A/N: Thank you lovelies for reading and reviewing!

Massive, ginormous props to my beta, persnickety_er.

Disclaimer: Don't own.

Ugh! My head! I internally groaned. I was slowly waking up from… something. I couldn't think what it was or how I had gotten into the position I was currently in. I could feel that my body was lying horizontal on a soft surface; though stiff and starched to no end.

The first thing I heard was a door opening and closing with a light, metallic click. "You need to go home." The voice sounded familiar, but I couldn't place who he was.

"How much longer with this?" A soft, anxious velvet voice called. The sound came from somewhere close to my ear.

"Her breathing indicates she should be waking up soon." The familiar voice was clearly trying to inject some of his calm manner into the velvet one. I heard a pen running across paper, and it hurt my ears.

I couldn't open my eyes to show them I was here and aware. My eyelids felt heavy, one of them heavier than the other. A vein pulsed and beat loud on my temple, sending pain in a roundabout way behind my eyeball.

I groaned loudly this time at the sudden onslaught of the sharp annoyance.

"Bella?" The familiar voice called.

What sounded like chair legs scraping across the floor beat loudly against my ears. Shoes protested noisily against a squeaky surface. The unmistakable sound of a door opening and closing went by quickly.

"Bella? Can you open your eyes?" The familiar voice willed me to finally make contact with him, not in a commanding way, more like I was being encouraged to take my first baby steps.

My body responded with the opening of one eye. The other was blocked by a scratchy, thick cloth. There was no light peeking through. Am I blind in one eye? Oh God! I felt my hand weakly come up to try and touch the obstruction over my vision.

"You have a bruised eye." I finally recognized that it was Carlisle, with my one good eye apparently. His hands gently pulled the sticky tape from holding the cloth down, coolness of the air around me hitting the area around my eyelid. His face remained still. "It should heal within a few days."

I hadn't registered before then where I was. My one eye took in the gown I was wearing, and the strapped on cast on my left leg. The room smelled sterile and clean. The incessantly beeping heart monitor just over my shoulder, next to the railings on the side of my bed. This all led me to believe that I was in the hospital.

Charlie entered, rushing to my side. He definitely hadn't slept much. His eyes held a small glint in them. Tears won't fall from his eyes, but utter gratefulness shone. His rough, calloused hands clasped my right one. A small Charlie like smile was his true physical way of telling me that he was feeling better now that I was awake.

"How you doing, kiddo?" Charlie brought out a nickname I hadn't heard in many years.

"I'm…" I could feel the hoarseness of my voice, and how strange it felt to move my vocal cords in general. The pain in my skull was so wishy-washy. I wish I had some sort of voice telling me to prepare for it. The IV tugged lightly as I felt my bandaged hand.

"You were bleeding quite a bit." The tone of Charlie's words told me he was still a little spooked from seeing so much of my spilt blood.

I squeezed the hand Charlie had underneath mine. He looked relieved.

"What…happened?" Everything came out monstrously slow.

"You were in the school parking lot. Mr. Banner was distracted as he backed up his car into…where you were standing." Charlie clearly didn't want to relive this more than he had to.

Carlisle walked out of the room, promising that he'd check back in on me in a little while.

"Your friends are looking to see you." Charlie informed me.

A few minutes later, after Charlie let go of my hand and smoothed my hair back, he switched places with Alice. She looked the most un-Alice I'd ever seen her. Her usually cheerful bounce into a room was replaced by a slow shuffle. Her short spiky hair was flat against her head. She looked to be following the same sleeping plan as Charlie.

"Oh my Bella. You had us all so worried." Alice gave me a light hug, not looking to disturb any of the wires and tubes running into my body.

"I'm up now." My throat weakly offered.

"I hope you're feeling better." Alice slid the chair closer to my bed, the legs grating against the floor.

"My head feels like a two hundred pound gorilla sat on it."

Alice looked up at me from the chair and chuckled. "Good to know the gorilla didn't knock that humor out."

