Disclaimer: I am but a mere peasent. Not SM. No money for me. Srsly. Creditors call me daily.

Chapter Four: Reflection

I have come curiously close to the end, down
beneath my self-indulgent pitiful hole,
defeated, I concede and
move closer
I may find comfort here
I may find peace within the emptiness. (mjk)

BPOV:

The rush of moving bodies and wayward glances my way overwhelmed me. The halls of Fork's High School was filled with an assortment of bored and uninterested faces; all shuffling through the building giving me raised eyebrows or judgmental stares. I wondered if my walking with Alice and her extremely easy on the eyes boyfriend, Jasper, had anything to do with it. These Cullen's certainly knew had to draw attention, that was for sure. It wasn't as though they actively sought it out, I had decided by this point. There was just something about them, something about all of them, that had this magnetic pull.

I had decided that Alice's draw was definitely in the way she moved. She seemed to flow rather than walk; the air around her almost crackled against her movements. She told me years ago she had been a dancer, and had even danced ballet competitively when she was a younger.

She didn't tell me why she stopped, and I couldn't bring myself to ask.

The morning's events had upset my equilibrium. I woke up a little after 5:30; restless and unable to fall back into sleep. I tried playing my Walkman, but my batteries were dead, and I realized I didn't have any replacements.

And then it had started. It came as it always does. First my heart starts pounding, but the beating is erratic and uneven; coming in wild and random pulsations that almost make me question whether or not my heart will pop out of my chest.

The palpitations help to manifest the rest. My breathing becomes ragged and my mouth completely dries. And then I am sobbing. I am crying and sobbing and hyperventilating and I can hardly breathe and I am shaking and there is no reasoning with me; there is nothing to pull me out of it until it passes.

And it does. It takes some time, but eventually it does.

As my heart is what starts it, a slow quieting of the beating signals the closing of the panic attack. The sporadic beats somehow become more regular, and soon they fall into a steady rhythm, allowing my sobs to calm until soon enough, my breathing is nothing but silent heaves.

My pattern remains unchanging. I stand up from wherever I'm at to gaze in front of a mirror.

I never look any different, either. Hair is bunched up snarls from my pulling at it; my face red and raw and tearstained and my eyes bloodshot and swollen.

Looking at myself always makes me want to start crying all over again. But I never do. I just stare.

But this was a time when the routine did not stay completely on course. Because this time, someone found me.

After Alice had guided me away from the bathroom mirror, she asked me if there was anything she could do.

I said yes.

And so, we went grocery shopping. The markets usually open at 7 am, I've timed it, and that's something that seems to stay relatively consistent wherever I go. She told me it was about time someone broke in the Cullen kitchen, and that Dr. Cullen would be more than pleased that I considered cooking among one of my few joys.

We shopped and shopped. We must have spent over three hundred dollars. Alice kept assuring me that it was okay, that since the fridge was hardly ever sufficiently stocked, we were there making up for it.

I cooked French toast, per Alice's request. I cooked, while she sat on a stool behind me, telling me about her life before she lived here. But there was not a hint of sadness to her. She seemed amazingly well adjusted. Of course, she didn't spare any specific details as to how she'd ended up at the Cullen's, and I didn't ask. I told her about some of my interests too; the cooking, the writing, the generalities of my music likes and dislikes. We skimmed around the surface; avoiding the finer details of our person and only acknowledging what made us happy.

And I liked that. I really did. I'd never met another girl I was so comfortable being around. Already, I considered Alice a friend.

I separated batches of French toast for everybody in the house. I wasn't trying to get them to like me; it's just what I'd always done at any house I'd ever lived at. I was the Cook Girl. It instilled a sense of normalcy in me, to be doing these things in the Cullen household.

I wasn't anticipating any sort of reaction. Dr. Cullen was the first to come down the stairs, and he nearly glowed with feverish excitement that someone had actually cooked. Or maybe he took it as a sign that I was adjusting. He devoured the plate I made for him quickly, with a luminous smile on his face.

