Hello Awesome Fans!

So, this is our latest project - it's a bit a suprise, not just to you either, we didn't have the idea 'till last night! Anyway, we've been typing like nutters to get it up - i think i have carpal tunnel :D

So - It's a bit more... angsty than our usual, but I hope you all like it :D We'll try and update as often as we can!

Please Review! If we don't get enough, we probably won't continue, so tell us if you want more!

Ly x

Emily & Lucy

P.S Tune - Death Cab For Cutie - Marching Bands Of New York (Emily's choice - I am OBSESSED)


Emmett McCarty

Beijing

August 2008

I sat in the waiting room, sweat running down my back, and not just from the heat. This was it. I'd blown it. Three years of hard work, down the shitter.

Why was I so stupid. I knew something like this would happen sooner or later.

As a world weight lifting champion, I was pretty much living the dream life, y'know. Parties, girls, cars, but mostly training.

The training was tough, but that didn't bother me, I enjoyed it. It gave me the opportunity to do things like this. I had arrived just last week in Beijing for the 2008 Olympics. This was supposed to be my big shot, my chance to break not just the Olympic record, but the world record too.

I tried to breathe, come on, I told myself, you're young, you'll bounce back. But the assurances had little effect.

This was my fault, no-one else's, I'd been so fucking stupid. The first night I arrived here, I headed straight into the city to check out the local nightlife, stopping at the first bar I found.

It was a pretty small bar, considering how many people were in it… I grabbed a beer and sat down near to the window, I wasn't there long when two Chinese girls came over and dragged me onto the dance floor.

Of course, being me, I didn't object, so I left my drink on the table, and followed them.

I got back to the table ten minutes later, sweating like a pig and out of breathe and like the idiot I am, I downed the rest of the glass and ordered another.

It wasn't until I was stumbling home two hours later, that I even realised there may have been something in my drink.

But that's not even the best part. The best part was the next morning when the coach woke me up and told me to head downstairs for my drugs test.

And now, three days later, here I was, sat sweating over the frigging results like a complete moron.

I looked around, all the other athletes were sat, chatting excitedly and hyping up for the full day of training they had ahead of them.

Suddenly a nurse stepped into the room, "Mr McCarty?" She called out with a grave look on her face.

Shit.

I followed her slowly into the small treatment room. It was pretty crowded, between her, my coach, the doctor and… oh double shit, the head of the American Olympic team, I could barely fit.

Coach Clapp spoke first, "You know why you're here don't you?" He asked.

I nodded.

"Well, then I guess there's nothing more to say, you tested positive for Ecstasy, you're out of the team. We'll have flights arranged to take you home." He said, he looked almost as upset as I was, I guess I was his big hope, his one shot at gold…

I turned and headed out of the room, then out onto the street. Unsure of what to do next, I turned away from the building, the stadium, my dreams, and I ran.


Rosalie Hale

New York

February 2008

"Rosalie, darling, Max is ready!" Susan called from the main studio.

I stood up sighing, and dropped the silky robe onto the floor. I stepped out of the wardrobe department, and onto the shoot.

This shoot was for my biggest contract; MiuMiu. It was for the next edition of Vogue, and it was going on the first two pages.

My stomach did a flip as I remembered this.

Everyone thought I lived the perfect life; Rosalie Hale, gorgeous supermodel and socialite.

I let out a bitter laugh, not even caring about the others staring at me, as I contemplated this. I did not have a perfect life.

I had the hardest fucking life out of everyone I knew. Sure, Susan my agent bitched about her husband and her kids and having to get up early, but she actually had everything she wanted. She wanted kids, she had two of the little shits, she had an oh so perfect husband, a gorgeous house with a garden in Westchester… two perfect little puppies that her perfect husband walked every perfect fucking day.

I sighed.

Then I was pulled abruptly from my thoughts as Max entered the room, pompous ass. I hated working with him, he was a notorious self-esteem killer. "Hale, get ready. Now." He shouted at me, grabbing a Starbucks cappuccino from one of his plastic bitches and heading to the camera.

Sighing once more I stepped in front of the camera.

"Well, Ms Hale, congratulations!" Max said.

I looked at him confused.

He laughed, so did his little harem.

"You know!" A little blonde one laughed, I think her name was Jane, she was small enough to be a ten year old, "You don't have to lie."

"I don't know what you're talking about." I said, my voice shaking.

"You mean, you're not pregnant?!" he asked, laughing still.

I looked down, willing myself not to cry, but feeling defeat as moisture pricked my eyes.

"Oh Darling! So sorry! I guess you just had one too many mince pies over the holidays huh?" He asked, maliciously.

The tears began to flow freely now, streaming down my face. I was too sensitive for this job. Don't let them see you cry.

I didn't know what to do. I certainly couldn't stop the water works now the were in full swing, so I did the only thing I knew how… I ran.


Edward Masen

Chicago

July 2008

I'm not a patient man, I never have been. Probably never will be. And that day was no exception.

I sat there, looking around me, just trying to understand how I'd gotten to this… place. The courtroom was filled with family and friends, no of whom actually cared about the situation, they just wanted the fucking gossip.

I felt the rage building in me, and had to count to ten in order to stop myself from loosing what little grip I had left on my mind.

"So," The judge began, "The jury have made a decision."

I sucked in a breath.

"Mr Cullen, you were tried with drink driving and manslaughter," I stared at my shoes in shame, "And the jury finds you… guilty. You will return next Wednesday for sentencing, until then, you are placed in the custody of the Chicago State police department."

I jumped up and punched my fist in the air, "Yes!" I screamed.

