Chapter 1

Disclaimer: SM owns "The Twilight Saga".

~Lilith's POV~

Each morning I wake up. Each morning I pull on some skinny jeans, mismatch socks, a tank top, my combat boots of two years, and my navy blue hoodie that I got at some reservoir party. Sue Clearwater sold my older brother, and my guardian, Kyle, two of the hoodies. Kyle sent my mom one in the mental hospital and gave the other to me.

After I shimmy into my clothes, I go into my bathroom, thank the gods there's two and I don't have to share with Kyle, and I wash my face, brush my teeth, deodorize, and put my hair into a messy bun. Then I take a moment to stare at my reflection. I'm a true Quileute.

I'm thin, tall, and have tan skin. My features are sharp with high cheekbones. I have straight, dark brown hair that goes just past my shoulders, and brown eyes framed by long eyelashes. I have large sized breasts, and a slim waist. I have the body type of most of the Quileute woman in La Push.

I look exactly like my mom. Mom's a gorgeous woman, despite the slight wrinkles she has around her eyes and mouth, signaling all the time she does smiling. At least all the time she used to do smiling. Two years ago, Mom was committed to a mental hospital and diagnosed with Schizophrenia. She claimed she saw one of the locals, Jacob Black, turn into a wolf. Jacob, the asshole, called her a crazy bitch. The doctors say that the local legends got to her head. And now Kyle's my guardian. We visit Mom every Saturday. It gots Kyle freaked out that the disease, although I refuse to believe that Mom's actually Schizophrenic—she was just under too much stress, is passed down through generation since my Grandma Polly had Schizophrenia. Once every two months, Kyle and I both talk to a specialist about everything that's been going on and they let Kyle know whether or not this should happen or that should happen. I find it very stupid, if you ask me.

The next step on my routine is to go to the kitchen and have Kyle complain about how I never eat, and he's worried about me.

"Kyle, I do too eat. I just don't eat in the morning. What I do is I don't eat anything till 3:45," which is when I get out of school. "And then I eat everything in sight. It's a diet, read up on it," I inform him while checking the time on the microwave, which read 7:57. I leave at eight every morning since school started at eight thirty. Kyle gives me the look. The look is the parental look he's grown to have ever since he gained custody of me. It drives me nuts, but I've managed to perfect my own look. The teenager look that signifies that even if I'm standing there, I'm not listening. Kyle was about to start running his mouth again, but I beat him to it.

"Oh look at the time! I got to get to school, bro, see you later." With those words, I grab my backpack and leave. I wait on my front yard for what seems like thirty years before my best friend, Tate, pulls up in his Harley Davidson.

"Hop on!" He calls, it slightly muffled through his helmet. I don't have a helmet, despite this being my ride everywhere unless Kyle's driving me. I'm absolutely clueless to the driving world, besides motorcycles, but Kyle won't purchase me one because of the financial troubles we have. Kyle wants me to get a helmet, but I just like the feeling of the wind rushing on my face. If I got a helmet, I'd probably look more badass when I pull into the school parking lot, though. I'd rip my helmet off and my hair would slow motion wave in the wind. That would be strikingly awesome.

I wrap my legs over the back of the bike, and squeeze my arms around Tate's waist. I pull my legs up before the rev of the engine signifies that we'd be taking off, and then we're shooting down the road at sixty miles per hour. There are barely any cops in La Push, so Tate and I have experienced plenty of car accidents because we took his bike to an abandoned road and did donuts and sped up and down. I've broken quite a few bones and gotten quite a few concussions due to my reckless behavior and the sense that I'm an adrenaline junkie. Cliff diving, roller coasters, running through the forest at midnight three years ago even though there was a substantial amount of murders happening, I like it all. And it all is probably not entirely good for me, and I'm probably going to get myself killed at an early age, but who cares? Because you have to live in the moment, and living in the moment means you do ridiculous shit to fuel your happiness because otherwise you're going to commit suicide due to the fact that you are not a happy balloon, floating agilely in the air.

If someone could read my mind, I'd be with Mom.

