Don't judge me.

It's not like I had dreamed of doing this all my life or anything. I mean, does it really reflect that much on a persons personality? Does a job really make people hate you, and not want to be seen with you?

It would seem as though.

I wasn't always like this. I had like, actual fucking friends... not just fuck friends. But, you don't really need any of that, no friend will pay your way through University, or supply you with enough cash to back pack to Croatia.

Fuck Friends will though. A couple carefully placed hand movements and a thrust or two (sometimes thousands) and you are one your way to complete and total happiness.

And, no. I don't mean an orgasm. I mean two crisp fifty dollar bills left on the night stand when you go to wash up.

That's my happiness.

I'm mulling this over in a plane. Not flying anywhere special. Just flying to Forks, Washington.

It's no Croatia by any means. What I can remember of the place, from the visits when I was a kid, are that the place is populated by somewhat awkward and not-good-looking kids around my age, and that it fucking rains like a pregnant woman on a long car ride.

"Now, Bella... I talked to this Emmett fellow, and he says he wants you to meet him in the cafeteria at lunch. He's says you'll know who they are when you see them. He's a funny fuck I tell you, had this joke about bongs and pussies or some shit. But anyways, he's says the wages are a bit higher, because everyone there has nothing better to spend their money on." Roy babbled on.

I was barely listening to him. I had never fucking liked him. He liked to think of himself as this huge pimp type, but he wasn't. He had two girls, me and this girl named Reagan. We were doing this before he found us, but he seems to think that he started it.

Thanks to us, he could fly with me to and back from Seattle without blinking an eye.

"Yeah. Right." I mumbled, turning my eyes back to the copy of Les Miserables that I stole from the library back home in Arizona. Fuck, I missed it there. The blinding heat and the dryness. The tangy smell of burning dirt.

I think I would miss my mom too. As much as I didn't want to admit it. I mean, I told her everything.

Well, except for the sex.

And the drinking.

And maybe the cutting ordeal went unmentioned as well.

Was it chance that she walked in when I was wielding a razor and maybe counting my money at the same time? Maybe it was. I can't find enough energy to care right now. I've been up night after night... thinking about coming back here and having to live with my dad. Charlie. Such an unassuming name.

He was an unassuming guy. He didn't have any problems... well, except for being alone. He was the chief of police in Forks, which basically required that he sit on his ass all day and represent out in public.

My mom was the exact opposite. She could not be alone. She hated it. Even when she left the house to go and try out another one of her many hobbies she had to have a group waiting in an idling Prius out front with a bucket full of flavour infused coffee and gossip.

I think I was a mix of the both really. I liked being alone, and I was more quite like Charlie. But I didn't want to stay alone, not forever. I also couldn't help but care about what people thought of me. I was alone at school mostly, Reagan being my only real friend... but believe me, she's not the kind of girl you wanted to be seen in public with.

So, I mostly stayed in the library in my down time, reading books and acting modest. In retrospect, that was probably a good idea, it only added to the innocence of me, which every teenage boy was eager to destroy.

That was one of the only rules that me, Roy and Reagan had. No one over 20. I mean we're kids for god sakes, not full fledged hookers.

It may sound lame, but I want the big house in the country with the husband that cooks me breakfast in bed and reads to me when I'm sick. The kid issue is a little iffy as of late, but I'm sure I'll probably change my mind in due time.

If you were to peer into my life than you would see that I'm terrified of boredom. That's why I think I started this whole 'job' in the first place. Everything is always new and exciting.

The drinking is to forget about it. And how much of a horrible twisted bitch that I am.

The cutting is to feel something besides disappointment and regret about every single little fucking stupid thing that I do.

Fuck, I am full of self pity.

"Folks, we'll be landing in Seattle in around five minutes. Please get to your seats and secure your seat belts." I heard the cool and clear voice of the Stewardess over the crackly intercom.

I wish I could be like that. Have a secure job that affords me very interesting opportunities. Like traveling five places in one day. Or splicing a penis onto a roll of film. Or maybe peeing in a bowl of clam chowder at a fancy restaurant.

But I'm not. I'm boring and ordinary. And there's nothing worse in life than being like that.

"Well shit Isabella. If I had known that you were going to be such a piss-poor flying mate, than I wouldn't have wasted my money." What Roy meant by that was that he wanted me to suck his dick or something along those lines in the bathroom. As if. He had always been hinting at him wanting me to fuck him or some shit.

Even I have standards.

"I didn't ask you to come. In fact, I think I remembered me telling you not to come, because I can't stand the sight of your face." I whispered so the woman that was sleeping beside me wouldn't hear.

Roy chuckled, ruffling my hair and kissing my forehead. "That's why I love you. Because you're such a bitch." Roy patted my head one more time and fell back into his seat.

The remaining three minutes until the plane bumped roughly onto the tarmac runway seemed like a life time.

I wanted to fucking start over. Say no when Tyler Spacey, offered to give me 50 bucks if I sucked his dick at a party I went to. I was 15, he was 18. What was I supposed to say? No? Like I would commit social suicide like that... and plus, it was 50 dollars... you can get shit done with that.

