Disclaimer: Things we own; K-420 Oreo cookies (Yes I counted cause I'm cool like that) A purple pen that I only use in my Tinkerbell notebook that are Jalice Ideas only, Alice's backstory because it's parts of mine, The name Sherry cause its my momma's name :P ; Robs- Cherry Softlips chapstick, 4 different pairs of oversized sunglsses, part of Jasper's backstory and most of my friends at spider solitare.

Things we don't: Twilight, or the characters.

A/N: K: Okay so here it is!! But here's the switch... I AIN'T JASPER! O.O Hope you like Alice enough to listen to her side of the story. Um don't hate on her way of thinking. She only knows what she's learned. And I will go Momma bear over Alice.... Just sayin'

Robs: OOO so the first chapter, I dunno if you could tell, but the prologue is from the future. ;) We gotta get our girl and guy there. So we'll start with Alice, who is awesome. Loves to our peeps.

And Thanks as always to our super fantabulous beta Emmy1512; We love you hard girl.

Life on the streets

"Being born is like being kidnapped. And then sold into slavery"

Andy Warhol August 6, 1928 – February 22, 1987

APOV:

"Hey Mary, have you eaten anything yet?" A voiced called me out of the self induced haze. I looked up to see Jenny looking at me, offering me half a banana. I gave her a half smile.

"No thanks Jen, you can have it." She nodded, her red hair a frizzy mess. No doubt from the precipitation left from the rain the night before. Yeah, that was fun to sleep in, not!

"You know Mary, it's gonna be sunny today. Maybe you should head to the park. I bet you could find something else to draw besides your mystery man," she said, as she nodded into the direction of my sketch pad.

I looked down, growling softly at the sketch. I had been drawing him since my sixteenth birthday and its been driving me insane. The first drawing I had made, he was with a woman doing really nasty things that I think might be illegal in the US. But it wasn't the detail that I made of the act of the two lovers, but the detail in his eyes that made me keep it.

Even though he was so clearly in the moment of passion, his eyes were unmistakably sad, thus creating my minor infatuation with him. I wanted to know why he was so sad.

I shoved my sketch book into my bag and pulled myself up from the ground.

"You're right Jen, I'm gonna head to the park. I'm running low on some things so maybe I can find a John too." I shrugged noncommittally. The joy's of being a runaway, you resort to thievery or prostitution.

Well, for me, thief is not my forte, no thanks to the shit I went through at the hands of my stepfather and stepbrother. I tend to be jumpy in stressful situations.

So I do what one has to do to survive on the streets, I suck dick for a living. It's not much, but hey, I can make any where from twenty to a hundred bucks, depending on what I do, how I do it, and what I let them do while I do it. I refuse to let them fuck me though.

I wasn't always like this. In fact, I think I was a happy child at one point. My mom used to joke and call me her little 'Miss America', because I was born on the day of our nation's independence. Yeah, trust me, I see the irony in that.

Sure, I had a mom and dad. Well at least until I was five. See here's the fucked up thing, I'm responsible for my dad being dead. I started drawing since the moment I could hold a pencil and one day, I drew a picture of my dad in a coffin. Yeah, I was only four at the time, my parents were scared shitless. They took me to a doctor that said I was experiencing something similar to 'ghost writing'. My mom was convinced I was possessed, but my dad, my loving, kind and caring father said I was special, intuitive. I believed him.

That was until that night he got laid off from his job. California was having major economy issues and daddy was the first to be let go at work. That night he kissed my mother and I goodnight, and left to the garage. I had hoped he didn't want to work on the soap box car we were making for the big derby in San Francisco by himself, so I followed him. Looking back now, I wished I hadn't.

I got there long enough to see my father pull the trigger of the gun he had bought for my mom as protection while he was on business. Some fucking protection that turned out to be. Instead it made things worse.

My ghost drawings were a forbidden thing to my mother. Something that was taboo and never to be spoken about again, especially since she blamed me. I guess it was easy to see how it's my fault, when the coroner pries the drawing a four year old made of your coffin.