I wanted to scoff at her, but my voice hurt. And I certainly couldn't roll my eyes. I stuck out my tongue at her instead, like the five year old I knew I was.

Jasper came in not long after Alice, giving her a quick kiss 'hello' and sat by me. He pulled over another chair and propped his feet on it. The typical Jasper behavior ended there though. He was much more talkative then I'd heard him before. He went into detail about one of his favorite Civil War heroes, General Robert E. Lee. I tried to cling onto his words, but I could barely get passed the first sentence about how the General became one. Jasper seemed to still be as on-edge as he had been the last time I'd seen him. He picked up a tissue box and tossed it around in his hands for a few minutes.

He definitely had a bucket load of something on his mind.

"Lee once said 'You must study to be frank with the world: frankness is the child of honesty and courage. Say just what you mean to do on every occasion, and take it for granted that you mean to do right.' Honesty, Bella. There are those who don't have it in their blood. There are also those that have it, but have had it transfused with the blood of dishonesty. That last one hurts more then someone born with lies in their veins." Jasper stopped tossing the box between his hands.

Edward didn't sit down like everyone else had. His eyebrows scrunched together, his mouth in a straight line. He looked like he could punch someone in that moment; listen, Edward, I feel like I've been hit with a boulder. I don't think I can take anything more than a feather hitting me.

As if reading my stress correctly, he sat down with a sigh and placed his hand on the bed, playing with the edges of my bed sheet.

He ran his other hand through his hair. His shirt looked clean, but his pants looked like a wrinkled mess. I even spotted a faded mustard stain on his thigh.

Everyone is like The Night of the Living Dead. I'm up, people! I'm alive!

"Edward, please stop." I struggled to get the words out.

He reached over to my bedside table, pouring some water from the salmon colored pitcher into a clear plastic cup. He handed it to me. I didn't know why I didn't think of that before.

"What do I need to stop?" He linked his fingers together, leaning his elbows on his thighs.

"Just…everyone." My words took on a whining quality. "Ever since I woke up, everyone is mopey. Angry even."

"You were hit by a car. You were out for two days." He offered as an excuse.

"I'm fine now though. My head hurts, yes. My leg is in a cast. My throat feels like it's on fire." I felt an inner chuckle come on from that last one. "It's all things that heal. Head is still here and above my shoulders. Everything is fine now."

Edward hung his head. "Do you remember anything before the accident?"

My tender brain searched for any information that stuck out from that night. "I remember the tournament…The Bitch Brigade…" Edward chuckled at the nickname. I bit my bottom lip as I dug for more memories of the evening, "…stepping outside…and…I might've seen Emmett, but I'm not sure."

Edward exhaled loudly, disappointment laced into his nonverbal response, "Emmett," he grumbled.

"What? What happened to Emmett?" Curse this coma I was in!

"I…I'd rather he talk to you then you hearing from a third party." His hand tightly gripped the sheet on my bed again.

"Edward, now you can personally stop doing that." I gestured toward his angry fist.

"Sorry." His hand loosened from the cotton. He briefly patted my hand, before placing it back on his lap.

I decided to address something far less serious. "Get into a fight with a mustard packet?" My finger gestured to the yellow distraction on his leg

Edward looked down. "Bottle, actually." His tongue darted out, his thumb pressing against it. The friction and wetness of his thumb wiped away only a little bit of the stain from his jeans.

Edward and I sat and watched a little bit of TV, but they didn't have any good channels. We eventually settled on a late night comedy variety program.

"What was that skit that he did a while ago? I can't remember what it was." I twirled and gestured with the remote in my hand.

"Hmm…" Edward folded his arms, his body slid down to a more slumped position. "I don't remember." He chuckled and smiled. "I usually fell asleep to it."

"What? That was the best thing ever invented for late night." I slapped the remote against the bed.

"I prefer the other guy. He's also on earlier."

