. It wasn't that I liked James, but no one has done anything that brought me pleasure since before I lived on the streets.

He freed one nipple just to capture the other. I was wet, soaked actually, and I hated myself for it.

One finger and then two entered me, pumping me slowly but then increasing in pace. I was fighting a moan that wanted to be freed. I wasn't supposed to enjoy this, but my body felt differently.

Eventually, he did turn me around and bend me over his chair, but it wasn't as rough as it usually was. Slowly, he ran one finger down my spine, leaving goose bumps in its wake, until he found my pussy. This time, however, he only rubbed my clit, not bothering entering me again.

He held his cock in his other hand as he used it to trace my lips once again. He dipped it in only far enough to get it wet, but not enter me, mercilessly teasing me. I wouldn't admit it to him, but I was wanting.

When I finally couldn't take anymore and began to squirm in annoyance, he finally shoved his dick in. I wasn't in the mood for the slow pace at which he started, but it still felt good. I began pushing back into him, hoping he would get the message and go faster. Luckily, he did. He held onto my waist tightly and began thrusting faster. I let another moan slip and I mentally kicked myself. I didn't want him to know that I was enjoying myself.

Once upon a time, when I wasn't a nameless no body, I had explored sexually. I used the excuse that it was part of the college experience. The truth was that I just enjoyed casual sex. I knew what I liked and I was too caught up in my own dream to reach the top that I didn't have time for commitment.

When I had sex, I liked it rough and fast. I was never the slow and steady type. However, if I knew where life was going to lead me I would have treasured every affectionate embrace. Now, whenever I had sex it was never about me. It was about them. Sometimes the sex was rough, but it was an I-need-to-hurry-the-hell-up-and-get-home-to-me-wife kind of rough.

I felt James' body slightly stiffen and I surmised that he was near his end. I was nowhere near close to finishing, but I never intended to anyway. James quickly pulled out and spilt his seed all over my ass. It was degrading and I wanted to cry.

"Fuck, that was good. See, I told you I could bring you pleasure." He sounded so arrogant and it made me want to cry even harder. "I'm surprised your pussy is that tight after the shit you've done," he chuckled.

That was it! I couldn't stand being in the room with him any longer. I've never felt more like a whore than I did at this very moment. I bent to grab the towel and rewrapped it around myself. I left his office without another word. Luckily, no one was in the lobby or hallways. I refused to cry over a scumbag like James.

Once I stepped inside my room, I jumped back into the shower, letting the water get as hot as it would go. I scrubbed my back as best as I could, ridding myself of that asshole.

Stepping out of the bathroom, I spotted my panties and jeans. I grabbed them and retreated back into the bathroom. With water and a bar of soap, I washed my panties and the crotch of my jeans. I wanted to wash the whole pair of jeans but I knew they wouldn't dry by morning. I flung the underwear and jeans over the shower rod and left the room once again.

Looking at the clock I saw that it was just before eight. It was going to be another early night and I was okay with that. I needed this day to end already.

It was a fitful night's sleep – typical. An all too familiar two story house haunted my dreams again. Happy memories from my childhood turned into sad memories, as my final night at home before I left for college played in my mind. It would have been fine if my dreams stopped there, but they ever did.

Bittersweet memories turned into torturous ones as I saw myself sitting graveside, my best friend holding my hand, as the white casket was lowered into the ground. Last, but by no means least, my nightmare faded out as I lay wrapped up in an old, family quilt, rocking back and forth, crying.

I woke with a start. Leaning over the side of the bed as I emptied what was in my stomach, which was very little since I hadn't eaten anything the day before. It wasn't unusual that I was jolted awake. It was like my mind was protecting me from dreaming any further then I already did; I never got any further in my dream than lying in the bed.

What was unusual, though, was throwing up. I attributed it to the bump I received yesterday. I probably had a concussion and didn't even realize it. Then again, it could have been anything. I'm sure my body was a germ and infection breeding ground. The reality of the matter is that I'm actually surprised I was still breathing. I had ingested and eaten so many things that would probably have killed a lesser person.

After I was sure that nothing else was going to come up, I threw my legs over the other side of the bed. Someone else could worry about cleaning my puke up. I went into the bathroom, pissed, and rinsed my mouth out with water. I grabbed my jeans and underwear, finding them only slightly damp, but odor free.

I glanced at the wall clock before heading out; it read ten a.m. I couldn't believe that I had slept about fourteen hours. I guess it did make sense, though. My body probably made up for all the time I spent tossing and turning through the night.

I braced myself for the cold. I had no plan for the day, though I never really did. It would be nice to have a purpose to wake up every morning - even if it was to go to a job that I hated.

I walked the streets aimlessly, trying to forget the pain in my stomach and my lightheadedness. Somehow, I managed to find myself in the decent part of town. It was wedged in between my part of town, the avoid-at-all-cost part, and the area where St. Mark's was located.