Not even less then a month after daddy was worm food, mom moved us up north to a town called Anderson. I hated every moment of it. This place was small, dirty and smelled like poop.

"A bit of country air never hurt anyone." Sure mom, if you say so.

I actually thought things were going to be alright for a while. My mom and I had moved on past daddy's death and started to become more of a family then we were before. That was until she met Jorge.

Sure he was charming, a good father to his son, and treated my mom like a princess. He made my mom smile and seemed nice to me most of the time, but I started to 'ghost draw' again. I began to trust the drawings more then the Hispanic man that was wooing my mother.

His son James wasn't that bad either, considering he was four years older then me. I often teased him that he was the milk man's child cause he had blond hair and striking blue eyes, when his dad had jet black hair and 'full of shit' eyes, as my best friend Sherry dubbed later.

When I was seven, I had a new father and a new brother. As well as a few scars from a broken ankle and leg. Like I said, things were grand until they came into the picture.

My mom became domicile. She was usually very out spoken and opinionated, but learned fast that she would receive a fist if she spoke out of turn. I, on the other hand, didn't get the beatings as bad. I learned to cook at eight and was caught into a sick version of Cinderella by my ninth birthday. I would cry at night while watching Alice in Wonderland, wondering when my white rabbit would rescue me.

About the time I was fourteen, I began to realize shit at home was not normal. Children are not meant to be in homes where they were slaves and you were most definitely not supposed to hurt the ones you loved in any shape or form. At this time, Jorge's drinking started to get drastic, he would start first thing in the morning, go to work drunk as a skunk and come home worse then he left.

I remember telling Sherry that I was afraid that he would do something worse then slap me. She always told me that I needed to get mom and me out of there before something bad happened. But what was I going to do? I was only fourteen. No one listens to the kid.

I talked to James about it, thinking since he was my friend and loved me like I loved him, that he could help. I told him that I believed Jorge would one night take advantage of me. It wasn't hard to believe when he always called me a 'whore', 'slut' or 'tramp'. So James offered to help me.

He had convinced me that I should give the one thing that is most valuable to a woman, to the one I loved, meaning him. I hadn't even kissed a boy yet! But he was right; I loved him at the time.

Looking back now, his logic was just as fuck as he and his father were in the head. At first James was loving to me, he made me think he cared. When I told Sherry what we had shared, she of course freaked out. Not because he was my brother by law, but because he took advantage of me. I didn't understand her and refused to talk to her for accusing him of being like Jorge.

Of course I should have known she was right. Shortly, after I was fifteen, what beatings Jorge wouldn't give me, James sure as fuck made sure I got them. The fucked up thing about it, he would always kiss me before hand. They were always so tender and caring, but then five minutes later he'd shove me against a wall and punch me in the stomach.

I started hiding in the bathroom to cry in the shower, this was the only place that I could hide. I remember shaving my legs one night and seeing red streak down my leg. I remember the pain and despair that I was feeling at that moment begin to be released as the blood washed away down the drain. That's when I started the cutting, finding that self inflicted pain was better then the shit James dished out.

I got smart about the cutting, only doing it on my legs, little bits here and there, so I could easily pass them off as a 'shaving knick'. I knew if either of the step-monsters found out, they would surly beat the living shit out of me.

Finally, two weeks after my sixteenth birthday, was the time that broke the proverbial straw. My mom and I had come home late from a school event. She had gone to support the art club I was in. Jorge was pissed face drunk and livid that his food was take out. I remember him grabbing my mom's upper arms and slamming her so hard against the wall that the pictures frames fell around them from the wall. I honestly believed my mom had, had enough this night too, because for the first time in the nine years that they had been married she finally told him to fuck off.

That was when he slammed his forehead to hers. When he let go of her, I watched as she slid down the wall, landing on the floor in a helpless slump.