"What are you, a fifty year old man? Maybe you need a reason to stay up late."

I went into a side by side comparison of the two late night hosts and why my favorite clearly trumped his.

I started feeling subconscious in my bed. It felt like I was being laid out to be viewed; I was in a practically sheer gown, without a bra, a thin piece of fabric as a blanket that wouldn't keep a baby warm, and my pants-less legs out on display.

Eventually, I didn't care too much about the position I was lying in or how I was dressed. The dimly lit room became a blur in my eye and I drifted to sleep.

The next morning, I awoke to a static sound and a long beep.

"Chief, what's your location?" Charlie's walkie talkie came to life.

Charlie gave an annoyed look, likely mad at himself for not turning the radio volume down while in the hospital. He pushed the button to allow him to speak; he sounded tired. "Forks Community Hospital."

"Sorry, Chief." The officer responded on the other end.

"How long have you been here?" I asked groggily.

"I came in not too long ago. I woke your friend up and told him to get some shut eye at home. Nice of him to stay with you through the night. I meant to come back sooner."

I decided that enough undue attention had been paid to me for now. God knows how much more was given to me while I was unconscious the past couple days.

I rubbed the sleep out of my eye. "Dad, go work. I'll be fine." I reassured him. "I'm in a hospital…" A few stuttered yawns escaped me, as any long movement with my bruised eye hurt, "…with doctors, nurses, the whole medical kit and caboodle."

"Bells, I'm your father, I'm allowed to stay and worry." He shifted to sit up straight in his seat, taking an authoritative stance.

"I think you would be the first to say 'where does worrying get someone?'" Please, did I have him hook, line and sinker?

Charlie looked at the beeping heart monitor next to me, then at the phone beside my bed.

"I'll call and check on you in a little while." He placed his hands on his thighs, and lifted himself up off the chair. The numerous amounts of gadgets on his utility belt swayed noisily.

"Deal." It was as good a compromise as we'd come to.

Carlisle came in a half hour after Charlie left. He explained to me the extent of my injuries. Besides the eye, I had a concussion that knocked me out for a couple of days, and a severely broken shin bone. As a result, I had the luxury of a metal rod in my leg for two months and staying off my feet for a month. This meant no school or other activities that weren't of the utmost importance.

"No firehouse?" I practically begged.

"Firehouse? Oh, no. None of that."

I was way more disappointed that I had to stay away from the firehouse for another month. If there was a way to get myself injected with a non-bad luck or non-accident prone gene, I would've. It baffled me that other than sports injuries, Emmett always remained unscathed. Charlie never really had a full blown klutzy moment, just the normal trips over a crack in the sidewalk.

I guess I must've gotten my bad luck and clumsiness from my mother. Not like I would know. It's also unlikely that Charlie would share any of those memories with me. And then I realized where I was and knowing that she had her last breaths in one of these rooms.

I was called back to the present by Charlie wheeling me out of the hospital later in the afternoon and to his cruiser. I was partly grateful that the town I lived in was small and made car rides short.

Charlie supported me with his shoulder for the umpteenth time in my life, as I hopped my way into the house. Every time was just as frustrating and humiliating than the next.

"I'll just lie on the couch." I mumbled to Charlie, as we stood in our small entryway. He helped me to the couch. I didn't want to deal with the long ass journey up the stairs and back down again. My month long confinement in this house will be center stage no matter where I rest. He ran to grab me some pillows for my head and my leg.

The pillows were cold and that made me smile, as I leaned my head back into them. I picked up my leg and watched the pillow hug the sides of my shin and calf.

"Can I get you anything?" Charlie inquired from behind the couch.

"No. I'm alright right now", as I folded my hands on my stomach. Charlie's boots made their typical heavy noise against the floor as he walked up the stairs.

Emmett quietly shuffled into the room from upstairs. He looked at the sofa chair and sat in it. From where I sat, I could see with my one good eye out the window and look at Emmett directly.

