A/N: Finally an update! I'm so sorry, but the next one should be up early next week. It ran on.

Thank you cdunbar for betaing this in like an hour! You are too good!

Thank you jennday for loving this story and pimping it over on the gazebo where you can discuss updates if you want.

OH and I have important announcements, but read the chapter first!

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight and The Clash own White Riot

13. Fear (My Mirror Pain is Cracking)

'Are you taking over

Or are you taking orders?

Are you going backwards

Or are you going forwards?'

White Riot by The Clash

By the time I returned home I was covered in scales of impenetrable steel and prepared to face whatever Rose chose to throw at me, whether she would simply ignore me, or use snide looks and comments to show her displeasure. I was prepared for all; confident the barbs would glance off my armour and float harmlessly to the floor like feathers.

Yet it all proved unnecessary as Emmett and Rose were both out when I returned home. So I happily went upstairs and read Kafka in my room.

Some time later, still firm in my convictions about Kafka's work, I heard the front door open and close. The tapping and scuffling of shoes, muffled voices and swishing of clothes made me slowly close my book, place it next to me on my bed and slide off the blue quilted cover. I tentatively left my room and made my way downstairs, pausing awkwardly at the foot of the stairs as I silently watched Rose and Emmett bustle around the kitchen packing away groceries.

I was brittle, my outside formed from the hardest marble and inside echoed emptiness. I wanted to continue trying with Rose, to bring back as much of the sister I was before that I could resurrect. I was not put off by my failure this morning. I simply needed to try a different tactic. Burying my head in the sand and casually dismissing my current personality clearly wasn't wise.

With my head slightly cast down and eyes peeking up under the loose hair falling over my face, I walked slowly into the kitchen and stopped in front of the breakfast bar. A wooden, metal and plastic barrier stood between me and my sister. And the spiralling of years stretching back into our respective pasts.

Emmett paused as he put a box into the cupboard. "Rose," he said gently. Rose looked to him from where she was crouching by the cupboard under the sink. Emmett's eyes flickered in my direction and she half swivelled toward me. Her eyes widened and with brisk fluidity she stood and faced me.

She stared at me with torn eyes as I looked back with my blank visage. Change wasn't an easy thing and I was trying to make a start.

"Hello," I said blandly. She cleared her throat nervously and smiled weakly at me.

"Hi." Her voice was hoarse and I frowned inside as to why her voice sounded so harsh. Her eyes looked red, swollen and her cheeks were flushed.

"Have you been crying?" I blurted, no emotion evident in my voice. But I hoped she could sense sincerity from my spontaneity.

"Uh-- yes, a-- a bit," she stuttered, her eyes flickering to and away from Emmett rapidly. If she was looking to him to make her decision, she was out of luck because Emmett looked like he was floundering at sea without a life-jacket.

"Why? Was it because of me?" I looked at her steadily and she flinched at my disgustingly flippant tone. I didn't mean it.

She looked down, wringing her hands and breathing quickly. Emmett came over to her and placed an arm round her shoulders. She started and shook him off.

"Please don't, remember?" she whispered. He apologized and moved away.

I began to feel a strange sensation in my forehead and eyebrows, almost like gravity was fighting to pull my eyebrows down and my forehead to fall and crease into a frown. I realized I desperately wanted to show my confusion and worry. But my mask was stronger and more immovable. The walls I had built around my mind, heart and emotions were built on strong foundations and not enough cracks had appeared yet. I didn't want any cracks, I needed more time.

"Bella," Rose said with a grating voice, desperate to sound firm. If only she could stop the shaking. She folded her arms across her body and clenched her fists.

"I was crying today because of you. And... because of me-- a lot of reasons," she finished quietly and with a hushed voice. Her lip trembled despite the force with which she was biting it. Emmett looked like he was aching to put his arms around her.

I said nothing and I did nothing. I looked at Rose for a moment, the sensations of expressions I so desperately wanted to pull flitted over my face, under the surface of my skin. I turned to look at Emmett, and he looked at me with such intense pain that I felt my lungs twinge in a desire to gasp. I had never seen Emmett look so lost in anguish. He stood in the kitchen with his hands useless at his sides, his arms empty. And he was trapped in a snare I was not aware had been present.

"What reasons?" With exertion I did not know I possessed I allowed the determination I felt burning inside me to bleed through ever so slightly into my words. Rose's eyebrows flickered at the minor alteration in my tone. I cringed inwardly as a quick jab of pain fled through my head; the fixings of my façade were fastened with pain.