When I finally felt like I couldn't go any longer, I walked over to a bagel shop and slid down the side of it. I needed to rest and I just so happened to stop here. I contemplated asking for money again, but couldn't find the energy to do even that.

The door to the bagel shop opened and closed, ringing a little bell above the door. A delicious smell wafted out and blew across my nose. My stomach was no longer growling, but full on screaming at me. I resolved myself to ask the first person I saw and if I was rejected I would head back to Elliott, a street that was good for picking up dates, even this early in the day. I needed to get money one way or the other.

I saw a pair of sneaker clad feet heading my way. Hopefully, this person would spare at least fifty cents my way.

"Excuse me, can you spare anything?" I asked, looking up at the same time. And as my luck would have it, it was the stranger that I had run into the past three days. A look of displeasure rested on his face.

"Are you following me?" he asked, seriously, annoyed.

"No," I answered, defeated. I was hoping, oh so hard, that I could get something so I wouldn't have to go to Elliott.

"So why is it that I've never seen you a day in my life and now for the past three days you've been showing up everywhere?"

"I dunno." I struggled to get up from my spot on the cold cement. My dizziness was not subsiding, making my movements slow and unsteady. After finally succeeding, I offered him a small wave. "See ya," I said lowly. I wanted to hate this man, but it wasn't his fault. I wouldn't want to be around me, either.

"Wait," he groaned. I turned slowly to see what he could possibly want from me. Hopefully, it wouldn't be a tongue lashing, because my spirits just couldn't take it today. "How much do you need?" he asked impatiently.

I shrugged. "Fifty cents?" I wasn't getting my hopes up that he would spare me anything, even if I wasn't asking for much.

"Fifty cents?" he asked, condescendingly. "What could you possibly do with fifty cents?"

"A lot," I answered, nodding my head. "That's enough for a bag of chips, or one of those single wrapped coffee cakes, or cookies, or one of those small bottles of water. Basically, it's enough to hold me until five." I didn't know why I was explaining this to him. He didn't look like he was going to give up even a dime.

"What happens at five?" he asked.

"The soup kitchen serves dinner." The thought sent my stomach into a whirlwind.

He stared at me as if he was trying to figure out if I was telling the truth. "You're not lying to me, are you?" he asked. I was right. "You're not getting me to help support some kind of habit?"

I shake my head slowly. "No. Eating isn't a habit I can afford to pick up," I answered. For just the briefest moment, he looked ashamed, but it was fleeting. He continued to stare at me, unmoving. Because I was getting cold just standing there, I decided to keep on moving since he wasn't giving anything away.

"Take care," I said, while turning my back. I thought about finding a library that I could spend a few hours in. The only one I knew of was a few miles away and I was too tired to make the journey.

"Come with me," he said roughly, grabbing my forearm from behind me. I hadn't even heard him get close. "You don't smell so bad today," commented as he turned me around again and headed toward the bagel shop.

I had never been in here before as it was not something I was likely to spend the little money I had on. It was a cute little place that took on a cafe-type layout. There were about six round tables scattered throughout the shop.

"What kind of bagel do you want?" he asked while finding an unoccupied table. He question caught me off guard. Even though I clearly knew where we were entering in, I didn't think he was going to by me a whole bagel. I wanted to reject his offer in protest of the way he treated me every time we encountered each other, but I learned a long time ago to never let my pride get in the way.

"Well?" he repeated, even more impatiently than he had before. I hadn't eaten a bagel in so long that I forgot how I used to eat them. I just blurted the first thing that came to mind.

"Everything bagel with cream cheese, please," I said. "Thank you," I added as an afterthought.

He walked away quickly, probably wanting to get the hell away from me already. While waiting for my bagel, I began pondering why I chose an everything bagel. I didn't eat those in my former life. It wasn't until I saw an older lady sipping coffee a few tables down, did I finally realize. My mother used to eat everything bagel with cream cheese. I always preferred egg bagels.

I sat, thinking about my mother all those years ago. I would never let her kiss me after she ate one of those bagels because I always thought her breath stunk afterward. It always became a game – her trying to give me kisses while I ran around the house, giggling, trying to get away from her stinky breath.

I didn't realize I was chuckling until the stranger came back. "Are you crazy? Are there meds you should be taking?" he asked cautiously. "It's not normal to laugh while you're sitting alone."

I quieted immediately, embarrassed by my actions. "No, I'm not crazy. Sorry about that." I didn't know why I was apologizing when, really, I hadn't done anything wrong. "Thank you," I said again as he handed me a brown paper bag. He held his own in his hand.

"Do you want me to go to another table, leave?" I doubt he wanted to sit with me. He had been rude and insensitive every time we've met, but I didn't want to put him in the position to ask me to leave. If I beat him to the punch, he wouldn't have the opportunity to insult me for, what seemed like, his own pleasure.