His mouth let out a huge gust of air before he started. "I'm sorry I didn't come to the hospital to see you."

"I wouldn't have known. I was kind of out of it. I had enough people crowding around me anyway." I shrugged my shoulders.

It was silent in the room for a few minutes. I watched the sunset outside the window. The sun burst with bright rays of orange, pink, and red. Our treeless front yard gave me a clear view.

Emmett leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, rubbing his palms together. He sat back and wiped his palms on his thighs, looking anywhere but at me. I couldn't help but feel anxious from his movements. I remembered Edward mentioning Emmett having to tell me something from the night before. Maybe this was it.

"Emmett, is there something you have to tell me?" No bullshit.

Emmett looked at my leg and its cast, then up at my head and covered bruised eye. He leaned forward again, his head hung low as he ran his hands through his curly hair.

"Bella…do you remember anything before the accident?"

"Not much, no. Just the game and maybe one or two things?" I grabbed a thick cotton blanket off the back of the couch, opening it up. I had a hard time covering my legs. Emmett stood up from his chair and helped lay it over me. He tucked the blanket around me like a cocoon. "Thanks." I softly offered.

Emmett decided to sit on the arm of the chair, his profile in my sight. "I've been seeing someone."

Okay, he does have a girlfriend. "And?"

"Well…I'm not so sure that you'll have a fair opinion of who I'm seeing."

Well, duh. No one is going to be good enough for you. "You never know."

"I'm going out… with Rosalie."

Huh? What? I couldn't help but let out a laugh. Rosalie? I covered my mouth with one of my scabbed and scraped hands. Another one erupted from somewhere in me.

Emmett stayed quiet. He turned his head to look at me, and for a faint second, I thought he was going to join me in my laughing fit; this is another Emmett joke, a dark one, but another one of his jokes….Right? Instead, he looked at me with no trace of humor etched on his face. Right?

Instantly, I felt my face lose any hint of humor. My hand lowered to my side, revealing a gaped mouth. "No." I started with disbelief, quickly transforming into anger. "No. What? No!"

"Bella, just listen please --"

"Do you even know who she is? Do you?" My throat felt dry and tight.

"Don't overwork yourself, please?" Emmett's big brother voice warned me of my tired condition. His hands gestured me to calm down.

"D-do you know the shit her and her skanks do to me?"

"Don't call her that." His voice was quietly defensive.

"So you're defending her?" That word felt so dirty and unworthy to be mentioned with her name.

"I'm not defending anyone."

"Then what is it, huh? What is it?" My hands balled into tight fists. My nails dug into my palms, scratching my healing wounds.

He didn't give an answer. Instead, we sat there in more silence.

I felt so angry that I couldn't just get up and leave the room. I wanted to throw something at him, but the only things in my reach were my pillows and they were the only comforting thing to me at the moment. I settled for looking off in the distance, angry traitor tears forming in my eye.

"Bella, I didn't mean to make you cry." He made no move to comfort me in anyway.

I just ignored that last statement. "How could you, Emmett? And keeping it a secret from me?" my voice came out small and weak. What the fuck did he expect?

Emmett remained still. "Look…I know you hate me---"

I scoffed, dabbing the tears away from the edge of my eye. That's not even the half of it.

"--but I can't stop seeing her." His head shook with conviction, the action making my blood boil beyond its limit.

"Of course not." Resigned sarcasm coated my voice.

"I can't…tell you everything."

"Isn't that everything? You're seeing someone who is part of a group that makes my life a living hell? Congratulations, Emmett. You win at making me feel like even more shit than I do right now."

"You don't think I intervene? You don't think I tell Rose to tell them to lighten up on you?"

"Like that makes up for all the shit they do!" I was feeling the effects of my upset manner coating the inside of my nose. "If you like her so much, then tell her to stop hanging out with them." Rather you not hang out with her.

"I'm not about to be the guy who tells his girl who to hang out with."