"I-- We've been going to see a therapist on Sundays," Rose confessed quickly.

"Why?" The word was pulled from my tongue without my consent and I could hear pain in my tone, which was followed swiftly by real pain in my head as a second knife slid in.

Another agonized glance was shared between Rose and Emmett, Emmett's face turned pleading as he pulled the muscles around his mouth outward and his eyes squinted.

Rose turned from him and looked back at me. The openness of her feelings hit me with a poignancy I could feel right down to my bones. I had never felt so jealous of my beautiful older sister.

Her staring at me helplessly and with a lost look on her face made my arms ache with the reflexive urge to comfort her.

The pain in my head worsened and I tensed the muscles in my arms, an attempt to prevent my arms from answering the emotional command.

"I'm sorry...." she whispered regretfully, looking at both me and Emmett, and I knew that was all the answer I was going to get.

I didn't push as I refused to be a hypocrite. We all hide behind our walls. Some are more reinforced than others but we all do it. And if Rose wanted to tell me what she hid from, then she would when she wanted.

I nodded slowly and turned to go.

"Wait!" Her cry came out in a gasping sob and I turned back to see the glistening of her tears glide down her peachy skin. She made a slight, nervous bouncy movement on her toes and repetitively squeezed her hands into a fist before opening them again. She savaged her bottom lip as she looked determinedly at me, and then she moved carefully around the breakfast bar. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise up and my right arm twitched, but I fought my body's desire to cower. It hurt too much to react. Rose stepped in front of me, closed her eyes, bent down and put her arms around me. Her embrace was gentle, even though her thin body felt angular and difficult to relax into. Besides the fact that literally every part of my psyche was screaming at me with the volume of a thousand Valkyries to either respond or to back away,

I took a deep breath and made a decision, come hell or high water.

I lifted my left arm and rested it loosely on her back, my hand limp and my elbow bent.

Rose let out a wet, gasping laugh at my movement. She tightened her grip on me and I wondered just what the hell I had become if this was enough to make her happy.

She pulled back to look at me, smiling despite the tears that made her face red and blotchy.

I wanted to smile back. I wanted to make Rose happy, to forget all the suitcases of bullshit that I constantly carried around with me, but I couldn't stop the unbearable fucking pounding pain that was squeezing my head.

I closed my eyes against the light that felt suddenly so harsh, my arm around Rose had slipped and I lifted it to my head unthinkingly. The action caused a burst of pain to splinter through my mind and I staggered back as dizziness hit me.

"Bella?" Rose's urgent voice, still hoarse but now sounding worried, broke through the waves of pain, but didn't helped.

"Bella, what's wrong?" I felt her grasp my elbow. The contact hurt and I flinched.

"D-don-n't touch me.... p-please, d-don't," I stammered as I felt stone hands locking my head in a vice and crushing my skull.

Blindly I managed to manoeuvre myself upstairs. I squinted through bleary eyes to confirm I was walking through the right bedroom door and once safely inside my room, I fell on my bed, placed a pillow over my tender head to block out as much light as possible and slept.

And dreamt of ghosts.

I woke up what I presumed to be hours later. I noticed my curtains had been closed, the pillow removed and a wet flannel placed on my head. It fell off sloppily when I sat up against the headboard. A loud creak and spring sounded out in the silence and I swear Rose was using it as a cue because not two minutes later I heard a knock on my door. Followed not two seconds later by her head peeking round the door.

"Can I come in?" she whispered. I nodded, staring at her like a dumb animal with dead eyes. I chose not to let it bother me the fact that my façade had settled over me with startlingly quickness and without my notice.

She walked into my room, her face clean, fresh, and covered in her cosmetics. She was wearing a green silky looking dress, which I realised was for Alice's. I looked down at my scruffy t-shirt and jeans. My socks had holes in the heels and my nails were bitten to the quick. I wasn't even aware I bit my nails. I suddenly felt incredibly self conscious of my appearance and when Rose perched carefully on the edge of my bed, smiling placidly at the wounded animal that was her sister, I felt myself burning to move away from her. For fear of tainting her.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, the smile she wore looked concerned and genial. Her tone was maternal and intimate. I hated that I didn't trust her, that I found myself questioning her. I knew Rose loved me. I loved Rose, but there was a side to her I had seen and it was that side I couldn't love, or trust.

"Fine," I croaked, becoming aware of how dry my throat felt. Following the signs, I lifted a hand to my cheek to find it sticky. I had cried and shouted again, my subconscious' slideshow at work once more.

