This is my first ever M story!

In this story, Bella is being bullied at school. I chose to write this story, because I wanted to finally put what I feel, my hurt and pain, into something creative. I am fifteen, almost sixteen and for years, I was bullied badly. It isn't anywhere near how bad it was before, but the wound still stings. So, this is like my own story, through the Twilight characters. I will try to give this story justice, I hope each and every one of you enjoy this, if not, I am sorry. I try my hardest with every story I write, and I will do the same with this one.

Thanks so much for giving this story a chance.



Age is just a number, so isn't size too?


As you age, everything changes shape and size. Skin loses elasticity; it loses the life it had always had, the youth. Hair changes color and could fall out. Teeth discolor and get cavities. Your natural smell changes and you begin to smell like an old person. The musky smell isn't unpleasant, just different.

You go from being a young child to a teenager. You get boyfriends or girlfriends, sometimes both. You do stupid things, like get tattoos and piercings. You get drunk every night, until the thrill wears off. Then you start to try different drugs, and the vast majority gets hooked. They don't know when or how to stop and they regret it - until they get their next fix.

When you become an adult, you grow out of doing those stupid things. You battle through all of your problems until you are considered mature. But, maturity doesn't always happen. You could carry on with your addictions; go into debt trying to pay for them. You could get into trouble and die way too early to even be considered natural.

Eventually, a few survivors become old. They have children, and grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. They fall in love and get married; sometimes more than once. You lose family members and grieve, only to lose a friend and grieve some more. Until that day finally comes, and it's someone else's turn to grieve over you. Your life leaves you only to go to someone else.

They say age is just a number, but isn't size as well? My family has told me my entire life I am pretty, and kind and caring, smart and talented, but that doesn't matter in the real world. All that matters is what you look like and what size of clothes you wear; what your face looks like, or your hair and make-up.

Every day, I my mother tells me I am a beautiful young lady, then I go to school and I get yelled at. I am told how ugly I am, how fat I am. It isn't like I don't know, because I do. Whenever I see my reflection, I don't see some skinny pretty girl; I see what everyone else sees. I have tried to change it, believe me I have tried, but it's hard.

To know what people think about you is difficult. Well, it's not exactly difficult, but it hurts. It feels like someone is repeatedly stabbing you in the chest with a huge butcher's knife; thinking about it hurts. I try so hard not to show it, but I think my parents can see my pain. Renee, my mother, feels horrible about everything I get put through. She was, like me, big during her teen years and I just so happened to get that wonderful gene.

At school, I don't have many friends. Well, I have two friends, and honestly, I don't know why they are even my friends. They are both pretty and popular - Alice and Angela. Alice is who I would consider my closest friend. She has the sweetest boyfriend ever, well when he isn't with his friends, and is always there for me. Angela is my other friend. She's kind to me, but doesn't hang out with me much. She has a front to keep. They are both cheerleaders, of course, and are liked by everyone. When they are with me, people are careful about what they say about me. But, when I am alone, it all comes out.

It isn't just at school that I get yelled at, it's everywhere. If I go out shopping, or for a walk, people have to make comments about me. I have gotten used to taking my iPod touch with me everywhere, turning it up high so I don't hear their nasty comments.

My family, the Swans, doesn't have much money. I mean, we have enough to get by, but we can't always have the nice things that everyone else has. My father, Charlie, is the chief of police in our small town, Forks. My mother is a daycare helper. Money doesn't flow into our home like it does with everyone else in this town. But, we get by; we have no choice.

Any spare money we do get goes to my twin brother for football. He's on the Forks' team and everyone loves him. He's 'popular' and a total ladies' man. He, unlike me, takes after our father. Charlie was athletic and fit in his teens. Emmett got all the good genes.

We live in a small, three bedroom house. I try not to leave my room when I'm home. Charlie converted the loft for me, so Emmett could have his own room and a room for all of his gym equipment. I didn't mind giving up my room when I was ten, but now that I'm seventeen, I'm fed up with climbing up and down the stairs all the time. It's bad enough that I walk to school every day. With all the exercise I do, you would think I would lose weight. Nope, doesn't happen.

With a sigh, I start to climb the steps to my bedroom. Emmett has his friends coming over, so I have to stay in my bedroom. It's Saturday, and both Charlie and Renee are working overtime. Emmett's friends know I am his sister; they just don't accept it or like it.

The steps to my room are through Emmett's gym, so I can come and go as I please without getting in anyone's way. When Emmett's friends come around, they stay in the living room and kitchen, eating all of our food. I don't go down to the first floor when they are here; I refuse to be belittled in my own house. This house is my safe place.

Standing by my bed, I look into the mirror on my vanity table. Closing my eyes, I pull my baggy t-shirt off. I drop my jogging bottoms and step out of them, kicking them to the side. When I open my eyes, I try to hold down the bile that rises. I take my pointer finger and poke the bulge that sits on my hip. Going lower, I squeeze my thigh, not being able to feel the muscle under my skin. Moving my am to the side, I wave it and see all the fat wobble.

I squeeze my eyes shut and turn away from the mirror, silent tears running down my cheeks. I will never be pretty like the other girls in my school. I will never be thin enough to get a boyfriend. Nobody wants someone bigger that a size twelve. My chest contracts and I clutch at it with my hand. A sob leaves my lips and I sit on the bed, putting my clothes back on.

When I am fully dressed again, I walk to the vanity and pick up my hair brush, running it through my long brown hair. That is the only thing that could even be considered pretty about me. My hair is what I get compliments on when I am with family, besides the people I live with. They say I get it from Charlie, but I don't see that.

Putting the brush down, I get up and go over to the phone that is ringing on the bedside table. I answer it, my voice cheerful as always. The thing about me is I hide what I feel. I laugh about it, saving the tears for when I get home. I tell everyone it doesn't bother me, when all I feel is hurt and disgust towards myself.

The voice of my mother floats down the phone, asking me to start dinner for us. My blood runs cold at the thought of going down there, but I agree before saying goodbye and hanging up. I go down the steps and down the main stairs. I hear the chatter coming from the living room, but I ignore it, looking straight to my destination.

Like it? Hate it? Do you want more?

This story may or may not be emotional for you. To me, this will be hard to write. I only aim to please my readers and I hope you all like this. I have Twitter, the link is on my profile so maybe follow me?

Thanks for reading.