Chapter 1 – These things will change

I found out, in 2009, that I had cancer, and only had 6 months to live. That was 2 months ago, so I only have 4 months left. An adult of 20 or above would have been emotionally capable of withholding this piece of information, but, at the tender age of 17, my essence was halted in it's path. It was at that moment that I just... gave up. I stopped talking, eating, smiling, laughing. I stopped living. I used to say that life is what's worth living for. I would say it every time someone was upset, or angry. It was my motto, and I lived by it religiously. But with bad news, come bad changes.

I changed, in every way possible. I stripped my hair of all blonde, turning me into the mahogany haired beauty that I once was, before I lost myself to popularity. I stopped eating, losing the lovely curves and boobs that had earned me head-cheerleader. I lost all life in my eyes, steering me away from my ex-bubbly persona. I'm no longer Issy… I'm Bella.

And everyone is just going to have to get used to it, whether they like it or not.

Of course, with my new identity, came a new location. When my life lost meaning to me, it lost meaning to my mother as well. She started spending more time with my step-father, Phil, and less time with me. I think she thought that if she acted like I was no longer there, alive, it would be easier when it became reality. I'm going to lose more than just my life to cancer. I'm going to lose the one person who is genetically programmed to love me.

Which is why I am in Forks, Washington, looking out the window, watching the rain run down the frosted-over glass, tracing the patterns created by the water with my finger. My father had eagerly offered me his home, and I "happily" accepted. I had shipped my car, clothes and other belongings to America before I had left England, which is why I was sitting in the backseat of my father's stretch limo. I guess this was just something I was going to have to get used to now, living with one of the richest men in the country.

Even though I was no longer a girl with a long life ahead of her, I still enjoyed the small things. Like the love I felt for my father, Charlie, and brother, Emmett. But also my material things. I'm not a material girl, but I love my car like I had given birth to it, as well as my clothes and shoes. There's just something about being able to control something in my life that gives me a tiny spark of happiness, therefore I will hold onto it for dear life.

I had always had amazing fashion sense, good enough to have it on the front of American magazines, whenever they could get a photo of me on the very few times I'm in America. My father's famous, which means it is my "right of passage" to be famous. He tries to keep me out of it, but never succeeds. I'm Charlie Swans daughter, temporary citizen.

I have been working myself up to coming here for weeks now. I know that if I rock up to live with him and act the same way I was at Renee's, he will freak and most likely put me into catatonic facilities, so I have trained myself to show emotion, with extreme effort. I try so hard to force myself to smile that I get tears in my eyes, and I know that's not good at all. But I can't help it. I'm going to die. And it will be slow and painful, with nothing to stop it and nothing for me to try for but Dad and Emmett.

I guess your probably thinking that I should make the most lf what little time I have left, and I tried. But it's too hard. It's easier if I distance myself from the people who love me, so they won't miss me so much when I'm gone.

Of course, they did say that there was a five percent chance of me making it through this. Maybe I'll get lucky and be in that 5 percent. If that were to happen, I know what I'd do with my life. I'd make the best of every little thing there is. But the chances are small.

I had gotten over the fact that I was dying a while ago, but that didn't mean is wasn't upset. I am. I will probably always be. Who wouldn't be, I've done almost nothing with my life. Sure, I've had boyfriends, been head-cheerleader and all that, but I haven't done anything I can be truly proud of. Nothing I will look back on before I die and smile.

So I guess in some ways I should be doing something about it. But my body can't find the effort to go somewhere, do something. I had briefly considered finding the love of my life before I died, but that would be no help. We'd fall in love, and another person would be hurt when I died. So it's better for me to stay alone.

But if it does come to the time that the doctors tell me that I'm getting better, I'm planning on wasting no time in finding the one, and settling down with him. I can't trust myself to be alone after all of this, so it will be better for me if I have someone by my side, someone I love. This had always been my plan, and nothing was going to come in my way.

Well, I thought nothing was going to. That was until I showed up at school the next day.