"You weren't as loud this time, honey," Rose told me gently as she reached out to touch my arm. I moved my arm at the last moment, so her hand rested on my leg instead. I bristled internally at her term of endearment, now I knew there was an element of phoniness to her actions.

Rose only called someone 'honey' when she pitied them, or if she wanted something.

I didn't doubt that she cared for me, I just knew there was more at work here than sisterly concern. And all I could do was sit and wait for her to reveal her poisonous hand.

At my lack of a reply she looked down at her lap, took a breath and took her hand off my leg.

"Emmett and I are going to Alice's for dinner," she said, looking down at her lap still. Her voice sounded rueful and I casually pondered why.

"Will you be alright on your own?" she added before I could reply. I nearly gasped in surprise, but I fought it down and replied in my best disinterested tone.

"I thought I was invited as well." I saw her eyes widen and she leaned back slightly.

"Did you want to come?" Her voice was high in surprise.

"Yes." My own was a disappointing blankness. Low and hollow.

"I just assumed-- I'm sorry, I thought you wouldn't want to. I'll ring Alice and tell her you're coming then." She hastily stood up with a smile and moved to the door. Before closing it behind her she suggested I change.

For once I was actually inclined to agree with her.

I got under the shower, the water as hot as possible and I relished in the pulsing power beating down on me and battering my body. But I didn't feel anything – no force, no heat. I just felt buffeted.

I stepped out carefully, wrapped a towel around me and walked swiftly through the cooling air of the hallway to my room. Opening up my closet, I looked at my drab and dreary clothes, nearly all dark colours, nearly all t-shirts and a couple of pairs of jeans and trousers, some sweaters. And then there were my other clothes, the ones folded in piles at the bottom or on shelves, where I had found my Guns 'N' Roses t-shirt.

This new awareness of my appearance was still lingering in the air about me and I wanted to wear something different, but I didn't know precisely why. Maybe because I was sick of feeling like the ugly sister.

Maybe because I was getting sick of hating everything about myself. Maybe because Edward would be there, and as much as I had enjoyed our conversation, his scrutinising eyes made me feel like I was not aesthetically pleasing to him. I felt a prickle of fear run down my spine as I realized I wanted to be. As I rifled through folded piles of clothes, never quite finding just the thing, and discovering garments I couldn't believe I ever wore, I mulled over my strange epiphany about Edward.

I did not think he was especially handsome. He was a lot older than me, greying, wrinkled and his manner could be quite brusque. Almost rude. When we were talking I felt most of the time as though he was dismissing my opinion entirely, like I had to prove it to him. But I could tell he had a ferocious intellect, that he felt things deeply, and no one could deny he had beautiful eyes. I decided to rationalize my strange new urge as a reaction to wanting to equal myself to him. I wanted to prove my own intellect and possibly some of my natural beauty if I could. Sadly, I doubted I was as clever as he was, and I doubted I could ever be as attractive as him. Despite the fact I would not have described him as handsome myself, I could see others would think so.

My hand hit some silky material as I finished that thought with a satisfying tone. I pulled out what I had come across and discovered it was a dark blue blouse made out of a light satin. I couldn't remember when I had ever worn it, but it looked suitable for dinner at Alice's. I shook it out, hoping to get rid of some of the creases, and pulled off a pair of black skinny leg jeans – the ones I'd worn to Irina's party, I noticed – and some underwear from my drawer.

Instead of roughly drying my body and throwing my clothes on still slightly damp skin, I took my time, found a nearly empty bottle of moisturiser which I spread over as much of my body as possible and spritzed myself with a perfume I'd never worn before. I then began the aching task of french plaiting my hair whilst waiting for my body to dry and soak in the moisturiser.

Ten minutes later and with stiff arms, I pulled on my underwear, jeans and blouse. It fitted a little too loosely but as I surveyed myself in the mirror, I decided not too badly.

I then picked up a metallic white eyeshadow that was roughly five years old and only had powder in the corners, and lightly dusted my eyelids. I applied a few strokes of mascara and picked out a shiny pink lip balm for my lips. Both had never been used before.

I stepped back from my dresser, looking at my reflection in the mirror as I rubbed my lips together. My face was still pallid, still plain and nondescript. Nothing about me stood out or was special, my hair was tightly scraped back in the french plait and my eyebrows stood out thickly. I sighed and frowned, looking down at my dresser top. The scatterings of my attempt to beautify myself lay haphazardly and messily around the wooden surface. I picked it all up and opened my top drawer to put them back. Nestled in between my socks lay my hairdryer with the cord wrapped around the nozzle. I never used it.

