Musical Suggestion: Empire State of Mind II Broken Down - Alicia Keys

AN: New Story - let me know what you think, anonymous comments are allowed (if you, however, want me to reply, leave a name or an e-mail), constructive criticism only please. Also, I will be posting chapters according to charcter POV, meaning some may be VERY short, but I will try to keep those to a minimum. Love and some great shoes ♥

Alice

I couldn't believe where I was.

Actually, I could believe where I was, I just didn't want to.

I should have seen it coming; it was only a matter of time before Esme caught wind of my living alone. It all happened so fast. Just last week I was sipping Patron at my family's condominium in New York City with a few friends, living my life as if it hadn't been severely fucked, and the next I was being swept off to fucking Washington to live with my aunt, her husband and his two adoptive sons, whom of which I have never met before in my life.

It was definitely my ideal situation. Not.

As I lifted myself up from my seat I immediately felt a draft of cold air against my skin. It wasn't until I had reached the door of the plane did I realize there was a set of stairs wheeled up to the side of the plane. The only time I had ever had to climb down from a plane was when we went to the Turks and Caicos and due to the pouring rain and the bone-chilling temperature; it was obvious I was not there. I groaned as the person in front of me stepped down into the disgusting weather and I hesitated. The man behind me cleared his throat rather loudly, indicating that I was holding him up. I, however, did not give a damn.

"Give-" I turned around swiftly to meet the face of the impatient man, "me a minute."

I then took a deep breath and pulled the hood of my Prada parka up over my head before walking out of plane and into hell. Once I reached the shelter of the tiny airport I was met with crabbier, terribly dressed passengers and a linoleum floor that had not been mopped since the dark ages. Since I was so familiar with various different airports around the world I navigated myself with ease to the baggage terminal where I knew Esme and her husband would be waiting. Much to my surprise, however, Esme was nowhere to be found, which was very unlike her; she had never heard of being fashionably late. Irritated I stood and waited for my luggage. I looked around once more; being sure I didn't miss my aunt. All I saw was an entirely too-obese woman – I was having a heart attack just looking at her – a group of soldiers, an older couple and a large family with what sounded like a dozen screaming kids. I sighed and turned back around. For a moment I felt myself beginning to choke; this was not me, or my life, or the life I was supposed to be living. I had lost everything; my family, my home, my city, and my dignity. All I wanted was to be back in New York, walking down 5th avenue, with my mother, sipping on lattes on our way to check out the new Miu Miu line or to get our weekly pedicure. That, however, was no longer possible.

The memory rushed through me so fast I couldn't even start reciting the Japanese alphabet in my head to stop it. I remembered sitting in my room doing my homework a year ago. Thomas, our butler came into my room with tears welling in the corner of his eyes. I remembered laughing and making fun of him for watching The Notebook again. When he just looked at his feet I knew something was wrong. He then told me that there had been an accident. My father, who was an ambassador for the United Nations, was on his way to the airport in Dubai along with my mother to catch their flight home when the car was hijacked and they were both murdered. In that moment I felt as if I were in the car with them. I saw my mother fixing her lipstick in her gold encrusted pocket mirror and my father talking on his Blackberry to someone about how successful his trip was. I felt the car stop at an intersection, I heard the glass breaking, even felt the shards cut my skin. I heard my mother scream and saw my father remove his gun from the holster on his belt. I felt the men hold me down. I even saw the gun being held to my face. I heard the trigger click and everything stopped.

Everyday since the same vision enveloped my senses, each time getting a little worse. I had been entrusted to my aunt Esme but since she couldn't leave Washington because of her husband's profession I was being taken care of by Thomas and the maid, Marsha. Esme came in for the funeral and left shortly thereafter. The visions, however, didn't stop. Before I could comprehend what they were I was being sent off to the Ostroff center for troubled youth and put in the care of the professionals. I was there for eight months. The visions had subsided a little, and I was no longer tearing the skin from my arms – the medication made sure of that – but they were still terrible. When I escaped my vision I was standing in the airport again breathing heavily and wiping the tears from my face.

