Important! While this is based on my life and the events that have taken place involving me, this is a Fanfiction and there will be fiction in the story. Not many people wanted to see a different POV, so I'm going to keep it a BPOV story, for now. I may change my mind, but I don't think I will. Enjoy!
Last time:
Before I can stop it, I'm hunched over my toilet, everything coming out of me. Alice rubs my back and holds my hair, just being here for me. A round of sobs rack my body and I slide to the floor, clutching my legs to me tightly.
"Don't let them get to you. You know they're lying, Isabella," Alice whispers soothingly and sits next to me on the floor. With that said, more tears spill out and my whole body shakes with the force of my sobs.
She's wrong. They aren't lying. Everything they have ever said is one hundred per cent true. I know it, and so does she. Oh, Mary Alice, why do you stick around? I wouldn't. You're just going to get hurt, I know you will. I can't let you get hurt. I won't let you.
Chapter seven.
Now:
Walking down the stairs, I self consciously tug at my sleeves. Renee bought me this stupid dress and told me that I have to wear it. Why? I don't know. She knows I don't wear dresses, but she insisted any way.
Don't get me wrong, the dress really is beautiful; it's just not me. It falls to just above my knees and is midnight blue. It has long sleeves and a deep neckline, showing off more cleavage than I find comfortable. It hugs me, making me look bigger than I am, if that's even possible. I have paired it with dark tights and blue flats, which just about match the color of the dress.
I let go of my sleeves and I smooth out the dress. I take in a deep breath and go into the living room. Charlie is sitting on the recliner, a bottle of beer in one hand and a fishing book in the other. Renee is in the other chair, knitting away; knitting is her hobby of the week. Emmett is on the love seat, playing some stupid video game.
"Happy Christmas," Renee cheers when I get to the bottom of the stairs. Her whole face is alight with joy. She smiles when she sees me in the dress. "I knew that would look beautiful on you," she gushes. I blush.
"Merry Christmas, Mom."
She comes over and wraps her arms around me. I hug her back, letting myself feel the loving feeling a hug is supposed to offer. When she lets go, she kisses my cheek and sits back down. I move to sit on the floor by her feet, but Charlie grabs my hand before I can.
"You look beautiful," he grunts and I smile timidly. He isn't one for emotions; I was lucky to get that. I manage to sit down now and Renee strokes my head once before continuing with her knitting. I watch the screen and see Emmett killing a load of people.
What is it, exactly? How can anyone get enjoyment from making a tiny cartoon run around and kill people? If anyone asked me, I would say its sick; disgusting, even. People blame parents for the bad behavior of children, when they really should look at all the games the children play. If I even have children, they won't be playing a silly game like this.
I stop that thought there. What am I thinking? I'm never going to have children. I'm going to die a virgin. The fat beast is destined to live and die alone. I can't always live with my parents. Soon, I am going to have to go to college and get a degree, then move away and get a good job that pays well.
I will live in a small, one-bedroom flat with some cats, or maybe a dog. I could even get a fish. Of course, I will come back to Forks every few months, just to show my parents that I am still alive. I would stay with them for a few days and listen to them about how well Emmett did for himself. He, of course, would have become a football star and married Rosalie. They would have beautiful blonde children and live happily in England, or somewhere. Rosalie wouldn't want to stay in America. She would want to get away, enjoy her life to the fullest.
"Grandma Swan is coming over for dinner.," Charlie grunts, not looking up from his magazine. Ah, no wonder Renee made me wear a dress. I nod and continue to watch the screen.
"Let's do gifts!" My mother is practically bouncing as she goes to the tree and hands out gifts. I smile and open all the presents I'm given. Renee and Charlie bought me books, and I didn't get anything from Emmett, not that I expected to. I'm kind of glad he didn't get me anything this year, I already have the four other diet books he gave me the past few years and I don't have any more room for another one.
I give them all their gifts and Emmett is surprised when I hand him a gift. Renee gushes about how beautiful the top is that I gave her and Charlie looks happy with his fishing gear. I don't watch Emmett when he opens his gift, but I do hear the quiet 'thank you' when he pulls out his CD's. I know that he wanted those because every time the commercial for the CD's came on, he would hint to Renee and Charlie. Of course, it went over their heads, but I caught it.
We clear away the used wrapping paper and sit down again. I open one of the books Renee bought me and read the first few chapters, getting lost in it. This is the second in a series that I have gotten into. The books are really amazing and I can only hope to be able to write like this.
The door bell rings and I see Charlie look at me from the corner of his eyes. I guess I'm getting the door. I get up with a roll of my eyes and put on a smile, open the door, and look over my grandmother. The years haven't changed her much. Her dark hair is now striped with grey and her face has a few wrinkles, but she still looks younger than her years. Her dark eyes stare back at me, but they're colder than I remember.
