AN: As always, I apoligize if there are any misspellings or grammar mistakes, but I hope that you will enjoy it anyway :)

Thank you so much for favoriting and alerting :) and a special thanks to Ja4ever, thank you so much for all of your reviews and for favoriting and alerting! :D

Love, Snowflake

(I'm sorry that my chapters are so short... I really am trying to make them longer... but I find it quite difficult)


Jasper

After four days in bed, I was finally feeling well again. It had been a while since last time I was too sick to go to work, and I couldn't wait to get back. Being sick made me feel weak, and I did not like feeling weak.

Rosalie was my own personal angel; she came over every day to see how I was doing, and although she complained a lot, I knew that she didn't mind it. Rosalie was so easy to read, at least for me.
We were very close, and even though there were some things I tried to keep from her, she always found out somehow. She could be a real bitch sometimes, but after she'd found Emmett, she had become a much nicer person. They weren't very alike; actually, they were very different from each other. While Rosalie was formal, composed and a bit reserved, Emmett was outgoing, open-minded and easy to be around. But as it is said, opposites attract, and they were a perfect match. They were rarely apart, and I found it quite flattering that Rosalie left Emmett for a few hours every day, just so she could look after me.

But when she wasn't around, I was alone. It gave me a lot of time to think, as I had nothing else to do beside sleeping (I couldn't read, because every time I tried to focus on the words, my head ached like it was about to explode, I couldn't watch bad sitcoms, because the intensity of all the colors made my eyes hurt and I couldn't listen to music because my iPod was in my coat pocket, and my coat was with that girl, Alice Brandon) and although I was extremely tired, I could hardly sleep for four days straight.

Instead, I thought about Alice Brandon. I knew where she lived, and I thought about whether or not I should go back and get my jacket, but finally, I decided that I would, for Rosalie. She gave me that jacket, and she took it as an insult that I had left it with a stranger.

It was a bright, but cold day when I stepped outside for the first time in almost five days, wearing my dark grey winter coat for the first time that year. It was the 20th of November and it was getting colder and colder. The snow probably wasn't far away.

As I made my way across the street, I wondered how Alice Brandon (I stubbornly referred to her by her full name in my thoughts – using just her first name would have felt too personal) would react.
Would she be mad? Maybe she wanted to sell the jacket; it was a nice, expensive jacket from some luxurious European brand, and if she was a drug addict, she might need the money. I remembered the blue shadows under her eyes and her ghostly, white skin; she definitely looked like a drug addict. And why else would she live where she lived? The only people who lived in that neighborhood were drug addicts, alcoholics, hookers and criminals.
But Alice Brandon didn't look like a hooker. She didn't look like a criminal either, but although she didn't look like an alcoholic, I had to admit that it was definitely an option. She had been drinking quite heavily when I met her at that diner.

It only took about 10 minutes to get from the "good" neighborhood to the "bad" neighborhood, but the distance felt much longer. The difference between the neighborhoods was striking, and sometimes it was like there was a wall separating them. Those who lived in the bad neighborhood stayed there, and the rich people, people like Rosalie, Emmett and all of my other friends, wanted to keep it that way.

I felt like I was breaking a rule when I finally found the right building and walked up the stairs. The stairway was extremely narrow and the ceiling was so low I almost hit my head against it. I wondered how I had managed to carry Alice Brandon all the way up, in darkness even, without getting her hurt. Would she even remember? I hesitated in front of her door. Would it be better to forget about her and just leave her alone?

I sighed. Then I held my breath and knocked.