I own nothing Twilight.

Chapter 6 - Ana's Song

"Come on Bella, please."

"I don't know."

"Please?"

"I'll have to ask my parents. . ."

She sticks her lip out, pouting. Despite her fairy-like stature, Alice has a way of convincing anyone to do anything. Like to go to a party thrown by Tanya Denali.

I haven't done anything remotely age-appropriate since I began dating Jacob. Not because he doesn't want me to, but I figure Jacob + alcohol + my friends wouldn't be a situation I would want to willingly place myself in. The less I hung out with my friends, the bigger the void became in my life. Between who I once was and who I am now.

"I've never been to a high school party before," she whines.

I just look at her, from my place at the head of my bed. She was leaning back in my desk chair, flipping through Cosmopolitan.

"You're telling me you've never been to a high school party before? I don't buy that for one second," I roll my eyes.

"Okay, I've never been to a Forks high school party," she says. "It's different than a Chicago high school party."

"How so?"

"Well in Chicago, it's all about who's wearing what, what venue you score for the party, what band you get to perform," she starts. "Here it's. . ."

"Who can get the drunkest and have the most sex?" I finish for her.

She just laughs at me, shaking her head. Over the past two weeks, Alice has slowly been weaseling her way into my life in one way or another. She would randomly show up in the evening to watch Jeopardy with my parents. Or tag along on car rides with me and Jacob. I don't know if she's just trying to get out of her house (to not have to deal with Edward, I assume) or if this was just who she was.

"Come on," she was pleading now. "It'll be so much fun. We can get ready together at my house, I'll even let you borrow an outfit!"

I don't have the heart to tell her that A.) I doubt any of her clothes would actually fit me and B.) there was no way in hell I would ever reveal that much skin. I could maybe pull off short sleeves, depending on what the status of my arms was that day. It has been several days since anything has happened with Jacob, as Alice is seemingly joined to our hips.

Initially, I wasn't sure how he would react to her: she's loud, she appears to have little regard for other people's personal space and never apologizes for anything. Even when she accidentally spilled her Coke on his lap. I had waited for the rage to appear, for the tightening of his fist, but it never came. He had laughed. Actually laughed, as if it were no big deal.

And then I remembered: this is the Jacob the rest of the world knows. Charming, funny and easygoing. I forgot how he could be around everyone else.

"I'm not sure," I hesitate. "I think I might be doing something with Jacob that night."

The party is tomorrow, Friday, and Fridays are typically spent with Jacob on the Reservation. It's sort of an unspoken agreement we have and I never dare question it.

She just waves her hand, dismissively, saying, "I'll deal with that."

My heart starts pounding a little. I didn't like this. The possibility of her nagging Jacob on my behalf, there was no way that would end well.

"Please don't," I respond sharply.

She looks at me confused, looking at me like I've suddenly grown a second head.

"I just mean," I continue. "I'll be talking to him on the phone later tonight and I'll just do it then."

She smiles and I relax, mission accomplished.

"Okay, but promise me you'll ask him. Don't forget," she says as she stands, collecting her things.

I glance at the clock. 9 p.m.

Jacob will be calling at 9:30. He always calls at 9:30.

"I won't, I promise."

I walk her downstairs, where she hugs my mom and dad. Even they love Alice, her optimism is so contagious. Well, that or they are just glad that I have someone other than Jacob over for the first time in months. I think they're beginning to suspect I'm some sort of loser with no friends, who only makes time for her boyfriend and doesn't do anything without him.

Oh wait, that is me.

"By Bella," Alice waves as she makes her way down the porch steps "Don't forget to ask him!"

I just nod as I shut the door behind her, saying goodnight to my parents before I head towards the bathroom for a shower. I strip out of my jeans and pull my sweater over my head, throwing them both on the floor. The water feels incredible as it hits my skin, the water so hot I feel like it's washing everything off me.

Every bruise, every hit, every tear, every yell.

I run the loofa over myself, scrubbing all the pain away. I can feel my ribcage beneath my fingertips, the bones protruding out, unnaturally.

How can Jacob find me attractive? I'm nothing. I'm skin and bones and cuts.

I wonder, sometimes, how much longer it will be until I become so small, I'm invisible. No one at school really notices me much anymore, my popularity long gone. The popularity that I had spent years developing, worrying about my looks, my image. Years and years of caring destroyed by just months of not caring.

I step out of the shower, placing my foot carefully on the slip-resistant bathmat. My parents had gone into Port Angeles to a Bed, Bath & Beyond a few weeks ago to purchase a special rug with grip support on the bottom. They were worried about my constant tumbles and run-ins with the tiled floor.

