AN: Thanks for all the love I got last chapter. I know I didn't respond to review, but I did read them. As a matter of fact, the review are still in my inbox.

I'll shut up…on with the show. All things Twilight belong to SM.

"I have a proposition for you," I heard him say and I died a little inside.

I've heard those words before and they weren't words I liked hearing. No matter what was in it for me, I always walked away the loser. If I wasn't degraded, then I was slaved. The money was never anything good, but when you literally don't have two pennies to rub together, you do what you have to do.

Looking back at Edward after he had spoken, I couldn't help but wonder why he would need my services. He was a better than good looking guy who could nab anyone he wanted – male or female. Not only that, he made it perfectly clear from the moment I bumped into him, that he didn't really like me.

I groaned internally when I realized that I was taking too long to respond. I was either going to be paid money or wiped of any debt that I owed him. Either way, there was no way that I could pass up anything he was offering.

After the very first time I had accepted a "proposition" I realized that I needed to set some ground rules. As if my rote memory, I began speaking.

"I have some rules," I began. He looked at me like I was crazy, probably wondering why someone in my position had standards at all. "First, hitting me is not allowed. Neither is spitting on me. Secondly, if someone else is going to be there, I want more money and advanced notice. Third, no anal. Four , I want half the money up front. Lastly, you will always use a condom."

He continued looking at me wide-eyed – like I had five heads. I didn't think my conditions were outlandish. If he thought about it, I left a whole lot of room to do a lot of things.

"What the hell are you talking about, lady?" he whisper-yelled.

I was my turn to look at him like he was the crazy one. "You said you had a proposition and I'm just letting you know that I'll accept as long as you can agree to my conditions."

"Well, I don't know what you thought I was talking about, but I can guarantee you it's nothing like that," he said, looking absolutely disturbed

… and again, I was left feeling embarrassed.

"Well…what are you talking about, then?" I asked, lowly, not meeting his eyes.

"You paint, right?" he asked.

I began staring at him, gaping like a fish. "How did you know that I used to paint?"

"I didn't. I just assumed you painted since you obviously sketch." He pointed to the napkin and rolled his eyes at me. "It's the same thing, right?"

I wanted to laugh at his ignorance, but didn't. "No, they're not the same thing, but yes, to answer your question again, I do paint."

It was something I hadn't done in years, but I didn't think that it was something that I could just "forget" how to do.

" Good. Well, anyway, I came down this way to speak with some guy named Ben about painting a portrait for me, but it fell through." My eyes widened in realization. "I can offer you the job and we'll be square. That," he said, pointing to the crumbled napkin again, "was really good. If you can do that, just on a bigger scale, then we can help each other out."

So he wanted me to…paint? Was he for real? There had to be a catch, but I was too scared to ask what it was.

"So what? You want me to paint a portrait of you?" I asked instead.

"No, my parents. And it's not really a portrait, per say. They wouldn't be modeling for you or anything. They have this old picture of them from when they first began dating. As a Christmas present, I wanted it painted on a canvas."

That was really nice of him! My mind wandered to the lady at the church, as a young bride with her arms tightly wrapped around a man that looked like Edward.

"What's your mom's name?" I asked. Maybe the next time I saw her, I could actually use it.

"Esme."

"Very unique. Your mom is a lovely woman. I would be happy to do it for you, but how would I be able to do it?" It wasn't like I could buy supplies and take them home with me.

"Well, Ben was going to buy the supplies and I was going to reimburse him, but that obviously isn't feasible for you," he responded, sounding annoyed by this fact. It seemed like he took every opportunity to throw my lack of resources back in my face. "Anyway, I guess I could just buy the materials that you would need."

Well, I guess that took care of that situation, but there was still the problem of an actual space to work.

"Ok. The thing is I don't really have anywhere stable to work." I thought for a moment. "I guess the warehouse would work, but the lighting is basically non-existent," I said to myself.

I heard Edward humorlessly laugh. "If you think that I trust you to work unsupervised, then you're sorely mistaken. The last thing I need is for you to sell my materials for drug money."