I dropped my make-up back in the box and lifted out my hairdryer. Plugging it in, I pulled out the hair band from the plait which took so long to do. I combed my fingers through my hair to untangle it, but a kink still remained though. I turned on my hairdryer and began to dry my hair. The length and the thickness meant it was quite a job, especially when I realized I was actually using a travel hairdryer. I kept an eye on the clock as I moved the dryer around my head swiftly, trying to accomplish the job as fast as possible. It was twenty past five and I guessed we'd be leaving in about fifteen minutes.

For the next five minutes I one-handedly, frantically dried my hair with the dryer and with the other tidied up whatever was close at hand and got my things together. Finally I felt most of my hair seemed to be dry as I patted it with my free hand. I turned off my dryer, unplugged it and hastily put it back in my drawer. I stuffed my feet in black flats and as I straightened up, grabbed the comb from the top of my dresser. I began to try and tug the comb through my hair, which I know realized was looking very... big. Big and wild.

It had dried with a bit of a kink to it and was looking much thicker than usual. The unrestrained-ness off it made the red in my hair much more noticeable and I looked uncertainly at myself in the mirror. I wasn't sure if I looked like I'd been electrocuted or if it looked full bodied, and well... kind of nice.

A soft knocking on my door and no blonde head popping around meant it was Emmett.

"Come in," I called, careful over my tone.

Emmett opened the door and stepped in, a small smile on his face until he saw me. His eyes popped out from his head and his mouth fell open a little. The self consciousness became very prominent suddenly.

"Bella... you-" he started to say, but I cut him off.

"I know. I was just about to tie it back." I reached for the hair band and my brush.

"No, don't!" I started at his loud tone and turned to him. He was still partially covered by the open door and he ran his hand nervously down the edge of the frame, over the handle then back up again.

"You look nice, Bella. You've always had lovely hair. Please don't tie it up again. Makes you look so..." He paused and pulled a thoughtful face. "A bit too severe." He looked steadily at me, a comforting smile on his face. With Emmett I never doubted the genuineness of his gestures and words. But he was too firmly placed in the classification of family in my mind and I could not allow my façade to lift around him. Family hurts you, and stifles you. They don't mean to, but they do.

I put the hair band and brush back down on my dresser top, reached for my jacket and made to get my bag before thinking, What the hell would I need it for anyway?

Emmett stepped back from my door into the hall and I followed him out, closing my door behind me.

We met Rose by the front door as she was stuffing keys into her over-large purse. She looked up when she heard us coming down the stairs, Emmett behind me. A look of shock fell over her face as she looked at me, and my hand burned with the urge to pat my hair down.

"You look nice, Bella," she said, her voice skewed in too high a pitch.

"Thank you," I replied in my quiet voice that communicated nothing. "You too," I added pointing at her dress.

"Thanks." Her face brightened in a smile. Emmett edged past me and took Rose's arm with a proud grin. As fond as I was of Emmett, I found his and Rose's little smug, simpering act a little nauseous as they both walked out the door together smiling at the 'progress' I'd made. Like I was some mute, feral child they'd taken in and they were teaching to be civilised. Well, their version of civilised anyway.

I followed Rose and Emmett out the door, closing it behind me, and to the car. I decided I didn't want to be trained to fit in with their version of civility. I liked my own.

I got in the backseat since Rose drove, and stared out the window to watch the stars twinkle next to the yellow glow of the streetlamps that we passed. I didn't want to be that manufactured light, which hummed and cast jaundiced glows over the world. I wanted to twinkle brilliant white light miles and miles and miles away from where I was right now. I wanted to get away and be free. But there was something clinging to my heels and dragging me backward, or maybe I wasn't moving at all.

Maybe I hadn't tried to move yet. If I made one very big effort, to take just one step, how far would I go?

As we drove to Alice's house, twilight falling and stars shining, I thought about those we so want to leave behind.

And those who left us behind.

A/N: SO yeah..... Big chapter really. And so will the next one be I think.

ANyway I have 2 announcements:

1. The Boy in the Cafeteria has been nominated in the Indie Twifics, if I got to the next round I'd be flipping ecstatic, please vote!

http://theindietwificawards(dot)com/ValidatedStories(dot)aspx

2. cdunbar and I are hosting a contest called 'An Exploration of the Senses'.

Basically you write a oneshot based on one of the five senses, details are on my profile and I've written an example based on hearing.

cdunbar has written one based on touch and it's beautiful.

Hope you liked the chapter, hope you vote for bitc and hope you enter our contest!

Thank you