"You fucking prick! Stop beating my mom you spineless shit!" I yelled at him as I jumped on to his back, scratching at his face. He threw me off of him. Thankfully, I had landed onto the couch and not on the glass coffee table that he was, undoubtedly aiming for.

"If you don't like it, then leave you fucking whore!" He spat at me as he stumbled to his room. I scrambled onto my hands and knees to check on my mom. She was breathing thankfully but in a daze.

"Mommy!" I cried as I looked her over. She smiled sadly at me, I could see the pain in her eyes. She lifted her hand to cup my face.

"I love you Mary Alice, but I can't protect you from them. Please leave before he comes back. I couldn't live knowing he hurt you. I'm so sorry." Were her last words to me.

So I did just that, I packed my things in my messenger bag, sent a text to Sherry telling her that as soon as I got to where ever the white rabbit was taking me, that I would call her.

I made it to as far as Redding, not very fucking far if you ask me, but I made it. I spent my first night on the street and wanted to do nothing more then cry. That was until a tall blond with glasses came over with coffee and a donut.

His name was Ernie. He was a very nice man. It turned out that the alley I had slept in was to his tattoo shop. He allowed me to come inside and clean up, then started to teach me about the art that is known as tattooing.

Next thing I knew it was November, I was helping make tattoo designs and was an unofficial apprentice to Ernie. I was surprised at the kindness this man and his wife had shown me and I was thankful for it. I made sure to always help out around the house and what ever tips I got for helping with tat designs I gave to them.

I remember one night at the shop, Ernie didn't want to go home, something about Alison and he weren't on the best of terms. I just shrugged it off and hung out with him at the shop.

He started sketching a pixie like girl with long black hair. I noticed every once in a while he would look up at me and study my face before drawing again.

"Ernie what are you doing?" I asked. He smiled.

"You know you look like a pixie right, a Goth pixie but a pixie no less." I rolled my eyes at him.

"Well, I was wondering why you called me 'Tink' all the time."

"That's easy. You Mary, have the fire of Peter Pan's Tinkerbell. Lord help the woman that tries to kiss your Peter Pan." He smiled as he handed the drawing over.

"I'd add wings to her." I said as I began to add them.

"Why wings?"

"So when shit gets to bad, she can fly above it all and find where she was truly meant to be."

That night, I was branded with my own personal pixie. A reminder that one day I would rise above the shit and find where I was destined to be.

Finally, just after the first of the year, it was time to move on. I had returned to Ernie's house to find it surrounded by cops. Naturally I freaked out. I was a sixteen year old runaway after all. They'll lock your ass up for that shit. Or worse, call the step-monster.

As I got closer, I heard Ernie say to the cops, "You know I hope Tink makes it to the shop, I have her pay check waiting with Anna." When his grey eyes locked on mine, I knew what he was saying.

I calmly walked past the cops and headed around the corner. As soon as I knew it was safe, I ran to the shop, where sure enough, Anna had an envelope waiting for me. Inside were a thousand dollars cash and a note that simply said, "Fly to where your wings will take you."

So here I am, in a park in Seattle. I've in and out of shelters from the beginning of January until about three weeks ago. I couldn't handle that shit. Most of the woman's shelters wanted to pray over you and what the fuck else ever. I've never been one to believe in God, but would you with my past?

I looked down at my drawing, the man in it had his back to me as he looked over his shoulder smirking. His wavy hair in his eyes, as he seemed to be cooking. At least that's what I think he was doing since I had added cabinetry to the picture.

Just then my stomach growled. Yeah, I was fucking hungry.

I put the book back in my bag and reached in my pocket. Two dollars, fuck.

Next time you want shampoo, conditioner, toothpaste and extra panties, either suck dick for more then twenty or go to the dollar store Mary Alice.

I faintly saw the symbolic golden arches in the distance and suddenly had a craving for Coke and a Mc Chicken sandwich.

When I opened the door to the restaurant, I was instantly assaulted by the smell of deep fried potatoes and grilled burgers. I walked up to the line at the counter, trying to figure out what it was going to cost me.