He wanted to think the absolute worst of me. I never gave him any reason to believe that I was on drugs. I could understand him not trusting me because, frankly, he doesn't know me. However, if I was going to be honest with myself, it seriously stung that he thought of me as nothing more than something that was stuck on the bottom of his expensive Italian loafers.

I swallowed back the hurt and nodded my head in agreement.

"You'll work at my place a couple of times a week, supervised at all times. Every day, you can work for a few hours then leave. When it's done, hopefully, I'll never have to see you again and you'll have paid me back for ruining one of my favorite shirts." He smiled. "That sounds about right."

Actually, that wasn't right, but I could never tell him that. He wouldn't believe me. I knew the value of my work. I was an up and coming artist – beginning to make a name for myself when everything went to hell. I was even featured in a small article in The Village Voice by an editor who happened to spot one of my paintings while visiting a relative in Seattle. I had a minimum charge of $500 – more than what I actually owed him. I may have still been in college, but there were people who actually wanted to pay me money for my art. But that was once upon a time.

"Is that okay with you?" he asked when I didn't immediately respond.

"Oh, yes, that's fine. Do you have the picture with you now?"

He nodded and dug in his coat pocket. He produced a folded paper that seemed like ordinary white, printer paper. He unfolded the sheet and handed it to me. I gently grabbed the creased paper to take a good look at my subject.

If I hadn't recognized Esme, I would swear the photo was fake. It looked like one of those photos that came in a new picture frame or wallet. Esme and who I assumed was Edward's father, were standing on a hilltop, the sun setting in the horizon, taking on that pinkish-orange color. Her arms were wrapped around the man's waist while her eyes were squeezed shut and her head turned to the side, wearing one of the biggest smiled I had ever seen . His head was dipped low, facing her and planting a kiss on her cheek.

The colors were intense, brilliant, and I couldn't wait to get to work.

"This picture is absolutely breath taking," I said smiling, looking back to Edward. He seemed uncomfortable, squirming in his seat. Immediately, I felt like an idiot gushing over a picture of his parents. "Sorry," I mumbled and handed him back his picture.

He cleared his throat. "So do you think that you can capture that moment on a canvass?"

Sadly, I couldn't – not really anyway. That picture captured a moment that was too beautiful to replicate, to do it justice.

"Nothing could capture that moment, but I'm honored that you trust me to try," I said, offering him a grateful smile. In a gesture that I've come to expect from him, he rolled his eyes at me.

"Honestly, it has nothing to do with trusting you. Their anniversary is a week before Christmas, so this is like a dual gift. I've been really busy these past few months and I let the ball drop. I'm in a pinch and right now, you're my last resort."

"Well, thanks" I thought. How was it possible that one man, one beautiful, insignificant man made me actually feel like the trash I was. Instead of voicing my thoughts, I just nodded in agreement. "Well, I hope you think I do a good job."

He shrugged. "So anyway, like I said, time is of the essence and you only have about a month. When can you start?"

Seriously? Should I tell him that I needed to check my schedule?

"I can start as soon as you buy the materials. Today or tomorrow is fine. Do you want me to give you a list of the supplies I'll need?"

"Yeah, that'd be great," he said, distracted, as he reached for his phone. While he was busy texting on his phone, I grabbed another napkin and began writing down the supplies he needed to pick up. It was harder than I thought it would be, for two reasons. First, I didn't even know if he was going to understand what he needed to get, regardless of me writing it. Hopefully, he was going somewhere where the sales people could help him.

The other reason it proved to be difficult was because just thinking about the paints and brushes as I wrote them down brought me back to a place that I could never return. The old Isabella was nowhere to be found and neither were the people who kept her grounded, supported her. Painting was always an escape for me, but I was fearful of what skeletons it would conjure up.

I quickly finished up when I noticed that he was putting his phone back in his pocket.

"I think that's about it," I said, looking over the list before I handed it over.

Once it was in his hand, he looked it over. "Alright, so how about you come over tomorrow? Can you meet me by the church?"