People around me were all staring but I didn't care.

I stood behind the gates glaring triumphantly as two burly policemen dragged my father away.

He gave me one last pleading look and I shouted over to him, "Don't look at me like that. You killed my mother. I hope you rot in hell!"

He shook his head, and a single tear fell down his aging cheek, yet I could feel no remorse for the man who had destroyed my family.

I sighed in relief and turned to the doors of the courthouse.

As I stepped out into the August sunlight, I felt a sudden wave of depression sweep over me.

Where did I go now? Home? No, I didn't have a home anymore.

So, I turned away from the sun, and just ran.


Isabella Swan

Los Angeles

May 2008

I got in at about seven that night, just like any other, dropping my bags in the hall and headed into the kitchen.

Not to cook, god no. As if I had time for that any more, I wish. I pulled open the most used draw in the house and pulled out the first menu I put my hands on, Thai.

Well, that sounded good to me. I headed into the sitting room, towards the phone, planning to call Jake and check what he wanted. I was surprised he hadn't made it home yet.

Just as I was about to pick up the phone it started to ring. I smiled, that was probably him, we always had been on the same wavelength.

I picked it up, "Hey!" I said cheerfully.

"Ms Swan?" Came a serious voice, "Is that you? It's about Jacob Black. This is LA general Hospital."

"Yes. It's me." I replied weakly.

"I'm afraid there was an accident. Jacob… died." He finished.

I dropped the menu.

Jacob was dead.

Jacob Black was dead.

My Jacob Black was dead.

"I'm coming." I said, and threw the phone down.

Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.

The word ran through my head like a broken record. How? I spoke to him two hours ago… I saw him this morning.

I grabbed my bag in the hall and flung open the front door, only to be greeted by thirty or so reporters.

"Ms Swan! Ms Swan! How does it feel to loose a lover?"

"Ms Swan! When did you find out that Jacob Black had been shot?"

"Ms Swan! Isabella! Now that Jacob's gone, does this clear the way for you to continue your on-screen relationship with a certain Michael Newton?"

The were all shouting at me at once, so I did the only thing I could think of – I ran.


Mary Alice Brandon

Alaska

March 2008

I held the matchbox close to my chest, and in one long stroke, a burning flame erupted from the end of the short match.

I dropped the box onto the frozen ground next to me, and used my now freed hand to shelter the small blaze from the icy wind with my frail body.

I stared into it, deep into the flame, picking apart each separate colour with my eyes, coming right down to the royal blue in the middle.

The flame burnt lower and lower on the splint, until it was lightly scorching my fingertips. I never even felt the pain. I was long since numb.

I took a step backwards, and inclined my arm. Everything from then onwards moved in slow motion.

The match flew outwards, towards the ugly, barbed wired gates of the hell that had imprisoned me for so long; landed onto the pool of clear liquid I had covered the courtyard in, and instantaneously exploded.

The heat from the blaze was almost hurtful, but I made no attempt to retreat. I embraced the pain.

As the flames danced around, licking and engorging the buildings like a monster on a rampage. I looked deeply into the wild beast, and saw things I didn't want to see.

"You're a freak, Mary, a freak! To this day I never know what sins I committed for god to punish me so heavily which such a monstrous child. All you had to do was stand still for five minutes in front of the photographer, but no! You had to voice your crazy lies in front of the whole world!"

"This is the last straw Mary. You've humiliated me time and time again, because of your stupid fantasies! Did anyone die in a house fire? NO! I've had enough, this has gone too far."

"You're dead to me child. You don't even bear the dignity to be named after your ancestors. From this day onwards, there is no Mary Alice Brandon…"

Tears streaked down my face in remorse. Not for my mother, but for the life I had lost, for my own stupid mind.

Why did I have to be such a freak? Why did I have to dream about the most realistic things, the future, even, when I was powerless to stop it?

I screamed loudly in frustration, anger, and pain.

It was my entire fault.

I noticed a glowing branch, fallen from a tree near my foot, that had caught alight with the rest of the institute.

I reached out for it, and didn't even wince as the heat burnt my palm.

I just stood there, over looking the destruction I had caused, and continued to scar myself.

Again.

In the distance, I heard the blare of a fire engine siren, and the shouts of voices.

I had nowhere left to go, nothing left to do.

So I ran.


Jasper Whitlock

Seattle

September 2008

"So, Mr Whitlock, we've reviewed your file. We think you're very suitable for the job, we just have a few… issues, as I'm sure you'll expect." He said, studying me across the desk.

"Naturally." I nodded, I'd known this was coming, the guy had been building up to it all night, he was such a tool.

"Can you tell me about your gang involvement please, Mr Whitlock." He was nervous, I had an instinct about that, when it came to emotions, I usually did.

"Sir, that was a long time ago. I don't like to talk about it, but I can assure you that it was a life changing experience which will never be repeated. I think it helps me to identify with clients on a more personal level, in fact, It inspired me to go into psychology." I answered, professionally.

He visibly relaxed.

"Excellent. In that case, welcome to the team Jasper! You're first assignment will be a group therapy 'boot camp' so to speak. You have five others in the group. On Thursday, you'll speak to each one individually, then on Saturday, you're all heading to a secluded house outside Seattle for a week, just to… get away from it. I need to warn you though, this is a big responsibility, you will be taking on five very… well known clients. I'll speak to you later this afternoon! Now don't let me keep you, go out and enjoy your last few days of freedom!" He smiled, and I couldn't help but return it.

I headed out of the main doors, and stared into the sunlight.

Taking a deep breath, I set my sights on home, and filled with euphoria, I ran.

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