He really wasn't giving me an option. I could tell he wasn't willing to budge on dating that blonde bitch. There wasn't any other way to see this situation. Does. He. Not. Get. It?!

"Your girl? I'm your fucking sister!" I was pointing my index finger into my chest.

A blimp sized quiet filled the air. My sniffling was the only sound bouncing off the walls.

"So now what, Emmett? I'm supposed to watch you be happy with your girlfriend and then have to deal with her and her posse continue to pull pranks on me at school? Because that is what it sounds like to me."

There were no lights on in the room and the sun was quickly leaving us. I couldn't make out his expression clearly anymore.

"I'm sorry, Bella." His voice was steady and quiet. The couch's frame creaked as Emmett stood up. His form walked to the front door and disappeared outside. I could hear his Jeep start and drive away from the house.

My emotions were running high from the physical and emotional pain. Tears streamed down my face. And I was further upset that the tears were only wetting one cheek.

I felt like I had been slugged with a sledgehammer, and then dipped into hot molten lava.

And no hand could reach in to help me out of it.


"Ugh!" I gritted my teeth. Fuck, I can't reach it! My arm stretched out under the coffee table. My fingers splayed out in the strenuous effort I was making to pick up the damn remote control. That's what I get for tossing it around and trying to have fun. Trying being the key word.

"Here I'll get it." Charlie quickly walked over from the dining room. He scooped it up and slapped it into my open palm. With the push of a button, the television clicked to life. Some mindless mid-day game show was wrapping up. Some old lady won a vacation to Italy and a fucking boat.

I didn't care that much to watch television or do anything for that matter. I had exiled myself to the couch, since I came home from the hospital four days prior. I only got up to use the downstairs bathroom or hobble my way to the fridge for food. School had started back up and I was oddly missing the normally abhorrent place. Those pop quizzes in English would've been a godsend to my new loathsome routine.

Of course, there was one person I really didn't want to see. He had guessed correctly that I didn't want to see his face, and gave me space. He would run upstairs when he came home and stayed up there all night. I had suspected that he had come down late at night to scour the kitchen for food, and to be in another room besides his own. I was up late at night due to my sporadic sleeping schedule. At sometime in the night, I'd fall asleep. The television would be also be off when I woke up in the morning, and I knew that Charlie went to bed at a reasonable hour.

I wasn't sure how long it would last until one of us said or did something. We were being stubborn, I'll admit, but I felt my reason was more justifiable than his. Not only did it hurt that he was dating someone made of bitchiness, but that he had kept it a secret. Rosalie never said more than a few words to me, and yet she had the audacity to go along with what the Bitch Brigade did. She had the nerve to pull, prod, and twist up the strings of my insecurities.

I couldn't help but wonder if Emmett was walking over to the dark side and possibly feeding the BB things about me. No, he wouldn't do that. That's heartless and wrong and un-Emmett. Very un-Emmett. Very un-brotherly. And then I regretted for even thinking something like that.

Charlie knew Emmett and I weren't on speaking terms, but he didn't know the extent of it. Three days into our fight, Charlie called a meeting at the Lodge. It was the one time I was lucky to have the injuries I had. No way would I be able to feel comfortable, physically or emotionally, discussing this with my father in a public setting.

He also took it upon himself to relax his duties at work for a few days, only going on calls that were dire.

Maybe Charlie will let me do fire experiments with my jars. It would've been the highlight of my fucking day…or weeks to come.

"Dad, could I move the jars right here?" I asked before he went out on a call for backup.

"When I get back, Bells. I don't want you alone with it." His slightly disappointed tone warned me, as he stepped into his bulky boots by the door.

The fake Hollywood set on the television drew me in. The mid-day dramas made me feel dirty and tired, more than before. My brain was melting at the sights and sounds of the over dramatized life styles that played out on screen. A living room with bad lighting left shadows under the actor's eyes. I ran my fingertips underneath my eyes, feeling the evidence of my sleeping issues.