So I did. I remember it being slightly uncomfortable for me, because he kept jamming my face down, and I was basically choking and my neck was hurting from resisting him so much. But three minutes and a high pitched wheeze later and Tyler was finished, tucked himself in and threw fifty dollars at me. All fives.

And that's how it started. Word of mouth. I did that for a while, fifty dollars for an out of this world orgasm. I got tons of business, one more awkward than the next. But none of them seemed to notice except for me.

Eventually I started to forget their faces. All I could remember was the money.

One twenty. Two tens. Two fives.

Four tens. One Five. Three ones. 8 quarters.

Crumpled up fifty, bent on the upper right corner and a time and date scribbled on the bottom left hand corner. Aug. 8th - 3:45.

I didn't actually start having sex till I was 16. And that's only because-

There's the wall. I can feel myself put it up every time. And then I can't finish the story. Oh well, another time.

"Ladies and Gentleman, welcome to Seattle. Have a great day," This time it's the pilot's voice, deep and experienced. Debonair and cultured.

"Fucking finally," I mumbled, stuffing my stolen book into my bag. The old lady chooses this time to wake up and glares at me through the confines of her thick and yellowing glasses. I smile weakly and turn back to Roy and look out at the gray sky that seems to stretch on forever.

Fuck me.


Underneath the water everything was silent.

I opened my eyes and ignored the stinging of the many mixed up probably harmful chemicals and human bodily fluids that were flooding my eyes. I think I was the only one in this stupid town that actually swam in the lake. For a couple of years at least.

I could see, not hear, the raindrops. Falling on the dusty brown surface of the lake and making perfect little circles, making the water clear for a split second. I watched for about twenty more seconds, marveling at the beauty that I just couldn't explain to anyone else, before I needed to come up for air.

I broke the surface and could barely feel the raindrops hitting me. But I could see them. It's amazing how much sight is linked to reality.

I continued to float there until I gradually sunk under the water again. I opened my eyes, just as a flash of lighting bolted across the sky. All I could see under the water was the many bubbles streaming from my mouth and nose illuminated into tiny circled orbs.

Sometimes I feel like I could cry from the amount of beauty I see in each day. If you look, really look at everything in the world, you will see insurmountable beauty.

Take a spider for example. The cause of many high pitched screams at all girl sleep overs. A case of study in children's science books where they oooh and aaah at the grotesque arachnids.

But what if it was an early summer morning, six at the latest. The clear and pure sunlight beams coming through the slats of your blinds. What if you saw a small almost translucent spider climbing along the slats, the sun light illuminating him and making him almost sparkle. Would you think he was so ugly then?

Everything's beautiful in the right light.

I realize that I need to breathe. I do that sometimes, forget that I'm submerged in water, while I'm deep in thought.

I surface again and realize that the rain is coming pretty hard, and that it's probably unsafe to be swimming when it's like this. I rise out of the water and walk back slowly to the shore, my feet squishing the tiny rocks in between my toes. I grab my soaked towel off of the worn out picnic table and drag it through my hair repeatedly. No results as you've probably guessed.

I grab my under used cell phone out of my shoe and look at the LED illuminated screen. It casts a blue light over the trees and the makes the water dripping down my chest seem like shining drops of nuclear matter. Fake beauty.

Five missed calls. Five text messages. I don't even need to check to know that they're from Lauren. Or maybe Jessica. But does it really matter? Is there that great a difference between the two?

The answer is no. There is no difference. Everything is the same. Everything is always the same. The people are the same, the weather is the same. No excitement in any of the company. That's why I come out to the lake, far into the rural part of the city that no one come to just so I can have a few hours by myself. So I can appreciate the real beauty of nature.

I put my shirt and shoes on and throw my towel and phone into my bag without even checking to see what the messages said. I walked here, so I will have to walk back. But I don't mind, the walk is completely straight, and there is no hills

After five minutes of stumbling down the waterlogged shoulder of the endless expanse of road, I realize that the pent up energy I collected lying completely still in the water is probably not going to go away by walking.

I start to run. Slow at first and then faster and faster until the water burns my eyes and my body feels like it's vibrating with energy.

One car passes by, and I look and see that's it Charlie Swan's police car. He has been the source of gossip for at least a month now. His like, drug addict daughter or something was coming to live with him. I was running on the wrong side of the road so I could see through the passenger side window. Even though it was pouring the girl had her window down. Her hair and face were soaked and she looked pensive from where I could see.

She didn't look like a drug addict to me. Probably needed some sleep. I didn't judge people's beauty before I had actually talked to them, because they were usually ugly to me within the first couple of seconds.

Like, take Rose for example. A friend of my brother Emmett. She was beautiful, in the kind of way old paintings of angels look. But she was mean, to put it lightly. And that kind of lessened her appeal.

So I tried my hardest not to judge the Swan girl on her beauty before I had met her.

AN: I made two movie references in this chapter, very subtly. If you can mention both of them, you will be greatly rewarded... I'm joking, I'll probably just update faster. REVIEW PLEAZE.

P.S- Things will get a lot more juicy as time goes on... so please keep reading and shit.