Emmett was the next to enter the kitchen. "Hey, you must be New Girl!" he proclaimed with exultation, and then rushed over to my side once he caught wind of the smell of food. "Holy shit. Looks like New Girl can cook! "

"Her name is Bella, Emmett," Dr. Cullen said disapprovingly. Emmett just smiled and nodded in response.

And then Rosalie came down the stairs, and the entire atmosphere in the room changed.

I wasn't wrong. And I hated the fact that I knew I wouldn't be. But there she was: almost the exact definition of what a teenage supermodel would be. She wore tight black pants and a cropped pink top that left very little to the imagination. Her makeup was flawless, dramatic eyes and thick cherry stained lips; and all of a sudden, I was heartbroken. I felt utterly and completely shattered. And I wasn't sure exactly why.

"You must be Isabella," she said with the clear assurance of a girl who'd never encountered an individual she couldn't win over. "I'm Rosalie. And welcome to our home."

"Thanks," I stammered. "It's Bella, actually."

"Oh, yes, of course," she smiled, and she really was flawless. My heart ached.

I noted that wherever Rosalie moved, Emmett's eyes followed. I figured it was like that with any guy. But then I saw the way she looked at him, and her eyes were definitely flirting back. The girl screamed sex, and people just noticed. And she really fucking loved it.

She refused my breakfast, stating an avoidance to carbs or something. And I felt really tongue tied. Which is odd for me, because I'm usually able to defend myself quite well. Which in itself was another odd thought, because no one was attacking me, and yet I felt extremely defensive.

And then Edward came down to the kitchen and I finally understood why.

This girl was his girl. She screamed sex with him. And it made me want to fucking rip my hair out.

Alice had taken me into Dr. Cullen's office to find me some "extremely necessary" (as she called it) school supplies. We were just walking out when I saw him, his figure standing in the doorway of the kitchen. I squared my shoulders and walked toward him, trying to be confident that I had nothing to be insecure about.

"Did Alice leave to pick up Jasper without me?" he asked, and instinctually I responded.

"Nope," I said, and he whirled around to face me very quickly. I thought he was giving me the once over again, but he only seem to stare. His eyes were unreadable as he stared at me, and I couldn't decided whether or not I felt uncomfortable or grateful that he was sparing me some attention.

I felt so fucking stupid. I felt like such a fucking girl.

When Alice had given him the breakfast I'd made, he started the staring all over again. A warmth spread from my stomach out to my chest to my arms, and I knew my skin was getting flushed. I was suddenly embarrassed because I was afraid he would think that I had done all this to impress them, when it really wasn't the case at all. I was just trying to attain my sense of normalcy. Anyone would get that, wouldn't they?

We got to the car and Edward sat in the back. Alice started talking a mile a minute again; asking me about previous schools I'd attended and schoolmates and teachers.

And I was boiling. I felt so hot all over, and I could feel my heartbeat hitching, signaling another panic attack, which panicked me even further because there was no way I was ready to let Edward see that side of me. I rolled down the window; letting the cool air soothe me. It actually kind of worked. I focused on the air and the sound of Alice's voice and pretended that Edward Cullen was not sitting directly behind me.

While we were circling for parking at school, I allowed myself a glimpse at Edward from behind me, as I pretended to pick a piece of lint off my shoulder.

He took my breath away. It wasn't because he was beautiful, although he certainly was. His face was contorted as if in severe pain; his eyes tightly shut and his hands clenched into desperate fists. His expensive headphones were on, and I wondered if he were just really into the music, thinking maybe whatever song he was listening to must have been incredibly moving to have such a noticeable effect on him.

But as soon as we parked, Edward ripped his headphones from his ears and nearly sprinted from the car. My chest heaved and I was suddenly overwhelmed with the most intense feeling of dread; as if I very much had something to do with his frantic need to get away.

Alice didn't seem to think anything of it. She kept on talking, acting as if Edward had never been in the car in the first place.

If only I felt the same.