"I should be back within the hour. It's a rookie highway patrolman, looking for validation." His experience with the young man was identifiable in his tone.

Twenty minutes after Charlie left, my leg pain kicked in. My pain pills weren't within reach, likely to ward off any addiction I could develop from them. I was an unmovable lump on the couch. The crutches given to me were in the hallway closet behind the coats; I was under explicit orders from Dr. Cullen to wait until he says I could be up and about again. A cane was somewhere in the house, but somewhere fucking hidden. Hidden. Things are always fucking hidden from me.

The front door knocked twice.

"Who is it?!" My voice carried to the other side of the door.

"Bella? You there?" Alice called back.

Shit. Ugh, where's the spare key? I closed my eyes, hopefully jotting my memory.

"Alice, I can't get up! There's a spare key behind the rock!" A few seconds later, I heard the door open and close.

Alice walked into the living room. Her eyes instantly became invented with easiness.

"Bella, look at this place", her tone just shy of complete offensiveness.

Weakly, I turned my head to look at what the room was telling her. The coffee table was littered with old magazines and puzzle books I asked Charlie to fetch me from my book shelf. Empty and half filled water bottles lay like plastic boats. The wastebasket next to the couch overflowed with tissues, dirty paper plates from my meals that I would actually eat.

"And you need a shower." Her gaze made contact with the top of my head.

"Thanks, Alice." I looked off at the figures on the screen. Some lady on TV squished a girl's face in her hand before giving her a royal slap across her cheek.

All of a sudden, I felt like such a big blubbery baby. My vision blurred with long dormant tears sliding down my right cheek. The semi-healing eye took advantage of my now open eyelid, sending drops down in succession. I could feel the days old dirt all over my oily skin; dead skin cells rough and grainy. I pulled my fingers through my hair; knots prevented the smooth ride down to my ends.

My hands flopped into my lap as I glanced over at the same slap happy woman on TV from before. She had done a complete one eighty and was now comforting the girl who was at the other end of her act of punishment.

"Bella, let me help you." Alice gently sat on the other end of the sofa; my feet almost brushed the side of her thigh.

"With what, Alice?" I made no move to look at her.

"Clean you up. You can't spend the next month the way you are right now."

She wants to help me shower. No. Just. No. "Alice, No. You are not helping me with that. That's--No." I vehemently shook my head.

"Why not?"

"I'm..well.." I'd be naked. "I'm not...I'm not comfortable with..." I'd never had someone close to me see me naked since I was a baby. Even in gym class, I changed in the bathroom stalls. Doctors' jobs included seeing their patients bare, but I still had a minor panic attack when I had to put on that examination gown. The cold room would hit my body and it still felt like I couldn't calm down. I'd probably panic from the afterlife as the mortician prepared my body.

Alice sighed. "Bella, I'm only here to help. I think you would feel immensely better if you washed up. A clean body is a happy body. Your body is a temple." She preached to me.

Ashamed, I lowered my head. Alice was being her happy, caring self and I was preventing her from getting what she wanted; for the other person to ultimately be a happy, caring person. Truth was, I didn't know what would make me that way. I wondered what would be the ultimate thing that would make me as perpetually joyous and unbridled as Alice Cullen.

I felt jealous of someone else for the innumerable interval in my life.

"Would you feel better if I shared something about me with you?" Alice glanced at me, tilting her head to the side. Her eyes took on a calm, knowing look.

I wasn't sure if it'll actually work. I didn't know what could be as personal as exposing my body to someone else. Unless they were doing the same.

"Alice, you don't need to show me yours. I mean, I'm sure you are very pretty. But, um--" Great, Bella. You sound like a lesbian.

Alice's giggle interrupted my embarrassing same sex rambling. "No, nothing like that." She reached for the remote to turn off the now happy mother and daughter on TV.

Silence filled the air for a few seconds. Alice took a deep breath before she began. "I always thought that I was…unshakably blissful. And knowing how blissful I was made me even more elated.