"No, it's fine. You can say if you want," he replied, no bothering to look at me as he removed his own, egg bagel, from a bag.

"Ok, thanks," I whispered. Before opening my bag, I looked around the small shop, trying to spot anything suspicious. Even though I doubted anyone in this shop would be watching me, I still had to make sure.

"What are you looking at?" he asked, annoyed. I shrugged in response and continued with my bagel. It wasn't as if I could tell him that I was just making sure that, before I started eating, there was no one waiting to jump me or steal my food. He would certainly think I was crazy then, but if happens often enough to make me cautious.

I took the first bite of my bagel, chewing rapidly, and hunching over it when I placed it down. My eyes never rested as I kept constant watch over my surroundings.

"You need to calm down. I can assure you that no one here wants your bagel." I narrowed my eyes at him, but turned them down quickly to my food.

The silence was awkward and tension filled the air until broke the silence by clearing his throat. I looked up to see if he was trying o get my attention or just choking.

"You know, this is the first time I've brought someone food without knowing their name first."

"Bella. What's yours?" I asked, figuring it was appropriate to ask for his name. After all, he did buy me breakfast and I did owe him about three hundred dollars. After a few seconds he still hadn't answered. "Never mind." I guess I shouldn't have been surprised that he didn't want to give me his name. However, I also couldn't' deny that it hurt my feelings.

"My name is Edward, if you must know," he finally answered, sounding bored.

"Strong name," I commented. "Thanks for breakfast, Edward. It's great."

It really was; better than great, actually. It was a hot and doughy. The cream cheese oozed from all sides. I hadn't had a good bagel since before I was homeless; it was something I couldn't afford. I even had to suppress a moan when I took my first bite. When one half was quickly eaten, I wrapped the other half up in napkins.

He nodded his head slowly. "Aren't you going to finish it?" he asked, looking at my half eaten bagel. "I thought you were starving?" he asked, dramatically pronouncing the last word

I looked at the bagel myself when I saw that he was looking at it. Explaining to anyone else would probably be embarrassing, but he already knew my situation. "I'm saving it."

"For what?" he asked, looking at me like I was the dumbest thing on the planet. "I thought you said you were eating at the soup kitchen tonight?"

I sighed deeply before answering, not really wanting to explain this part of it. "If everything goes fine between now and tonight, then yes, I'll eat there. But after today, I don't know. But now I have half a bagel, just in case."

"When was the last time you ate…before right now?" His bold question shocked me. I had no problem answering it – it wasn't like I had something to hide – but most people could care less about trivial things like that.

"Today's Tuesday," I said to myself. "Sunday," I answered him.

It was his turn to be shocked. "What about yesterday? You didn't eat anything at all yesterday?"

"No, never got the chance," I replied, shrugging. It wasn't a big deal to me. Going a day or two without eating was tolerable, but became a problem when I hit that third day.

There was another awkward silence; too many for just one sit down. Figuring it was probably time I start heading out, he decided to speak again.

"What happened to your face? It looks better today, but it looked pretty bad yesterday?"

He really had no shame!

I huffed when I realized that this was actually something that concerned him. I didn't want to tell him, my pride getting the better of me, but figured that it was something I should be truthful about it.

"Actually, I have to tell you about that." I took a deep breath. "I was mugged yesterday."

I stopped talking when I heard him snort. It was my turn to look at him like he was crazy. "I'm sorry," he apologized, putting his hands up. "But what the hell do I have to do with you getting mugged. And really, what could you possibly have that's worth taking?"

The more he talked, the shittier I felt about myself. He was constantly throwing things back in my face. I knew I was worthless, but basically hearing someone else say it to my face was brutal. I cleared my throat to help with the knot that was forming.

"I had some money that I was going to give you. Someone saw that I had it, I guess, and mugged me – took it all." I waited for a reaction – any reaction. He continued to look at me, pursing his lips, thinking. I wasn't going to say anything more until he did.

While continuing to wait for him to admonish or berate me, a passing woman dropped a pen. I snatched it up with no hesitation. I never kept a pen or pencil with me as it was never necessary. I grabbed a spare napkin that was on the table. I began drawing random lines on the white sheet, not really having anything particular in mind.

The longer I drew, the more the sketch became clearer. It wasn't until I heard a throat clearing that I realized what I had drawn. An almost perfect portrayal of Edward was staring back up at me.

"Sorry," I replied and crumpled up the napkin. Very rarely was I embarrassed, but it seemed like that's all I felt around Edward.

"How'd you get this money that was stolen from you?" he asked. I was grateful that he didn't comment on the drawing and let it go.

"I stole it," I answered simply as there was no point in lying about it.

He sighed deeply and remained quiet for a few seconds. Finally he spoke.

"I have a proposition for you."