. It was going to be journey and a half to meet him by the church. Not only was it a long walk, but I would have to do it two times a day a couple of days a week. If that wasn't bad enough, the fact that winter came extremely early this year made the journey that much worse.

"Yeah, that fine," I finally answered, not really having a choice in the matter.

"Good, well I have to go. See you around noon tomorrow?" he asked, not even to wait for my answer. He scraped his chair against the floor in his eagerness to leave. I waved at his retreating form. Why? I have no clue.

With my uneaten half bagel now in a brown paper bag, I wrapped my coat closer to my body and walked outside. Again, I didn't have anywhere to be so I began walking around aimlessly. My mind was a mess with all thoughts art and Edward. I had a feeling that I couldn't quite understand. But I knew only one thing - taking Edward up on his offer was either going to make or break me.

Before I knew it, I was standing in front of St. Mark's church, the same church I would have to be at tomorrow. I had never been here before, aside from those few Sundays. It was quiet and a little unnerving to be here unprepared. Without anything else to do, and taking a deep breath, I walked up the front steps of the church. I put my ear up to the door to find out if there was a service going on or not, but I couldn't hear much through the massive door. Taking a chance, I went for the handle to see if the doors were locked. Fortunately, or possibly unfortunately, the doors were not locked and I was able to enter the basically empty church – with the exception of an older gentleman dusting a statue in the corner.

Said person stopped what he was doing when he heard me enter.

"Is it okay if I sit for a bit?" I asked the man. He smiled and nodded yes. Gratefully, I smiled back and began walking toward the alter. I hadn't been to church in a long time, but I knew enough to bow and do the sign of the cross before taking a seat in the pew

I felt so out of place here. This place was big and significant, where I was small and unimportant. It was a place of hope and I was a walking example of despondency.

I slouched on the pew, allowing my head to rest on the back of the bench. I closed my eyes for a brief moment, just needing a minute to not have to worry about anything. If nothing else, and despite the feeling of being out of my league here, I still felt safe.

I turned my head and opened my eyes. The first thing I saw was a stained glass window depicting the Virgin Mary with a child Jesus. I stared at the brilliant colors the coated the vicinity around the window with the help of the sun. Apart from the colors, I couldn't help but notice the soldering work in and around the window image.

Renee was into stained glass. It was only a hobby, so she never made anything big. I think the most elaborate thing she had ever made was a short Tiffany imitation lamp shade. Other than that, she made small piece that she hung throughout the house and windows. There were even some she would hang off the tree in our front yard instead of wind chimes.

Before I even realized it, one tear turned into two tears that raced down my cheek. I missed her so much. I always asked myself, even to this day, what I could have done differently. If I called home more, would I still have my parents? Would my art have taken off? Would I still have my best friend? But then again, I can't blame losing Rosalie on anyone but myself.

My body felt extremely heavy and my mind weighed a ton. Looking around for someone I may have missed, I laid down on the pew. Before I knew it, I had fallen asleep. Funny enough, it was one of the better sleeps I've had since living on the streets.

"Miss. Miss, Miss, I need to start locking up now," I heard someone say from above me. I slowly opened my eyes to see the older man from before.

"Sorry," I said, groggily. My throat was raspy and dry from sleep. "Is there a water fountain, or a bathroom with a sink around here?" I asked.

"Sure," he said, smiling at me. "Wait right here one second."

"Thanks."

He returned not three minutes later. "I forgot to put it in the fridge before, so it's not very cold but it's unopened. Here you go." He handed me an unopened bottle of water and I took it eagerly.

"Thank you so much." I took a huge gulp to relieve the scratchy feeling in my throat.

I thanked him again and left, allowing him to properly close up. Before leaving, I saw that a wall clock in the church lobby read three o'clock.

If I paced myself just right, I could make it in time to the soup kitchen. I walked with determination; I kept my head down and walked in the direction that would take me where I needed to go the fastest. As I walked I heard hushed whispers as I passed and couldn't help but think that they were talking about me, even though they had no reason to be. While I wasn't dressed beautifully, my clothing certainly didn't give anything away about me, either.