"You are the only person in the entire world who could slip and fall that many times in the same exact spot," dad had said.

"The neighbors are beginning to think we beat you or something," mom had joined in, laughing. "What, with all those bruises."

I wonder what my face had looked like in that moment. That was the moment I had wanted to tell them. To look them straight in the eyes and say the marks weren't from repeatedly falling on the bathroom floor. They were from repeatedly falling into Jacob's fist.

Instead I laughed, all the while knowing I would have to come up with yet another excuse for any future bruises now that I had been robbed of that one.

Friday finally arrives and by the time it's here, I'm on the cusp of a nervous breakdown. Jacob tells me to go with Alice to the party and he'll meet me there after some tribe thing. I had been banking on him not wanting to go, thus giving me an out.

"We haven't really hung out with your friends in a while," he had said. It'll be fun."

I think we have different versions of fun, but I don't say this. Instead I agree, finding myself once again on the Cullen's front porch. Having successfully avoided the hateful glares of Edward for the past week, I am not looking forward to a possible run-in.

Emmett has, in just three short weeks, somehow managed to become the most popular guy at school. I can see why, he is a lot like Alice. Carefree, fun. He just seems to attract people-in the same way that Jacob does. Although, even having been around him only a handful of times, I could never imagine him every raising his hand to anyone. Man or woman. And if he ever did, Esme and Carlisle would have him pinned to the ground before he could even start to swing his fist.

I wonder how different Jacob would be if his mother had never left. If his father wasn't a drunken asshole. Would I have still fallen in love with him? Would I not have to wake up, every morning, sore and already exhausted? Would I not have to live with the knowledge of knowing I would never live to see my high school graduation?

"Bella!" Emmett opens the door suddenly, picking me up into a hug.

I bite my lip to keep from yelping, pasting what I hope looks like a genuine smile on my face.

"Hey Emmett, look at you," I say, taking in his appearance.

He's dressed in dark, faded jeans and a maroon waffled shirt. I don't recognize his cologne, but it smells like woods and earth and safety. It smells like someone bottled Emmett.

"Yeah, you know, I thought I'd class it up a bit tonight," he does a twirl, causing me to burst out laughing. "Got to let the ladies of Forks check out the merchandise."

His hair is styled in its usual manner, dark and with every strand in place. He smiles big, his whole face lighting up. He looks so much like Alice, I want to finally ask if they're really related but figure that would probably be incredibly rude of me.

"Are you coming with us?" I ask.

"Nah," he starts. "I mean, I'll be there, but I'm riding with Edward. He told Tanya he'd pick up some booze since he has a fake ID."

I nod, inwardly cringing at the mention of Edward. Tanya has already managed to dig her claws in him, clinging onto him whenever possible. Where Emmett is outgoing and personable, Edward is introverted and rude. He talks back to teachers, when he decides to show up for class, that is. He never has anything nice to say about anyone. He is, quite simply, a colossal jerk. Naturally, the girls of Forks High love him. Worship the ground he walks on. He is the new resident bad boy.

"That is, if he ever decides to leave his bathroom," Emmett yells up the stairs. "I swear, he spends more time on his hair than anyone I've ever met-chicks included-and it still manages to look like he just rolled out of bed."

"Maybe that's the point," I add.

At that moment, Alice comes bounding down the stairs. Wearing a short, bright blue skirt and black bootie heels, her legs look about ten times longer than they actually are. Her black tank top is tucked into the skirt and she's managed to create an ample amount of cleavage. Makeup? Magic? WonderBra?

"Bella!" she squeals.

This family is really into hugs, as I quickly learned. Never a handshake, never just a simple 'hey.'

"And you're wearing what appears to be a hooded sweatshirt," she eyes me, unapproval evident on her face. "Yeah, that's not going to work."

"Alice, this is Forks, not Fashion Week," I say, suddenly uncomfortable with my wardrobe choice. "This will be fine, trust me."

"Bella, I cannot walk into that party next to you dressed like that," she huffs.

"That's my cue," Emmett interrupts. "I like to excuse myself from any type of girly conversation before the word 'tampon' is brought up."

"Menstrual cramps," Alice teases. "Maxi pads."

"Oh, god," Emmett plugs his ears, running up the stairs.

"Vagina!" she yells at him.

I laugh, conscious of how easy and comfortable they are around each other. I'm so curious about the Cullen family but I still haven't worked up the courage to ask Alice the questions that everyone in town is wondering.