"Hey, Grandma," I greet, holding open the door so she can get past.
"Hello, Isabella. You're bigger since I last saw you," she mutters, hanging her coat on the coat hook.
"We haven't seen you in a few years, I have gotten taller," I admit and shrug a little. My cheeks heat up and I look to her and see her eyes roaming over my body, no smile on her usually warm face.
"No, that's not it. You've gotten fat," she nods, proud of herself that she worked it out. My breath rushes out in shock and I look at her, wide eyed. Is she serious?
I swallow and close the door as she trots into the living room and plunks herself on the couch. The rest greet her and she is all smiles for them. The only person she is a little cold with is Renee, but there has always been some bitterness between the two of them.
I walk slowly into the living room and sit on the floor, just in front of my mother's feet, where I was before. I feel her hands running through my hair again and I smile.
"Isabella, will you help me with the dinner, please?" she whispers. I nod and stand, starting to follow Renee into the kitchen.
"Better make yours a salad." Grandma Swan smiles and pats my stomach as I walk past. I freeze, but then clear my throat and continue to the kitchen.
I help my mother by cutting vegetables and doing other things that she needs help with. Eventually, I set the table, putting myself opposite my grandmother. She and Renee don't get along, Emmett won't sit there, and Charlie is at the head of the table, so it leaves me.
Renee soon calls us all to dinner and I sit, sipping my water and smiling at my grandma as she watches me. All the amazing smells coming from the kitchen make my mouth water, and I dig in after Grandma has said grace and everyone has their dinner.
I try not to look up all through dinner, but I can feel the burn of my grandma's gaze as I eat.
"Why are you looking at her like that?" Renee hisses and I look up to see her staring at my Grandma. I glance at her and, sure enough, she looks disgusted.
"I told you, Charles," she mutters and sips her water.
"Yes, Mother." He sounds bored as he continues to eat, not even bothering to look up at her.
"You told him what?" The venom in my mother's voice is quite frightening, but I try not to think about it too much.
"That if he married you, he would have fat children. Just like our Isabella here." Her hand points to me and her voice leaves no room for arguing.
"Leave her alone, Marie. Isabella is fine," Renee hisses and Charlie finally looks up.
My appetite suddenly leaves me and I put my cutlery down. My own grandmother thinks that of me? I could deal with everyone at school thinking it, but not her. She's family. She isn't supposed to judge me and say hurtful things.
"It's your fault she's fat, Renee. I hope you know that. If she was my daughter, I would have had her on a diet years ago," Grandma states and Emmett snickers, still shoveling food into his mouth.
My heart sinks some more and I blink back tears. Oh, believe me, Grandma; I've tried every diet out there. They don't work.
"She would be skinny and beautiful and married to a young, rich man, if I had my way. You could come and live with me, Isabella, if you wanted to. We can shift some of this weight." She pats my hand over the table and I retract it like she burnt me.
"Excuse me." My voice is nothing but a squeak as I push away from the table and leave the room, my tears now falling. As soon as I know they can't see me anymore, I'm running. I run out of the house and down the street, not even sure of where I'm going.
I keep running, even though my breath is coming out in pants. The wind and the rain are making my ponytail swing and tangle, but I don't stop to sort it out. My heart and my head are pounding, but the wind feels refreshing on my flushed face.
Why do I always run away from my problems? I always do. I feel uncomfortable, even if only for a second and I run, like the coward I am. I run like the stupid, immature little girl everyone sees me as. I'm a runner, that's what I am.
A bitter laugh leaves my lips at the last thought. If I was a runner, I would be fit and healthy, not fat. Maybe I should take up running. Not outside, of course, I couldn't deal with people watching me run. I couldn't live with myself if everyone saw all of my fat bouncing around. But maybe, I could ask Emmett if I could use his treadmill. And if he doesn't let me use his, I could take the bus to Port Angeles three times a week. No-one I know would be there, so it would be safe.
I stop running and put my hands on my knees, taking in deep gulps of air. I really need to get fit. When I have somewhat caught my breath, I look up and groan when I realize where I am. Of course my body would bring me here. I stand up straight and walk towards the building.
Someone is inside, that much is clear; but who? The old building is dark with no lights except for a fire on the ground floor towards the back. The windows have long since gone and the grass in front of it has over grown and died. The inside is covered in dust and the whole scene gives of an eerie feeling.
I slowly walk towards the building, looking through the windows to see who could be inside. No-one sane goes to this place, as it is likely to fall down, ; but one group of people hang out here, Emmett and his friends. I know going in is completely moronic of me, but I don't care right now.
To be honest, I'm kind of hoping Rosalie and Tanya are in there. If they were to beat me up again, I could maybe pass out and forget about today, or feel the physical pain and not the emotional. I don't know, I just want something else to happen to me right now.