When I finally arrived at the soup kitchen, I still had about twenty minutes to spare before they started letting people in. A line had already formed despite the early time. Making my way to the back, I spotted a familiar looking man. my blood ran cold and I stopped in my tracks for a second. I sprinted the rest of the way to the back of the line. It didn't seem like he saw me and for that I was relieved.

At the back of the line, I made myself as small as possible. If he didn't see me before, I wanted to make sure he didn't see me now. Thankfully, as more people came, the more crowded the line got and I was able to hide behind bodies. Soon enough, the doors were opening and the line began moving in.

Grabbing a tray, I put everything I could on it and found a table that was fairly full. I always preferred to eat alone, or as alone as possible, but today I wanted to remain unseen. I was half way through my meal when I saw the same man. However, he saw me too and began grinning. Despite how hungry I was, I got up to throw what was left on my tray in the trash and immediately left. I began walking the few blocks toward the shelter, hoping to get a good spot in line, effectively guaranteeing me a bed. I tried ridding the horrible memories away on my walk.

When I was two blocks away, someone began walking along side me. I looked to the side and my steps faltered.

"Why'd you leave so soon?" the guy asked, still grinning. I began walking again and picked up my pace.

"Aww, don't be like that." He sped his steps to keep up with mine. "Don't tell me you're still upset with me. I didn't want to hurt you, but I had to make sure you didn't fight back. It wasn't personal, I just needed money. You know what that's like."

"Can you just please leave me alone?" I asked, but continued looking down at the sidewalk.

He sighed. "You're making a big deal out of this. Stop acting like you've never been jumped before."

"It doesn't make it any easier," I whispered.

"Whatever. We could have had some fun times, me and you. The name is Peter. Come find me when you're not so sensitive." He ran his finger down my arm before making a sudden right hand turn unto a street that I wasn't very familiar with and I couldn't be more grateful.

As much as I hated to admit it, he was right. I've been jumped too many times to count, although many of them weren't that serious. But even still, every bruise and cut that I received could have been the one to get infected and cause some serious damage. I wasn't being sensitive, just…I didn't even know.

Every time something like that happened to me, it didn't take a toll on me just physically. It always brought a flood of memories and regrets rushing back. Usually, the first person I thought of was Jane. I tried to remember how she taught me how to throw a punch, or block one. Would she be pissed if I lost this fight since she taught me better?

Then I would think of Rosalie. Was she married yet like she wanted to be? If I hadn't made the choices that I made would I be hanging out with her right now instead of lying in a gutter?

Lastly, I thought of my parents and how I had to be the biggest disappointment to them. Were they looking down at me, shaking their heads, wondering where they went wrong? If I ever met up with them again, would they shun me because their only child had become a part time prostitute?

I wish that every time I took a punch to the face or a kick to the stomach it was just the physical pain I felt, but it was always so much more.

I continued to wonder the streets and took in the sights before me, wanting to rid my thoughts of Peter. When I figured enough time had passed, I turned and headed to the direction of the shelter. I wasn't sure how cold it was supposed to be tonight, but with winter around the corner the cold temperature was almost promised.

As if I was experiencing déjà vu, I saw Peter already standing in line. However, this time he saw me almost instantly and immediately my hackles went up. Everything in me was saying that nothing good was going to come out of tonight and if I learned only one thing living on the streets, it's that I needed to follow my instincts.

Instead of stopping when I reached the back of the line, I kept on going. I would probably regret not staying in the shelter later tonight, but right now I didn't. The warehouse was usually my second option when I couldn't secure a cot at the shelter, but I needed to be alone.

I kept walking, not having a real direction. Wherever my feet carried me was where I was heading. I hadno idea how long I was walking as I became lost in my own head, but soon enough I was standing in front of an all too familiar building. I looked up to the now darkened and star lit sky and saw the high cross hovering over everyone down below. It was weird how I rarely came to this part of town and now it seemed like I couldn't stay away. Something was always bringing me back to this church

I quickly jogged up the front steps to see if the doors were unlocked. As I expected, they were locked. However, the locked doors didn't deter me. I didn't plan on breaking in or anything, but there was no way I was planning on leaving the vicinity of the church. I walked around the side of the church that I never particularly paid attention to, as I never had a reason to. There was a curved ramp to allow access to wheelchairs. But what really caught my attention was the patch of grass that was hidden by the ramp. It wasn't very big and would not give away my location easily.