No one had noticed my anguish.

I looked around once more and noticed two new figures standing by the doors that lead out of the terminal. One was an older man, extremely distinguished looking, wearing an impeccably fitted, khaki, suit that appeared to be a Boss design but it was hard to tell from this far back. He had short blonde hair and a caring smile on his face. Next to him was a rather large young man, roughly my age, maybe a bit older, with brown hair and wearing jeans and a NY Giants sweatshirt. They appeared to be looking for someone and when they looked my way I turned my face back to the baggage claim. God, how long was this going to take? I longed for my Juicy couture sweats and a bed. I remember informing Esme on the phone that if the accommodations were not up to par I would promptly leave and be on the next flight back to New York. She, however, assured me that it would definitely be up to my standards and reminded me that her husband was a doctor. She also told me that I was not going to live by myself as I was only sixteen years old and I needed 'proper' guidance. That and the fact it was near impossible to say no to Esme; no regular person was that fucking nice, it was scary.

I jumped as the buzzer sounded on the baggage claim. When I looked up I noticed that the two men I had seen moments earlier were walking right towards me. I hastily attempted to open my Chanel clutch and find my iPhone so it appeared as if I were doing something and not staring like a freak. As the men got closer I stared intently at my phone as it was turning on. Once it was on a message from Esme popped up:

"My husband, Carlisle, and stepson will be waiting for you at the airport love. I'll see you when you get home. Love Esme."

"Alice Brandon?" The well-dressed man asked once they reached me. I looked at them for a moment before answering.

"Yes. Hi?" I must have looked like an idiot.

"I'm Carlisle Cullen, Esme's husband, and this is my son Emmett." The brute waved.

"I thought by wearing the Giants sweater you would have seen us." Emmett joked. I then caught what he had meant. Clever giant.

"Not so much." I bit my lip and remembered my manners, hoping they had not seen my little breakdown. "But yes, I am Alice. I thought Esme was coming to pick me up?"

"She was but she had some last minute things to get ready at home before your arrival." Carlisle spoke eloquently. I was completely mesmerized by his finesse and refinement. I was immediately impressed considering I had spent hours on a plane and in an airport filled with America's finest breed. "And she informed us you would need help with your luggage. She said something about possibly needing a tanker to carry it all."

"I packed light don't worry." I laughed, "I only had to pay for four extra cases." I was proud at that accomplishment. Usually it was at least five. Emmett's eyebrows shot through the roof and he laughed boisterously. We waited in a comfortable silence as the various cases rolled by us. I noticed the first of my two Louis Vuitton hard-sided suitcases and rushed to grab it once I realized I did not have a chauffeur to do it for me. Just as I was about to attempt to lift it, Emmett grabbed the handle and hoisted it off the belt as if it weighed nothing.

"Something tells me these weigh more than you do, so just point them out to me." Emmett elbowed my playfully, but almost knocked me over. I'm not sure he knew his own strength. I blushed and nodded. I guess he was as good as any chauffeur. I always felt sorry for when an older gentleman was sent to pick me up at airports; I feared they would go into cardiac arrest just lifting my cases off the belt. After a few more minutes of watching the luggage roll by I pointed out the second case and then the matching roller-case. Lastly I saw the make-up case, which I grabbed myself.

"Alright, lets be on our way then." Carlisle took the roller-case and the matching duffel that I had used for my carry-on.

"No!" I remembered one last thing. My trunk. "We need to go to the over-sized baggage counter. I still have my trunk." I sheepishly informed them. Emmett raised his eyebrows again and led me towards the doorway that led to the oversized-baggage claim. I saw my beloved Louis Vuitton trunk behind the counter and found the claim papers from my clutch. I should have matched the clutch with the rest of my luggage; they probably thought I was an idiot. Once the trunk was back in my possession I turned to face Carlisle and Emmett. "We can go now."

Carlisle smiled and looked at Emmett. "It's a good thing we brought the Hummer."