***

Either Sally was a genius or Dr. Cullen really did have some pull in this place. My class schedule was amazing. I finally allowed myself some sense of relief after the tumultuous morning I'd had. My first period was study hall, and I wandered the school library, fingering the assortment of books that were stocked. I found my hand resting on an Anne Sexton anthology, and I briefly considered picking it up, but then I made myself turn away.

She was my mother's favorite.

As I had picked up fresh batteries at the store this morning, I had my Walkman handy and it worked on placating my nerves as I continued up and down the library aisles. "Baby black black black is all you see … don't you want to be free …" I strummed the imaginary acoustic guitar in my mind and turned the next corner, only to have my breath stolen away from me.

Because there he was, sitting on the floor in a corner between two book shelves with his back against a window. He was writing in a notebook furiously; his knuckles white with pressure against the pen in his hand. And his face was just twisted up in all sorts of agony, as if whatever he was writing or whatever he was listening to through his headphones was causing him massive amounts of impenetrable despair. It was almost the same face he'd had in the car.

Before I could decide whether or not to approach him, he must have sensed me. His head moved up to my direction slowly, as if he didn't want to accept that I was standing before him. Part of me wanted to run. But my feet felt as if they were glued to the floor, and I was paralyzed. And I've never felt more fucking ridiculous in my life because I didn't even know this guy and I was pretty sure he didn't want to know me, but I couldn't move away from him. My will had fluttered and caved. He was there and therefore I had to be here. It was very simple.

It was very simple and was very much not me.

We remained staring at each other, which probably lasted all of 10 seconds. Then, without warning, I regained control of my limbs, and away I went, nearly knocking over a shelf of books with my bag. I flew out of the library and into the chill of the February air. I saw a bench to my left, pulled my headphones off of my ears and sat.

I was having a very hard time reckoning my reactions with myself. Was it just that I'd recently broken up with someone, or was it more? Was this not even about me in the least? Was it just about Edward specifically?

"Hey," said a quiet voice, and I looked up to see Edward standing above me. "Can I sit?"

"Uh, sure," I managed to reply. He probably thought I was crazy. I thought Dr. Cullen must have asked him to watch out for me.

My heart fluttered as he sat beside me, not too close, which I figured was a conscious effort on his part. His headphones were hanging from his neck, and his hands were clasped tightly on his knees. He breathed slowly out of his mouth, the way I often do to counter an approaching panic attack.

"I didn't figure I would have to tell you this," he said, looking at his fists. "I don't know what the hell it is. I don't even know you. But you just …" He looked at me then, his eyes unshielded with open curiosity. "You remind me of someone. A lot. And that's not easy for me to be around. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

My chin quivered against my will, and I nodded. "You can't be around me."

"Yeah," he said, still looking at me, though his eyes fluttered momentarily to my fucking chin, showcasing all of the emotions I wasn't even quite sure I had; all putting out what I didn't quite understand in an embarrassing display for Edward to witness. "Like I said, I don't know you, so it's not personal. So, sorry."

He stood with rash abruptness, and walked away from me. I sat, staring at my shaking hands, cursing my traitor chin, wondering how he could feel that way and it not be personal.

Because it really felt that way. It really felt fucking personal.

EPOV:

Well what the fuck was I supposed to do? After what felt like a torturous hour in the car smelling her and trying not to breathe, all I could do was just run the fuck away from it. I couldn't go to my first class; I was somehow afraid she'd be in it, and so I went to the only place at school I feel comfortable. My little sanctuary, if you will.

I sat in my spot that's pretty much hidden from direct view, and I turned on my music, and I had to listen to that song because it was all I could fucking think about.

And the crazy thing really was: my muse was still there from last night. It all came as naturally and as beautifully as it did before and there was no halt in my rhythm and no interruption to my pace.

I felt oddly free. My pen was skimming the paper so effortlessly and my breath was ragged and I kind of felt like dying but it was so fucking pure. I was awash in the muse.

And that's when it came again. The scent. Her scent; my mother's scent, it was all in the same. I knew she was there probably before she knew I was. I rose my head slowly, as if in avoidance of what I knew I'd already see.

