Woo, chapter 2! As I said, updates will be slow...especially since I really want to finish the rewriting thing before my finals start (coughMondaycough*) before getting too far into this. I also want to stay at least a chapter ahead at all times.

Major thanks to my beta, BohemianBuffalo. You definitely should go read her story, Parallels and Opposites.

I own nothing and I'm tired of saying it so this is it for the story.

2

"Doctor Cullen. Doctor Cullen to the E.R. please."

I sighed, pulled off the blood stained gloves and mask and went out the door. I was needed, yet again, to put on a fresh set of gloves, a new mask, and maybe even new scrubs and save somebody's life. My job was a highly rewarding one, but I'll be the first to admit, it does get old sometimes.

I moved to Port Angeles two years ago, just after finishing med school. I had graduated from Harvard Medical School when I was only 24, the youngest in my class, and for some reason every hospital in the country wanted me. But Port Angeles was a small city filled with young girls that was very close to a small town with many teen girls, most of them probably having issues like my sister, so I felt I had to go there.

I was born and raised in the Windy City. My parents, Esme and Carlisle, were the sweetest people in the world. Carlisle was a psychologist, and Esme was an interior decorator when she wasn't running some charity or another. They volunteered for everything possible, and were the kind of people that genuinely just wanted to help other people.

My sister Claudia was three years older than me, and looked nothing like me. She was petite and thin, like a ballerina in a way, to my tall and thick. She had the most pure, stick straight blonde hair, while mine was a curly copper mess. Her skin was like porcelain, yet mine was frequently tanned. She had sapphire eyes, I had emerald. Everyone always believed that I was older than her, and Claudia despised that. She hated even more that her friends thought I was attractive, and always wanted to come over to watch me study or do chores. She was a typical teen who always played her music too loud and disrespected her parents to be cool. She was also a gymnast and obsessed over it. She never wanted to gain an ounce and never wanted to quit. But she'd do anything to defy our parents.

The four of us had the picture perfect life. We lived in a small mansion in the heart of Chicago. Claudia and I were given everything we'd ever need. Sometimes I was overwhelmed by all they gave us. We both did well in school, her to continue gymnastics and me just for the sake of doing well. Every time we got a positive report card, we got a little gift to go with it.

We both had our own pets as well. I had my little Golden Retriever puppy, Samson, and my snake, Turner. Claudia had her little hamster, Fuzzball, and her cat, Ginger. An aquarium stood in the living room, filled with exotic fish. Our father was always there to tell us the type of fish and a few random facts nobody else would ever care about.

Our mom always packed us some spectacular lunch or another. None of that sandwich, apples, and juice box crap. Spaghetti, sometimes still warm, with hot chocolate, and three cupcakes to share with friends. Crab with melted butter, apple cider, and double fudge brownies. We were the kids getting gourmet meals most kids only dreamt of getting for dinner.

Our lives were blessed. My parents had well-paying jobs with a gorgeous house and two beautiful, intelligent kids. And the kids lived up to the standards others set for them with ease. What could ever go wrong in such a life? A broken nail?

Wrong.

When she was sixteen and I was thirteen, she snuck out of the house one night. Her new boyfriend, some twenty–year–old at the nearby college, would pick her up, and they'd drive as fast as they could while downing one beer after another. Until the accident.

He died on impact since he wasn't wearing a seatbelt. Claudia, fortunately, had worn her seatbelt, and got out with nothing more than a broken arm. But with a broken arm, she couldn't do any gymnastics until she was healed. And Claudia without gymnastics was no Claudia at all.

She ate her depression away. She gained a mere twenty pounds while her arm was broken, allowing her to finally be a normal weight for her size and age, but in her eyes she was now obese. That was when she stopped eating. None of us ever really noticed at first since she'd always had weird eating habits. She grew more hostile to us and more secretive, but that was it. Nothing too unusual for a teenager, my father would say.

She was back to gymnastics in just six weeks and things were perfectly normal. She still had her hostile attitude, but nothing my parents didn't expect to happen. She went to competitions and like normal did wonderfully at everything. How would we know something was wrong?

Two months back into gymnastics, Claudia was at the biggest competition of her life. If she did well, she would receive scholarship money for the school of her choosing. Then she would be able to compete again next year and hopefully earn the rest of the money needed for college. And then she fainted. She was rushed to the hospital, starved and with a dangerously low blood sugar level. The doctors told us she only weighed seventy pounds. For the next five months, this was the issue on the forefront of our minds. How had we let this happen? Why didn't we notice anything? Why didn't we stop her?