I ended up rolling out my one suitcase while Emmett physically carried my trunk to their car and Carlisle carried the rest. I was completely dumbfounded. That trunk was ridiculous. I remembered when my family sailed over to Greece two years ago that trunk had to craned onto the ship.

"So this is you packing light, huh?" exclaimed Emmett as he hoisted the trunk into the back of a large, red Hummer.

"Yes," I said, entirely confused. "Esme told me to pack only what I would need for the week. The truck is supposed to get here on Saturday right?" I began to panic. He wasn't insinuating that the truck was going to be late, was he?

Carlisle chuckled, "Yes, that's the plan." He then looked at Emmett, who did not say another thing about my luggage.

The entire ride home Carlisle and Emmett questioned me on my favorite things and what I liked doing. Carlisle asked me what my post secondary aspirations were and Emmett hounded me in regards to what my favorite baseball and football teams were, neither of which I had a solid answer two. Carlisle informed me that they enrolled me in Forks High School that morning and that's when I saw the sign entering the city. 'Welcome to Forks: Population 3520.' I was immediately disturbed. I had never lived anywhere with a population less than seven hundred thousand. Carlisle directed the Hummer throughout the small town and everyone seemed to stare. Who stares at a Hummer? The buildings were old and square and there were more pick-ups and flannel than I felt comfortable with. It was almost offensive to my senses and I suddenly felt that my not matching my Chanel clutch to the rest of my Louis Vuitton luggage was not such a big deal. How could Esme live here? The pit of my stomach was beginning to grow into a watermelon as I thought of where I would have to travel to find a decent boutique. It was all too depressing. Thank the heavens for online shopping; I'd need it now.

We continued driving to what seemed to be the end of the town – roughly five blocks – and into more tree-lined road for another ten minutes until Carlisle pulled onto a side road and up a winding driveway. I held my breath and closed my eyes, terrified of where I might be living. I didn't open my eyes until I heard Emmett jump out of the Hummer yelling, "Welcome Home Baby Sis!"

What I was met with was anything but disappointment, much to my surprise and delight. The house was stunning. It was a massive, taupe-stucco, post-modernist with a touch of colonial style construction with more windows than I could count including one large bay window that seemed to reveal at least two floors of the house. The doors were large and white and were decorated with elaborate finishing and detail. Carlisle and Emmett took my luggage into the house and gestured me through the door. Inside was just as elaborately finished and beautifully decorated. The high-vaulted ceilings were complimented with off-white walls and black, wrought-iron railings and curtain rods. The furniture seemed to be right out of the Pottery Barn catalogue and the house smelt of freshly baked cookies. Once everything was in the house we were greeted with my Aunt Esme rushing from the kitchen, apron still on and pin curls perfectly still on her head. She took me in her arms in a tight squeeze and squealed like a five-year-old. She might have had the appearance of a Stepford wife but on the inside she was a soft as the cookies that just came out of the oven.

"I am SO glad you are here Alice! Was the trip okay? Did you find Carlisle and Emmett quickly?" Esme bombarded me with questions and she ushered me into the kitchen where there was an array of fresh fruit, cheese and crackers freshly prepared as well as her famous double-chocolate chip cookies, still steaming. The oranges were cut into swans and the apples were cut into shapes resembling water lilies. It was absolutely exquisite. "I know you are not a meal-eater so I prepared some snacks for us. Is there anything you need sweetie? A shower? Some soup? I have some vegetable soup made fresh from my garden if you'd prefer. No meat, I can assure you, are you still vegetarian?" The distressed look on her face was so hysterical I had to laugh.

