S u m m a r y --- Bella Swan has been living a lie. And as the past begins to unfold into the present, she's forced to confront the sister who left her and the lies her parents told her. If you squint real hard you'll be able to catch the crossover. So squint. For those of you who are less inclined in the art of the squint, the cross shall be revealed later in the story.

D i s c l a i m e r --- I own absolutely nothing except for some plot elements and Red Vines. So don't sue.

P r o l o g u e --- A T E N T I O N

Ultimately it's the crunch of glass that sets me off.

The contours of the room dip and change, the stark white walls becoming cityscape in the distance.

Suddenly, I'm in a car and reliving this moment for the umpteenth time. I've stopped breathing.

I'm humming to myself, a French song that Mirabelle taught me to further my near perfect knowledge language. I'm looking at my hands, not at my parents, who are in the front seat.

Not at my father who is driving, nor my mother who is riding shotgun.

If I had been looking at my parents than I would have seen this coming, seen the exact moment that the front part of the cab separated from the rest of the car. Seen the exact moment that my parents were torn from me, literally and metaphorically.

But instead, unaware of the significance of this moment, I am looking at my hands. My head bowed because I really, really don't want to look at my parents.

What I really want to see are the comforting visions of the future. Of ocher eyes and happiness. But lately? My visions, like everything else, have deserted me.

I'm humming to myself, an Italian tune spilling from between my lips. Mirabella has also taught me this one.

My visions aren't the only things that have left me to my own devices. I haven't seen my sister (in RL or in the future) for a week. It's like she's trying to distance herself, now, so that the imminent separation hurts less.

So preoccupied I am with my music and my hands and my thinking that I remain oblivious to the occurrences outside of our vehicle.

A ghost vision tingles my senses and I squint my eyes to cajole clarity to the cloud of smoke that has taken over my sight. The ghost vision is gone as quickly as it arrives and leaves filled with trepidation.

Earlier this morning, my sister was walking out of our house, if you could call it that, with a back pack full of money and clothes and food. She barely even said two words for me, her sister. With a mumbled good bye, no love you, she left, claiming she was going to hang out with some friends.

My parents think that she's at the park. I think that she's probably halfway to the United States right now.

One moment I am looking at my hands, humming to myself softly, trying to coax the ghost vision back to my eyes, the seat and my parents in my peripherals. The next we are colliding with a semi and I am squeezing my lids closed and my hands are cupped tightly to my ears.

If I had been paying attention, I might have noticed that this semi wasn't anywhere near our vehicle. That the semi completed an illegal u-turn in the middle of the intersection, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake. That the driver's eyes bled black as night. That he barreled towards us full speed ahead.

But I am not paying attention. And the next thing I know I sent flying into empty space. The space where the driver seat should be. Where my parents should be. The seat belt snaps me back into place, flinging my body against the back of the car.

The air in my lungs escapes with a whoosh and I grasp my head to the hands, suffering from a major case of whiplash.

I register the sounds of an explosion in the distance and I can hear children crying and the blare of sirens far off in the distance.

Shakily, I click open my seat belt. Noticing that this gigantic semi truck, this truck that has completely demolished the front portion of the car has spared me. Has left the back half of the BMW untouched completely.

I'm walking on wobbly legs, trying to find the front portion of my parent's vehicle, trying to find my parents.

Wanting to see, to see anything, with my third eye, with the two eyes on my head. Wanting to see my parents.

And even now I'm not paying attention. Not really. Not to the pileup of cars created in the semi's wake. Not to the screaming or the crying or the yelling or the pleading.

I'm so focused on finding the front half of that BMW that I don't pay attention to the way that the semi driver, whose eyes are black as night, crawls from the funeral pyre he's driven into my parents. The way that his skin reconnects and stitches itself back together. The way that he should be dead but he's walking away.

When I find them, my parents are several meters away from other half of the BMW. Lying on the asphalt.

I've been ignoring everything around me in favor of finding my parents. When really, I should have been ignoring my parents instead.

My mom has a large chunk of glass protruding from her face from where her head broke through the glass on the passenger side door. She's clawing at it with her manicured fingernails. The skin breaks and tears. Imagine that scene from Bloody Mary, where the girl takes off her own face.

My head is in my hands and I'm crying and wishing that I could have 'gone to the park' with Abbie, my older sister, instead. I'm instantly furious that she left me, knowing our parents as intimately as she does. Confused as to why she didn't take me as well. Mostly, betrayal overwhelms me. And nausea.

I'm wishing the scent of blood was stronger, wishing my body would crumple to the floor. Wishing I could ignore my parents as well as they could ignore me.

My dad doesn't have a face either. It's smeared over the black asphalt.

I'm not paying attention, not to anything except for the sight of my parents dead before me, feeling nothing. Numb.

I am not paying attention to the way that mouth of the driver opens and black billowy smoke spills out into the air. His unharmed body convulsing.

I am, however, paying attention to the fact that that ghost of a vision returns unbidden into my mind. I am paying attention to the images before me dancing behind my closed lids.

And I am eternally grateful that I am spared, but dread fills my limbs, making my movements and my vision sluggish.

I have survived this dreadful crash that has eliminated my parents. But to what cost?

When I come to and the cityscape transforms to white walls once more, Alice is worriedly waving a hand in front of my face. Edward is lightly shaking my shoulders. Rosalie, wearing her eight inch heels is sweeping up the crushed bowl and salad at her feet and sneering at me.

The Cullen's are all looking at me, confused, wondering where I went. And I am overwhelmed and simultaneously reminded why Edward and I can never be together.

Things were so much simpler when Bella Swan could distance herself from my reality. But as Edward and his family are quickly proving, Isabella and Bella and Anne and my past and my present can't coexist peacefully.

And I do what the women in my family do best, I run.

And I am not paying attention, to anyone or anything but myself.

For if I had been, paying attention that is, I would have noticed the flash of hurt that contorted Edward's Adonis-like features. The way the sneer on Rosalie's face seemed to soften, her features evening out. The way Alice seemed to be looking out into the distance, her gaze far away and beyond the present.

And truly, if I had been paying attention, I would have noticed the man standing in the forest surrounding the Cullen's property. I would have noticed the scentless man, standing there. I would have noticed the way that his deep blue eyes were enveloped in a film of yellow.

I would have noticed that he stood by a scentless little girl whose eyes were without pupils, as if she had rolled them to the back of her head.

If I was paying attention, I maybe would have seen this. I maybe would have seen the way that her eyes were glowing white.