She finally managed to get up to ninety pounds, and while still underweight, Claudia was finally allowed back home. She began eating again and became happier and very excited for college. She was going to compete in the same competition she fainted at five months earlier and try to get scholarship money again. This time, she was lucky enough to make it through the competition and get the money.

We grew closer than ever, to the point where she was my best friend. I told her everything and she gave me the same privilege. We made sure to sit and talk for at least an hour a day, no matter how hectic our schedules were. As excited as I was for her to go to New York University, I was still upset to see her go.

Apparently, she was just as upset as I was. Without whispering any sort of hint to us, she fell into anorexia again. Claudia was determined not to gain the freshman fifteen and instead lost all the weight she'd gained since her trip to the hospital, plus some. Before Thanksgiving, she died of starvation.

Her body, when it arrived in Chicago, was nothing but skin and bones. And what skin there was no longer resembled a porcelain figurine with milky skin and flushed cheeks. She looked more like a paper now than anything else. I couldn't bear to look at her, and neither could my parents. At the funeral, the casket remained closed. We were now stuck with the image of an empty girl that resembled Claudia in looks, but could never be the real deal. No reason to force everyone else to suffer our fate.

I was only fifteen then, but I knew I couldn't let any other younger sibling, any other parents, any other family or friend, feel the pain we felt. Watching her coffin being lowered into the ground was the trigger that let me decide my fate. I would be a doctor, the best doctor there was. And I would save every possible person I could and wouldn't let a person with an eating disorder die in my hospital.

I graduated high school in the top twenty of my class and left to study medicine at Dartmouth where I worked my ass off. I couldn't save Claudia – she wouldn't let me close enough after she left, as well as the fact she was halfway across the country and I knew jack-shit about eating disorders. But just because I couldn't save my sister, didn't mean I couldn't save others. Not just from eating disorders, but from anything. But before I could do that, I had to graduate.

I took classes all through the summer and made sure to take as many classes as I could each semester, allowing me to graduate a year early from Dartmouth as well as a year early from Harvard med. I had all ready lost one life, no reason to let anymore go because I was too lazy to work hard.

Word of my hard work somehow spread to hospitals throughout the country and I was suddenly demanded to be everywhere. An attractive twenty-four-year-old doctor with an outstanding reputation was something everybody wanted to claim as their own.

I could've gone to Boston or New York City or Washington D.C. or even California, but I chose Port Angeles. No matter how many anorexic whores were in Hollywood, I wanted girls that really had issues. Not the ones that simply wanted attention. Maybe I hadn't studied to be a psychologist, but did that mean I couldn't connect with my patients on a more personal level?

"Doctor Cullen! There you are," a nurse cried with relief. "We have some twelve-year-old refusing to let anybody attend to him but you. He was brought in with some problems and has – "

"Leukemia? Must be Dexter. The boy will never let anybody besides me treat him. Just point me in the right direction," I chuckled. He was such a stubborn boy and I was certain he'd thrown a fit larger than anything this nurse could deal with.

She sighed, her shoulders slouching as she did so. "He's up in pediatrics now, you took so long. They'll tell you where to go from there." I smiled at the older woman with her graying hair and sweet face and headed for the elevators.

Now I was a bachelor, twenty six and living in a flat downtown. Despite being a doctor, I often had take-out and pizza, simply because I didn't know how to cook. I made up for it by jogging in the mornings I didn't work and walking to work on nice days. It was a simple life, but that was all I needed. Working in a hospital gave me all the drama and chaos I needed in a day. Why would I want to go home to more of it?

"Morning, Mary Anne. Can you tell me where Dexter is today?" I grinned at the young nurse at the desk. Her bleach blonde hair made her look like a cheap bimbo, but she was one of the kindest nurses on our staff and the only one my age that didn't flirt with me. She was happily married and a small bump under her dress made it clear her family was expanding.

"Room 212E today, Edward. He had quite the tantrum downstairs when Wilson tried to cover for you. May God bless your soul for being able to talk that boy into being treated properly," she drawled, letting her Tennessee roots show.

"Thanks, Mary," I called, all ready halfway down the hall. I heard her laugh follow me, but didn't allow myself to turn around.

I'd had a few girlfriends since moving to this rainy area. I even went on a date with Jessica Stanley, the biggest slut out of the nurses my age, and found myself gagging on cheap perfume by the end of the night. But I got closer than any other doctor here ever tried to. At least, the closest that didn't take his or her clothes off. Dating here just didn't seem to work for me and I was okay with that. I might as well establish a definite, steady future for myself before going there. And I certainly didn't need the commitment now, when I was still working crazy hours.

"Edward!" Dexter's eyes lit up as he saw me enter the room.

"Mornin', Dex. What seems to be the problem today?"

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