"I thought that being who I was would help me get through whatever I would go through in life. Why shouldn't it? Was it because I was personally dealing with something and not looking at it objectively?

"This..." Her mouth opened to let a breath of air escape. "...thing I trudged through…completely made all the years before seem like a lie. Well, not a lie, but that everything I thought I was…it made me question things. Ultimately, I had to build myself up again and figure out if I truly was the happy person I thought I was."

Alice had engrossed me in her story. I really didn't know where she was going with it, but it left me anxious and unsure whether I would react the way she wanted me too.

In one swift motion, Alice's hand grabbed the back of her hair and…

Did she just pull off her hair?

Alice now sat on my couch, holding a wig in her hands. Her real hair was the same black color, but it was a buzz cut and hair missing in some spots.

I couldn't help my mouth from gaping open or my hand from rising to cover it. My thoughts immediately went to her health.

"Oh God, Alice! Oh God, Alice are you dying? Please don't be dying!" Genuine tears were brimming in my eyes.

"No, Bella. I'm perfectly healthy. Except for…" Alice pointed to the little amount of hair on the top of her head. "I have alopecia." Alice finally admitted, fussing with the ends of her wig.

"So, you're…" The next word I was about to say sounded wrong, "…bald?" I was hoping I wasn't offending her or sounding mean.

"I take pills to try to grow my hair, but it doesn't fully grow in some spots. It'll appear and then fall out."

I looked at the spots on her head again, noticing that some spots were fuzzier than others. For the first time, I realized how I would feel if I was in Alice's shoes. I would've had a hard time dealing without my hair. I would cry every time I saw a bristly brush, knowing I couldn't use it on my head. Magazine ads with women and their perfect locks would send me into hysterics. It made me feel like a female for the first time.

I care what I look like to others?

I think that even if I was Alice, and I was a living light bulb, I would've had a hard time dealing with it myself. Would Alice have had a hard time like I was having? Was I making a big deal out of nothing?

Now I felt like my problems with myself were small compared to hers.

"Alice, I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

"I didn't know."

"Why would you be sorry for that? I never told you."

"Then why now? I feel so…insignificant." I couldn't find a better word.

"Nothing you think is insignificant. You are human, Bella. You are allowed to think and feel what you want. As for me, I care about you and am doing what I can to get you out of your funk. Funks are not fun."

Alice twisted her body more toward me, her arm laid across the top of the couch. "I've been treating this", she lightly gestured to her head, "like a secret for so long. Why should I hide it? At the same time, it's nobody's business but mine and my friends. And you are my friend so therefore you…" She casually pointed to me, "…are my business."

It was honestly one of the most sincere moments in my life. I needed more of them. I smiled back at Alice, feeling better and happier that I knew a little more about my friend.

Alice was surprisingly strong, as I draped my arm over her shoulder and my hand holding the railing. We made our way up the stairs to clean the funk, literal and figurative, off of me.

After the shower, Alice hung out with me a little bit more. Alice was a little wet from helping me clean myself.

"Sorry, I got you wet." I played with the ends of my long sleeved shirt.

"The one good thing about no hair: Less time in the shower." She smiled and winked.

"Fine, rub it in my face." I twirled the ends of my hair.

"You know? I think you would look really pretty with curls." She grabbed the end I had in my hand, twisting around her finger.

"Really?" What do you have up your sleeve, Alice?

"Yes." Suddenly, Alice gasped. "Sleepover!" She clapped her hands together; her voice so bubbly, I thought it might burst.

Oh. My.

Eventually, Alice had to say her goodbye and left to go home.

Charlie! I forgot about him. I remembered him saying he would be back in about an hour and it was…over an hour later. I was about to call the station when there was a knock on the door.

I immediately thought it was Alice, likely forgetting something. "What Alice?"

"It's me. Can I come in?" the voice of Rosalie floated from behind the door, into my house, and my ears.


A/N: Reviews are love.