Another horror movie. Guts, blood, things coming out of people that should remain inside. I knew I never should have taken this class. It really has no educational value. It's only for an extra credit to get my major on track. I've actually never really paid any attention to what was said or done in these movies, but everyone wanted to watch them, find the holes, and all of that, but they never did, they just looked on in awe at the blood. They wouldn't be nearly so interested if they had ever witnessed the real thing.

But these humans really were twenty-one, not just playing a part, like I was. So who was I to stop what they wanted? I was no one; I was another person who wanted to watch this movie. It had a plot, unlike most movies these days. But I still didn't care for it, call me old fashioned.

Instead of looking at the screen and paying attention to what happened, I thought of Alice. Still in high school, loving the attention she would get for her outlandish styles and "out there" makeup. She loved to do things that would attract attention, but not too much, of course. She was always careful with the law, and I had always suspected that it was for my sake: she follows the law, I'll have less trouble following the law. I didn't mind of course, when would I ever mind anything Alice did? And I only ever did mind when anyone did anything if it were something like keeping me away from humans after a mistake. I could handle it, I was sure. I only ever slipped up once every some odd years now, and still they babied me until they thought I was fit to handle the public once again.

I loved my family, I truly did, but sometimes, when they treated me like the newborn whose bloodlust was out of control, I felt like I didn't belong. The only one who knew of these thoughts was Edward, of course. I would never tell Alice anything like that, she'd take it too personally and be offended and hurt, and that was the last thing I would want to do to her. But I kept the thoughts of being alienated to myself, and Edward never spoke to me of them, and I was thankful he awarded me my privacy.

But, were Alice to ever truly find out how I felt when I slipped up other than the apparent hate towards myself and being ashamed, I actually had no clue of what she would do. I knew she wouldn't leave, she'd never leave, but it did beg the question, what would she do? I intended to never find out. After all, everyone had secrets, no? She was even keeping one from the family at this very moment.

But she had made it very clear that, no matter what, she would not leave me. The last slip up I had had a few years ago had been the worst by far. Edward had wanted to introduce me to a blood bank, of all places. Even Carlisle, who appreciated the gesture, had called Edward stupid and scolded him for taking me there. There had been a grand total of eighteen patients, and I didn't even bother to count the nurses. I think Edward just didn't like the town, and that was why he did it. He had always shown disgust for Wyoming, and I suppose it was just so bad that he was willing to harm everyone in the family except him to get out of there.

Emmett had to stage an electrical blow out, make it look like an accident, or the Volturi would have come, but after that we left and they never looked back. For weeks after that incident I wouldn't talk to anyone, and I didn't even go to school for a while, simply because I felt so horrible. Alice and Carlisle repeatedly told me it wasn't my fault, and I shouldn't be so hard on myself, but those people had been donating something so simply so that others could live, and I stopped that. I had cut short the lives of so many willing and good people, and for what? A past I couldn't control? The inability to not control myself when I smelt something so tempting as fresh human blood? Then I swore that, no matter how much there was, no matter how many people contributed to it, I wouldn't taste that savory sweet liquid again. I only wondered how long it would last this time.

But Alice had been my lighthouse during that depressingly long and dark time during my life. She didn't go to school, just to make sure I stayed where we had a bed and a loving support system, and she didn't even care if she missed her favorite show. She stayed up in my room with me for so long, I don't even remember how many weeks were spent just looking at each other. Occasionally, when the thought of what I had done would sink in again, I would quickly walk around the room in frantic confusion, packing a bag for myself, claiming I couldn't possibly live here, not after killing an entire blood bank, of all places.

It was times like those, times when that little, fragile and beautiful hand would tug the suitcase out of my own, put it on the ground, and start taking out the clothes. She'd hang them, if they needed to be hung, fold them if they needed to be folded, and she'd put the suitcase back where it belonged. She did this all very slowly, and she only ever let me know of love. Never annoyance, never anger, only love. After she would put away the suitcase, she would come over to me, still all antagonizingly slowly, and pick up my hands in hers. That would be all for the time being, but after a while, her hands would trace patterns around my scars, and that made them beautiful. When she would reach my shoulders she would reach up and wrap her arms around my neck, just resting her head on my chest.

I couldn't just ignore her when she was so close, so warm. I would put my arms around her as well, and we'd stand like that for the longest time. Never moving, just holding each other. Occasionally, such as the incident following the blood band, she would move her head and start kissing some kind of pattern on my chest, Alice was all about patterns, and eventually she'd use her teeth to rip at my shirt, so she could have access to my bare chest, which she loved to look at, to kiss. I used to be so self-conscious, but not around Alice, not anymore.

So she'd rip away at my shirt, small sections every time, until it was just a tattered mess on the floor, and she'd stand there, tracing the scars with her fingers, kissing the particularly bad ones, and never being scared or frightened by them, but instead intrigued. From here she either asked for stories of when I was in the war, or I would lean down to meet her face, and kiss her. This time I took the second option.

I would slide my hands around her waist and pick her up so that her legs were wrapped around my waist, and we'd just stand there, my arms around her and her legs around me, just kissing. Then we'd move to the bed, my falling on my back and her legs unwrapping from me just in time to have us land so perfectly you'd know we'd been doing it for years. That day she had been wearing a button up shirt, so, naturally, I started undoing the buttons, slow, compared to how fast I would usually unbutton them, and she would just tangle her fingers in my hair. We always moved pleasantly slow after I had messed up, and it seemed to fit the mood, not because it was usually a sad time for me, but because we knew we were in no rush to go anywhere or be interrupted by our family.

So we lingered on kissing long after her shirt and undergarment had been "disposed of". Soon though, as most guys can attest to, I needed more than just kissing, so I flipped her over, so that now I was on top, and undid the button and zipper to her jeans efficiently and quickly. Those also joined her shirt on the floor. Next to join the growing pile were my jeans, and Alice took care of that. She always thought it "wasn't fair" that I would undress her and myself all in one go.

It was also times like those where I realized just how much I did belong with the Cullen's, that this was my place for as long as we were to live. And for that, I was exceedingly grateful.

"Now, would anyone like to share with the class their feelings during this past ten minutes?" the professor said, suddenly pulling me out of my thoughts. I looked around and people were giving each other embarrassed grins and some were even chuckling awkwardly. We all looked around, waiting for someone to stand up, but no one would. Then, a girl towards the front, stood up slowly.

"Well at first I was kind of mad, and then, for some strange reason, I felt this really nice feeling of calm wash over me, like stepping into a hot shower after a really stressful day, and then… well, this is embarrassing, I felt really, really aroused, almost like I was reliving… sex, basically. I don't know, is it usual to feel like that during a movie where people are brutally murdered?" she said, looking around as if people would be judging her horribly.

"Well, some people actually do get turned on during movies like that," said a boy towards the back, "but I know I'm not usually one of those people, and I had the same phase of emotions as you, so maybe it was a very well made movie?" he suggested, looking at the professor.

"How many others of you felt those same emotions throughout the past few minutes?" she asked, looking around, and also looking embarrassed. Almost everyone in the classroom raised his or her hands. I raised my hand as well, just so it wouldn't look odd, and with that the class was dismissed. After however many years of having had this power, one would think I'd have control of it by now, but I suppose that Carlisle was right. When I'm overwhelmed by emotions I welcome into my mind, they seep into everyone around me without my noticing.

I'd definitely have to work on that if I wanted to think of Alice during class again.

Well, this was an idea given to me by a friend. I don't think it'll be exactly what she expected, but here it is in all its pride and glory. Reviews would be much appreciated, as usual. :)