I own nothing.

This is somewhat of a prologue. Don't let the length fool you -- future chapters are longer. Enjoy.


Emmett McCarty sure knew how to throw one hell of a party.

My partner in crime, the wonderful Jasper Whitlock, was at my side, running his hands through his unkempt, dirty hair, swaying his body in time with the pumping music that was blaring through the oversized speakers. He had a knowing smirk on his face—a smirk that never leaves his face, to be precise. His eyes were scoping the room, sizing the girls up to find one that met his standards.

I was sure any of the girls in the party would pique Jasper's interest. I followed his eyes around the room and couldn't count on two hands the amount of sluts rubbing their bodies all over the guys.

I was sure they were all up to his standards, as Jasper Whitlock's standards include: a freshly trimmed vagina… and that's about it.

Someone must have caught his eye, because he gave me a nod and was out of sight in a flash. I didn't mind being left alone; I wasn't the type of girl to cock-block my best friend of since I could remember. It just didn't seem right.

So I let Jasper go on his way to fuck the vapid, brainless skank of the night. It was nothing new -- the absolute usual. So, as I watched Jasper retreat, I decided to follow in his footsteps. I scoped the room like Jasper had, but as I mentally noted that not one of the guys at the party appealed to me, I figured Lady Luck had it out for me tonight. I mean, sure, there were plenty of fuckable guys roaming around the place, but I couldn't picture myself riding on top of them, screaming a name that I wouldn't remember in the morning.

Oh well, maybe next time, I thought to myself.

Instead of letting a drunk, sweaty quarterback have his way with me, I decided it fitting to down another pint of vodka. Alcohol made me happy, utterly uninhibited. Some people liked to tell me that I was a different person when I was intoxicated, saying it like it was a bad thing. I couldn't for the live of me fathom why someone wouldn't want to turn into someone else for a night, especially if they were constantly fighting a never-ending internal battle like I was. But now wasn't the time to dwell on the past, on things I could never change.

So I decided to dance until my legs fell off. It wouldn't take long; I couldn't feel them, anyway.

I thrashed around the makeshift dance floor, making sure that I gyrated my hips and ass all over every good looking guy I saw. When the guys got too into it -- I could tell by the slight stiffening in their crotch -- I'd move onto the next. Their sexually-charged sighs of frustration didn't go unnoticed, either. I noticed Jessica Stanley and Lauren Mallory in the corner, their heads pressed together, whispering furiously while their eyes darted around the room.

Yes, Jessica, I did just feel your boyfriend's cock on my ass, thank you very fucking much. Deal with it.

The rest of the night went by in a hazy, drunken blur. I saw Jasper a few times throughout the night, but the urge to talk to him didn't register in my mind. I was happy just roaming, finding new people to talk to but not staying with them long enough to learn their name. I knew what my limit on straight vodka was, but I admittedly got a little more crazy than I'd intended. I drank. And drank and drank and drank. And then things went fuzzy—and then they finally went black.

----

"Bella?"

Shut up.

"Wake the hell up."

Go fuck yourself.

"We're going to be late."

I don't fucking care.

"You have a Calculus final today."

Shit.

"I'm awake," I groaned. Jasper's voice felt like a bass drum in my ear, like it reverberated through my skull. It made my head swirl uncomfortably. My voice sounded like my mother's -- coarse as hell and so fucking gravely. I cleared my throat and scratched my head.

My fucking head. It was pounding so hard that I couldn't bring myself to open my eyes.

"Good. That's one step. Now you actually have to get out of bed," Jasper said, prying at my arms which I had wrapped securely around my throbbing head. Hangovers are a bitch.

I slapped Jasper's hand away and sat up in bed, trying my hardest to quell my nausea with deep breaths. It barely worked and I wrapped my arms around my stomach, my head hanging low. I probably looked like death.

I was glad Forks was always rainy, because my head would have surely exploded if I had been exposed to sunlight. The dull, gray light coming in from Jasper's bedroom window was almost calming, if not totally depressing. I yawned and stretched. My muscles felt like they were made of wood; it took all of my strength to swing my legs off of the bed.

I ran my hand over my legs, slightly shocked to find them completely bare. I figured Jasper must have taken my pants off while I was passed out in attempts to keep me comfortable. With any other guy, I would have felt violated, but I knew Jasper did it with my best interest in mind. I hoped so, at least.

"Thanks," I offered, gesturing half-heartedly to my bare legs.

"No problem," he drawled. He grabbed my hand and pulled me off the bed in one swift motion, causing me to sway, but thankfully Jasper caught me before I collapsed. "You've got about twenty minutes before we're tardy, so get your shit together quick."

And so began another mind-numbing day at Forks High.