But there stood Bella, and it was hard to pretend she wasn't there. Because we were just fucking staring at each other for what felt like forever before she turned and pretty much ran away. I thought she must know. She knew that I couldn't be around her.

But I felt like she deserved to know. It wasn't about her. I didn't know who the fuck she was. She wasn't anything to me. But this need to protect her that developed last night through Rosalie, it was still there. But this time it wasn't Rose I needed to protect Bella from. It was from me.

I was going to be an asshole. I was going to be a true and utter dipshit because there was no way I could be around her. There was no way I could be around her because I was just going to feel everything that I hadn't felt in so long. It had been nearly five years since I'd thought of my mother, at least thought of her like that. I couldn't be reminded of that time in my life.

So I would warn her. I would just fucking tell her, and then she would stay away, and I could go back to my routine and pretend as if she didn't exist.

I know there were some holes in my plan. Like … we lived together and shit. But I would do whatever it took. I would just tell her this one thing and just be done with it all.

So I did. I told her the truth: not a very characteristic move on my part. But what else could I say? You smell so fucking beautiful it makes me ache and want to cry and curl up like a baby? I don't think so.

I let myself absorb a bit of the flowers and spice to test myself as I sat next to her. But the ache just pulsated, shocking me with its violent and urgent capacity. I would not be free of this if she were around.

But I wasn't exactly prepared for the chin quivering deal. It took me off guard, and that ridiculous need to protect her flared up again. I wanted to rub that chin with the back of my thumb and soothe it back into stillness. Because it wasn't personal. She was just a girl. She had no idea what I'd been through.

There's no need to feel guilty, I kept telling myself. I've never been that social of a creature anyway, so being unable to interact with this person shouldn't be that alarming. In fact, it would be the most in character thing I'd done in the last 24 hours.

The bell for second period rang, and I breathed an anxious breath as I rounded the corner to head into my next class. Creative writing, and it was time to give a brief presentation of what I had done thus far into the semester. Of course, I'd done significantly more since yesterday's class, and I wondered if these new additions would excite or alarm Mr. Banner. It really didn't matter. It was the best work I'd done in forever. My creative high was still pulsing in my veins.

The desks in the classroom were arranged to form a U shape, with Mr. Banner's desk sitting at the opening front of the U. The desks were similar to tables and sat two people, but I always occupied my own desk. It was either a special privilege or just reminiscent of how frequently people avoid me. Whatever the case, all the other desks were filled, as the class was noted as a popular, even though half the people in this class couldn't write for shit.

But I liked Mr. Banner. He seemed to get me, and he wasn't a pushy dickhead either.

But that was all about to change. And it was of no fault of Mr. Banner's, really. Because Bella walked into the classroom, sheepishly holding a printed schedule in her hand and walking up to him with a hopeful sense of determination. She was excited for this class.

But she hadn't seen me yet.

I tried to keep myself centered, because I knew what would happen next. Mr. Banner would look at her schedule, smile at her, and then point at the only fucking empty seat in the classroom; the one next to me. And then Bella would look at the seat, realize me, and the hopeful look would be gone from her eyes, and instead replaced with a sense of dread. She would move slowly and without assurance, and the clock would tick incessantly as she did, and her eyes would be trained with careful focus on the empty chair. And then she would sit and her scent would knock me senseless.

It played out like clockwork.

A/N: Whew! Whaddya think? I swear this chapter just ran away with me. I initially wanted it to include the classroom scenario, but it'll be better played out in the next one, I believe. I'm being kind of evasive with some of E/B's backstory, and I hope that's not pissing any of you off. Just know that neither of them regularly thinks about the shit that's happened to them. They push it out of their minds. As in first person, we only get what they think. So please stay with me. :)

Again, thanks to the lovely reviewers, and also anyone who's recommended this story somewhere. ..

On that note: this will be my last update for about a week. I'm going on vacation, and I don't know if I'll have internet access, and I'll probably be too busy anyway. Checking out some grad schools in Oregon. Wish me luck?

Well, it's almost 3am and time for me to hit it. Have a great week, lovelies.