"Apart from the rain the trip was fine, they found me actually, the snacks look amazing – you are going to have to teach me how to cut oranges like that – as do the cookies, I'll take a shower later, I am still vegetarian, yes, and the only thing I need is direction to your powder room." I was almost out of breath. Esme smiled; relieved I'm sure, and pointed around the corner. I followed her direction and excused myself into the powder room. My hair was a mess from travelling and it looked like I hadn't slept in days. Once I cleaned myself up I felt like a new person and rejoined everyone in the kitchen. Emmett had already dug in to the massive heap of food that Esme had prepared and was slurping out of a hearty helping of the vegetable soup, which smelled absolutely delectable. To say they welcomed me with open arms was an understatement; it was the first time I had felt at home in a long time. If I couldn't have my parents, well, I guess living with Esme was the next best thing. The moment, however, I thought of my parents I had to hold my breath and recite some Virgilian prose in Latin, "Arma virumque cano, Troiae qui primus ab oris Italiam, fato profugus, Laviniaque venit litora, multum ille et terris iactatus et alto…"

"So, darling, would you like some soup?" Esme asked, interrupting my reciting of the first book of the Aeneid.

"Yes, please." I answered after a moment and took one of the elaborately carved oranges from the platter. She must have bought them from an independent market because they were sweeter than any oranges I had ever tasted. Just as Esme placed a small bowl of soup in front of me, another boy walked into the kitchen. He was closer to my age than Emmett was, had mess of coppery brown hair and the greenest eyes. He was tall and built, but not as brutish as Emmett. Attached to his hip was a pale, skinny girl with long, chestnut brown hair. She was decked out in some drab ensemble with no make-up. It was a shame because she wasn't completely unfortunate looking. I think she noticed me eyeing her because she immediately blushed and looked to her feet.

"Alice," Carlisle spoke, wiping his mouth of soup, "This is my other son, Edward and his girlfriend Bella. They are your age." I smiled and waved hoping to illicit some friendly response from either of them.

"Welcome." Edward greeted simply and Bella just smiled. I figured that would be the most enthusiastic response from either of them. So far, Emmett was my favorite pseudo-brother by a long shot. At least he acknowledged my existence. Everyone spoke casually of things I had no idea about. Emmett attempted to fill me in when he could but I was fine listening in for the most part. They continued to ask me questions and I continued to answer them dutifully. Not once, however, did anyone mention the center or me living by myself, or anything about New York for that matter; just the occasional question that pertained to my favorite places and activities. Carlisle had informed me that he had a love for the city and once lived there for a few months but quickly found a love for a more-rural America.

"Don't worry darling," Esme assured, "I know this isn't your fancy but it'll grow on you." I wasn't so sure of that so I just smiled and nodded. Once everyone was finished eating Edward and Bella excused themselves and Esme cleared away all the dishes before I could even offer to help – not like I had ever done dishes in my life, however, it just seemed like the mannerly thing to do. It was going to take a little to get used to the fact I no longer had Marsha or Thomas at my back and call. I felt a tug in my heart for a moment; they had been employed by my parents for as long as I could remember and leaving them was like leaving grandparents behind. Before I could even start to choke up, Esme and Emmett were ushering me out of the kitchen and up the grand staircase to what I assumed would be my bedroom. They reached the end of the open hallway that looked over the living room and the foyer and opened a set of double-doors to a seemingly empty bedroom. There was a mattress on the floor and my things beside it.

"Wow Esme, you've really outdone yourself." I exclaimed sarcastically as I stood rigidly in the doorway.

"I know you have… different tastes so we figured you would want to take the reigns in designing your own room. If you want we can wait until your bedroom furniture gets here or we can start fresh, whichever you prefer." Emmett was still standing there with a smile on his face and Esme looked at me, hopeful I would be enthusiastic about this project, and I was. There was nothing I dreaded more than a colorless guest suit that would make me feel even farther from home. I was already conjuring up paint ideas and techniques and… I had to get started right away. I looked at my silver Tiffany watch and then at Emmett, who was now staring at me with an odd expression plastered on his face. It was confirmed; he definitely thought I was insane.

"Come on Emmett," I commanded with authority, even though my 4"10 was nothing compared to his 6"5. "We've got some paint to buy."

He slapped his arms to his sides, straightened his posture and saluted me diligently. "Aye aye captain!"

I was beginning to enjoy this character more than I had anticipated.