Finally it was my turn and like the idiot I was, I wasn't prepared. I didn't hear the guy talk to me at first, I was too busy staring at his 'fuck me' green eyes. I watched as his lip curled into a smirk.

He's talking to you dumb shit! My brain screamed at me.

"Oh, um… What can I get for two dollars?" I chewed on the inside of bottom lip, as I watched him look me over. He shook his head a bit as if answering himself.

"Tell me what you want and I'll tell you if you can get it." He said, his voice was deep and the accent was like those I heard in westerns.

"A Mc Chicken and a small Coke please." I gave him a half smile. He just nodded, then looked at me.

"That's two seventeen."

"Oh, then just the sandwich." I could feel the color rise on my cheeks. Again he nodded as he handed me my change and receipt. I could feel my knees get weak when his fingers touched my hand, making it tingle.

I said thank you as I headed over to where the napkins where. I could see him look over at me again, but I just shrugged it off. He no doubt thought that I was some dumb kid.

I pulled the hair tie off my wrist as I pulled my hair into a pony tail. It was spring, and long hair is not your friend in the warmer weather.

I tilted my head as I watch the guy work. He leaned over to reach for something giving me an excellent view of his ass. I bit back a smirk as I imagined grabbing his ass as he fucked me senseless. I shook my head at my thoughts. I was sure a guy as fucking sexy as he was, was spoken for.

I heard him call the number for my order and approached the counter. He stood there with a bag and a large Coke.

"Have a good day darlin'," he smiled at me as he handed me the stuff. I looked at him confused and quickly read his name tag. Jasper.

"There's some mistake Jas-" He cut me off with a look that clearly said to 'shut the fuck up'. I was terrified but extremely turned on by it.

"Have a good day." He said again, annunciating each word to emphasize it.

I rolled my eyes at him. There was no way in hell I was going to take a fucking hand out from the Rhett Butler wanna be.

"What time do you get off?" I asked.

His eyebrows practically shot up to the roof. "In two hours, why?"

"Because I have to repay you for this," I said as I grabbed the food and drink. He looked at me shell shocked as I spun on my heels to leave. I stopped glancing over my shoulder, "I'll see you after work, Jasper."

I walked back to the park, closer to the restaurant this time and checked the time on my cell phone. That's the only thing it was good for, since the step-monster made sure to kill my service the day after I left. I set the alarm function so I could get back before his shift ended, in case he decided to dodge me.

I took a sip of the Coke and smiled. It's been too long my old friend, I thought. I looked into the bag where there were two Mc Chickens, a thing of six piece nuggets, a medium fry, two apple pies and a thing of sweet and sour sauce. I giggled some. That was my favorite, how did he know I would like sweet and sour sauce?

I pulled out my sketch pad, drawing as I ate my lunch. This time I knew what I wanted to draw and was thankful that I could do it. I smiled as I saw his smirk coming to life with each stroke of my pencil. As the detail of his lips became clearer, I found myself cursing James for fucking me over. Never, in the last two years had I wanted to kiss someone as much as I found myself wanting Jasper. A complete stranger no less!

I licked the sweet and sour sauce off my bottom lip as I started to work on his eyes. I wished I had colored pencils to work with, but even they wouldn't do his eyes justice. They were such an unusual green, bright but darker towards the pupil.

I glanced down at what was left of my food. I only had the pies left. I carefully put them in my bag along with my notebook. I glanced at the time. I had an hour before it was time to see Jasper again. I groaned as I got off the grass. I know, I'll go clean up. No body likes a dirty whore.

After brushing my teeth and washing my hair in the bathroom at the park – thank God for the air dryer! I pulled my hair back up and looked at myself in the mirror. I frowned at my reflection. Even if I did give Jasper a decent blow job that's probably all I'll ever be to him, that random chick that blew him.

I shrugged at myself as I straighten out my shirt. Time to pay him back.

A/N: Tell us what you think! Review please!