Thinking back, this is the place I used to come to meet Richard. Like I said, no-one sane would even think about coming here, so we knew we would have some privacy. Emmett and his friends found this place sometime last year and I couldn't face coming back here anyway.
I push the front door open and walk through the old hallways, taking everything in. If it wasn't for the dust and the obvious aging, this place would look like it's still being used. Old pictures still line the walls and the wooden flooring is still its dark mahogany under the dust.
"Hello?" A male voice slurs out and I look up to see Edward sitting there by the fire, with what looks like a joint between his lips and a bottle of beer on the floor by his feet.
"Oh, sorry. I didn't think anyone was here. I'll leave," I sniff out. I hadn't realized I was still crying until I taste the salty liquid on my tongue.
"Isabella? Is that you?" He stands up and sways over to me, taking the joint out of his lips. I can smell the foul scent of weed in the air, mixing with the smoke and the smell that is just plainly him.
"Yeah, I'm sorry. I'll leave," I repeat and turn to go.
"No, wait." I pause and turn slightly so I can see him out the corner of my eye. If he is going to attack, I want to see it happen, so I can prepare myself. "You can stay. If you like." As if to prove his point, he gestures for me to go over to the fire. I walk over and sit on one of the plastic crates that are lined up on the floor. He returns to where he was before, about three crates away from me.
We sit in silence for a while, but it isn't awkward. He continues to smoke and drink and I watch the flames, tears silently streaming down my cheeks. I don't wipe my tears away, not seeing why I should. Edward is so smashed he probably won't remember that I was even here.
I chance a glance over at him and he offers me the joint. I frown and shake my head, not seeing how drugs could possible help anything right now. If I were to take it, and he did remember, he would probably tell everyone I was a druggie. Right now, I couldn't care less. He can tell the world I have seventeen children and live in a crack house for all I care.
"What brings you out here?"
I look up from my lap and over into his red rimmed, emerald eyes. If I don't tell him, Emmett will. He will probably give all of them all the edited version, of course. I shrug and look away again, fiddling with my hands in my lap.
"Esme flipped out on me. She found my stash of weed. I snatched it back and ran away." He snorts and I finally wipe away the tears on my cheeks. It's pointless because they get replaced seconds later, but I know I did it. "I am burning the evidence as we speak." He laughs.
His laugh is amazing, like honey. I can feel it melting away all of my hurt and anger, making me feel normal again.
"My grandma told me how fat I was," I finally admit and his laughter stops. "I mean, it's not like I don't know. I see the same things that everyone else does. I look in the mirror everyday and feel nothing but disgust towards myself. I want to change, I really do, but I can't. I have tried everything legal, but nothing helps.
"I could jog everyday and nothing would change. I've starved myself and I thought I did well, but it didn't change the way I look. I have thought of everything, you know? I used to have dreams about cutting my stomach off and I wanted nothing more than to do just that. Get a knife and cut away all my problems. I wouldn't even go to the hospital; I would do it myself with a butcher's knife.
"I don't want to be like this. I don't want my grandma to be ashamed of me. I want to be like everyone else. I want to be beautiful, and I want guys to want me. I want to feel loved by someone other than my parents, and I want my brother to love me again."
I stop babbling and break down, tears coming out of my eyes in rivers and sobs leaving my lips. My whole body shakes and I clutch my face in my hands, wishing it would all end. My heart hurts, but it feels strangely good to let it all out to another person. Sure, I will regret it; but for right now, I feel better than I have in a long time.
I jump in shock and fall off the crate when I feel Edward's arm on my shoulder. My eyes look at him in fright, but he looks back at me, his face mirroring mine. Why would he be scared? He has nothing to be afraid of. Making sure I can still see him, he walks around the crate and sits next to me on the floor.
"I'm sorry, you know. I never wanted you to feel like this." He takes a swig out of his bottle and offers it to me. I surprise both him and myself when I take it and finish it in one go.
"Sorry." I blush, handing him back the empty bottle. He chuckles and shakes his head.
"It's okay. I have more." He points over to a box full of beer. I nod and he gets up, grabbing the box and bringing it back over to us. He hands me another one and I open it, thanking him before taking a swig.
My tears soon stop and I watch the fire, drinking the warm beer and enjoying the silence. Edward doesn't try and make conversation, but just watches the fire, much like myself.
"Merry Christmas, Isabella," he mutters, holding out his bottle. I clink my bottle with his.
"Merry Christmas, Edward."
Thank you guys for my amazing reviews. They always make me smile, no matter my mood.
I have decided that I am changing my update day. Instead of Monday, I am just going to update when I can. I am sorry, but I don't always have a chapter ready by Mondays.
I have Twitter, the link is on my profile and I do follow backs.
Also, a huge thank you to my BETA, you are amazing.
Thanks for reading and please review?
Twi-girl09
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