"Come on," she says, pulling my arm. "Lets go dig through my closet."

I groan, but follow her upstairs. To say that Alice's closet is big would be an understatement. I once hard that Mariah Carey had an entire floor dedicated to her wardrobe. . .Alice's could easily challenge it. There's an entire wall filled with nothing but shoes and another to purses. There was Gucci and Coach and Prada.

Oh my.

"Lets see," she disappears somewhere in a rack of tops.

I busy myself looking around her room. Which is about the size of the entire top floor of my house. A picture on shelf in the corner of the room catches my eye and I make my way over to it. It's Emmett, Alice and Edward dressed in bathing suits, posing on the dock of the Lake Mansion. The trees in the background are the same. The buoy just off the shore is the same.

Emmett, Alice and Edward, however, appear to be around eight years old.

"Ta-da!" Alice's voice rings behind me, startling me and causing me to nearly drop the picture.

I quickly place the frame back on the shelf and turn just in time for Alice to look up from the clothes she's set out on the bed for me.

"This color is going to look great on you," she holds up an orange tunic top, with a matching ribbon belt across the middle.

"I don't think I've ever worn orange in my life," I reply.

"There's a first time for everything," she answers, holding the clothes out to me.

"There's no way I'm fitting into those jeans," I point to the skinny jeans she has picked out for me, grimacing at the thought of even trying to squeeze my ass into them.

"Please," she groans. "We'll be lucky if these aren't baggy on you. You weigh like, ninety pounds."

I just stare at her with a look that says, please don't make me do this.

Alice doesn't budge. I'm quickly learning that she always gets her way, which could explain a lot about her personality. It could also explain her Mariah Carey closet.

"Just this once," she begs. "Don't you want to look hot for Jacob?"

That gets me. I haven't really made an effort in my appearance in a long time, focusing on covering the evidence of abuse over the whole "looking cute in my clothes" aspect.

I eye the blouse she's holding. The sleeves are three-quarter length, it would hide any bruises that were still on my arms. The only thing I am hesitating on is the v-neck. . .it's not like I have any cleavage to speak of, but I'm more afraid of having a bruise on my collar bone or neck that I'm unaware of.

It couldn't hurt to at least try it on, I tell myself.

"Alright," I reach for the clothes. "I will try them on and see how ridiculous they look."

She jumps up and down. I've never seen someone so excited over an outfit before, let alone one they weren't even going to be wearing themselves.

"Okay, awesome," she claps. "You try it on, I'm going to go see if mom has any earring that'll match."

I silently thank her for allowing me to change by myself. I was going to have to pull some MacGyver-like moves to put the clothes on with her seeing as little skin as possible.

"Be right back," she exits the room, shutting the door behind her.

I let my own baggy jeans fall to the floor, and shrug out of the sweatshirt and t-shirt I had been wearing. I feel very awkward, standing here in my underwear in someone else's room. I quickly pull on the pants, surprised by how easily they slide on. I had expected to have to put up a fight, involving the ever-popular 'lying on the bed, sucking in, and attempting to button' maneuver.

I walk over to Alice's full-length mirror, just next to her dresser. The top is truly a work of art and probably costs more than all of my tops combined. I hold it against me, shivering as a draft hits my naked back.

Alice was right, the color does look good against my skin. The contrast with my dark hair stunning, almost.

"Alice, I swear to God, if I have to tell you one more time not to use my hairbrush-"

The door to the bedroom flies opens suddenly. I stand there, with my back to him. Hoping I'm imagining it. Wishing it's all in my head and that my distaste for him is so strong that, for some reason, it has made me begin hallucinating him into awkward moments of my life.

I turn my head slowly, holding the top against my front tightly. The last thing I ever want is to give Edward Cullen the satisfaction of catching a glimpse of my rack.

We make eye contact, his mouth hanging open slightly in a perfect 'O'. I turn my head back to the mirror, feeling my cheeks burn.

"I'm. . I'm sorry," he stutters, slowly backing out of the room.

There's a ten second period of silence. Edward Cullen, speechless. Imagine that.

I glance back at him and there it is again, that look that I don't understand. The look that makes it appear as though something is snapping inside him.

Disgust, I assume.

"Sorry," he says again, slamming the door shut behind me.

I release the breath I didn't even realize I was holding. I turn around, so my back is facing the mirror. I look.

And there, in a completely abstract fashion, are five bruises ranging in shape and color. Almost glowing against my pale skin.

"Fuck," I whisper.

Party will take place in next chapter, which will be up within the next few days. Edward will begin appearing more too, I promise.

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