I walked up the ramp and ducked between the bars to get over to the grass. Luckily, it was dry enough to not dampen my pants. I sat down and rested my back against the highest part of the ramp. I could already tell that it would not be a good night's sleep, but this was my best alternative.

The more I tried to get comfortable, the more I missed sleeping in a bed, or even a stiff, scratchy cot. But tonight I couldn't have either of those. If I didn't think that Peter would try something at the shelter than I would have gotten on line, but I just had a bad feeling. Staying at the motel wasn't an option since I had no money and I swore to myself I would never sleep with James again for a room.

The warehouse wasn't an option either tonight. While it would have provides a little warmth, there would be absolutely no privacy and I would be up half the night just making sure no one was lurking too closely to me. Even my usually safe haven behind the billboard wasn't good enough tonight.

When I finally managed to get as comfortable as I was going to get resting upon grass and concrete, I closed my eyes. I think I managed to get about fifteen minutes of sleep before paranoia got to me. My eyes flew open, scanning my surroundings and checking for anything out of the ordinary. When I felt that everything was "okay", I let myself fall back to sleep.

It was a fitful night and I hadn't expected any differently. Somehow I ended up lying on my side, my face resting against the grass. When my body couldn't take the position anymore, I sat up to slowly stand up. I stretched to help get the kinks out. Almost immediately, my stomach began growling, but that was nothing new. I never had enough food.

Standing up, I ducked under the railing again to get to the other side. Before I took a seat on the ramp, I took a look around to make sure no one was around. Inside, I knew it was disrespectful to hang out in front of the church, but logically it didn't make sense to leave. Seeing that there was no one close by, I sat crisscross and leaned against the railing. I took the paper bag out of my coat pocket and began removing the half eaten bagel.

"Bella?" I heard someone call my name. I looked around me, feeling like a deer caught in headlights with my mouth full of bagel as I searched for the person calling my name.

"Over here." I looked to my left in time to see Edward walking toward me. He seemed bundled up and warm with a plastic bag in each arm.

"What time is it? Am I late?" I asked. There was no way that it was noon already.

"No. It's only nine. What are you doing here so early?"

I shrugged, not really wanting to divulge the fact that I slept here.

"So I guess you had dinner last night," he said, pointing to the bagel I held in my hand.

"Yeah. It was a good thing I held on to this half," I responded lamely, trying to keep up with my part of this awkward conversation. He began studying me and I instantly became nervous under his stare.

"Did you sleep here last night?" he finally asked.

His question caught me off guard and I began choking on the hard dough that was in my mouth.

"Why do you ask that?" I asked when I was finally able to swallow.

"Because you have blades of grass in your hair." My hand flew up to my hair to fish out anything that was stuck. True to his word, I plucked out three blades and a twig.

He stood there awkwardly while I continued to sit and pick at the bagel. It wasn't until I heard him sigh did I look up. "Do you just want to head over to my place now? We'll get started early and finish early."

I looked to my cratered bagel, figuring it was probably best to go now. Not only would I get out of the cold, but I would probably leave in time to make it to the soup kitchen.

"Sure," I said while rewrapping my bagel.

We began walking together with some distance between us.

"So why'd you sleep outside the church last night?" he asked. I couldn't tell if he was actually curious or just trying to make conversation.

"It was the best option," I simply replied. In my peripheral, I saw him nod his head.

"Weren't you cold? It was like ten degrees last night."

I shrugged. "You get used to it," I lied. You don't get used to being cold; you just learn to endure it.

We spent the next few minutes walking in silence. Fortunately, he lived quite close to the church – about five blocks. Not to my surprise at all, we walked into a large building which housed, I would say, about a hundred condos.

"Hello, Mr. Cullen," someone in a uniform greeted Edward.

"Hey, Brady," Edward greeted back. Brady gave me a wave in which I returned very timidly.

The elevator ride up was quick, making a straight stop to the seventh floor. His apartment was directly across from the elevator.

The inside of his apartment was absolutely gorgeous; I could see myself living in a place decorated like this. The décor was white, black, and red. A white leather couch rested in the center of the living room on top of a plush black carpet. I could easily sleep on either the sofa or carpet and still be more comfortable that I would be on the motel bed.

"Give me a second to put this stuff away and then we can talk," he said as he was walking to the kitchen.

I stood in the same spot as I waited for him to return. I wanted to sit on the sofa so badly, but I was scared that I would somehow ruin it.

"Just come into the kitchen so we can talk here. I'm running kind of late already," he hollered from the next room. I furrowed my brows at no one. How could he be running late if I was already here? Was he going to blow me off or something?

Deciding it was now a non-issue, I started walking in the direction I had seen him go just moments before.

The kitchen was absolutely pristine with stainless steel appliances and see through cabinets.

And holy shit were they full! I hadn't seen so much food in a house in so long.

I walked to the island. "Can I sit?" I asked him.

"Yeah, go ahead. I got called into work so we have to make this quick," he said, texting furiously on his phone.

"I can just go and come back another time. Just tell me when and I'll meet you somewhere."

He shook his head. "No. I texted my cousin and she's gonna hang out here while I'm gone. So anyway, here's the deal. Whenever you're working here, I'll be around or Alice will, my cousin that's coming over. If neither one of us can stay then you'll have to leave and come back later," he began. He had his arms crossed over his chest while looking at me with hard eyes. I nodded in understanding.

"The stuff is set up in the guestroom where you'll be working. Try not to mess up the room with paint and stuff and definitely don't trail paint in the rest of the house. Don't show up unexpectedly." I nodded again.

"Is there anything I should know about you?" he asked. "Health wise, I mean."

He seemed to be stereotyping me through and through.

"No. I don't have any diseases or anything. I get myself checked over at the free clinic every month. I can't guarantee that I'll be hygienic the whole time, but I'll try my best." I shrugged when he scrunched his face in disgust. Showering was a luxury that I probably wouldn't be partaking in any time soon.

There were always fast food bathrooms.

"Well, I think that might be it for now," he said. "Oh wait, how long do you think this is going to take you? Obviously, the faster the better."

"If you let me come a few days a week and stay for about four or five hours I's day about two or three weeks."

He thought about it. "I guess that'll work."

We remained quiet after he gave be the basic guidelines. I began looking around the kitchen at all of his amazing appliances that looked brand new and unused. I was never a great cook, but I could bake with the best of them, thanks to my grandmother Carmen, Renee's mom.

When my eyes finally rested on the sleek granite countertop I heard Edward shuffling his feet. My eyes turned to him just in time to see him snatching his wallet off the table.

"Can't be too careful," he mumbled.

I was absolutely mortified at his assumption of me. "I wouldn't steal from you," I said slowly.

"But you do steal, so what makes me different?" he asked, smugly.

"Because you learn not to bite the hand that feeds you." He shrugged but still didn't look ashamed for calling me out. He walked over to the fridge and took out a bottle of water without offering me one. I would have loved one!

"So how long are you thinking about staying today?" he asked, taking a long sip from the bottle.

"Three, maybe? I just need enough time to get to the soup kitchen by five. Do you want me to come by tomorrow?"

"Not sure," he said, looking at his watch and grumbling about how long his cousin was taking to get here. "I'll let Alice know if I'm not here by the time you leave."

There was another awkward silence that was killed by the door bell.

"Finally!" Edward grabbed his coat before racing to open the door.

He greeted and spoke with his cousin quickly before leaving. As I stood in the kitchen, I couldn't think of how mean Edward was to me. But at the same time, I couldn't be more grateful.

AN: Thanks for reading!

Before I begin on the next chapter, I have a question. I really didn't want to post this story un-beta'd but I have little patience. Anyway, my question is this, should I put this story on hold while I get the chapters beta'd or post a chapter then have it beta'd? I'm cool with whatever.

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