I pull my hood up as the wind hits my face even though I know it's going to slip right back off—which it does. I enjoy the feeling of needles stabbing my face it's so cold, even though when I get off the bike it's going to hurt like a bitch. I enjoy the feeling of knots in my stomach, even though it's a non-desirable feeling. I enjoy all of it until Tate comes to a stop in a parking spot at La Push Reservoir High. Home of the Werewolves, how original. At least we're not Home of the Bats, like Forks High. It's kind of comical actually. Werewolves vs. bats—or vampires—just like the legends go.

"And we have arrived," Tate says, kicking down the bike stand, and prying my hands off from around his waist like he has to do every single time that we ride. It's become a tradition. "Piggy back?" Tate asks, no doubt trying to convince me not to ditch school so I can go do donuts in the parking lot.

"Yes, please," I say. I hop off the bike before leaping onto Tate's back. Tate's my transportation everywhere, even if it isn't in ole Harley Speed, what we named his bike. We begin walking to the school building as Tate strikes up a conversation, like the usual.

"This time, I'm coming with you and Kyle to visit your mom. I miss that lady," he proposes. I grip onto his chin length, black hair.

"Okay, Romeo, if you got a thing for my mom, let me know. I'll support you no matter what, honey," I tease sarcastically. Tate scoffs.

"Please, you're the Juliet in this fantasy," he replies as he deposits me in front of my forest green, chipping locker. I place a hand on my hip.

"So we both commit suicide? How lovely." That's how Tate and I converse most the time, playful bickering. Other times we'll have deep, meaningful conversation, but those times are rare.

"Well, I got to go to class, Blue," Tate says, making sure to use my last name. I scoff and wave at him.

"Leaving your love, how disrespectful!" I go to turn around and enter my locker combination, but my body bumps into a warm, solid figure. I tumble to the floor where I bump my head.

"Ow!" I shout at whoever bumped into me.

"Oh, geez I'm sorry!" I look up at the sound of that voice. Jacob Black. I fix him with a glare as I stare at him. His eyes were wide as he stared back down at me, and his moth was slightly agape—like a fish. Good. He should be scared of me because I just might kick his huge ass.

"You better be sorry, you disrespectful prick! Watch where you're going, asshole," I hiss snarkily. His mouth opens and closes for a while—see, a fish! He bends down and grabs my arm, attempting to help me up.

"Here, let me—"

"No, don't touch me!" I growl out, jerking away from him. He stands up automatically, looking at me with wide eyes. If he wasn't such an asshole and part of the reason that Mom was in a mental hospital, I might suggest that he's hot, because he kind of is. Well, he is. But my mom's in a mental hospital because of him, and then he called her a crazy bitch. I lost all respect for this guy. And the fact that he doesn't even talk to the family afterwards? Who does that? He could have at least apologized for calling her a crazy bitch!

"Sorry. I'm—"

"Yeah, I know who you are, dickhead. Do me a favor and stay away from," I spit out at him. I noticed that we've grown quite the crowd, and Tate stood in the back of it, laughing his ass off. He pushes through, grabs my arm, and yanks me up.

"C'mon, Princess Lilith. Don't need you tearing off Black's head," he says, taking my backpack from me. My blood boiled as I glared at Jacob. And Jacob glared at Tate. And Tate glared at Jacob. We were all in a glaring match it seemed, and I had enough anger to fuel me for miles.

"Don't give him that look! He just saved your ass from a beating, duck rapist!" I shout, stomping my foot at him. His gaze turns to me and he gives me a questionable look.

"Did you just call me a duck rapist?" He asks with a raised eyebrow.

"Damn straight I did!" Tate grabs my arm, yanking me back slightly.

"Calm down, Miss. Anger Management." I ignore him while focusing on Jacob, who was focusing on me. He now shook slightly, and his little posse stood behind him, grabbing his arm.

"Jacob, come on."

"Yeah, Jake, she's not worth it."

"I'm not worth it! Bitch, I'm worth the mother fucking fight! I'll twist your arm, then make you suck your own dick!"

"Lilith, the principal's coming, let's go," Tate says before dragging me away from Jacob, who was still glaring at Tate. When Tate had finally dragged me outside the school, he dropped my arm. "What's your problem, Blue?" He asks me.

"I hate him!" I scream, kicking a tree. My blood was boiling and I felt like running back into the school and curb stomping Jacob Black and then pummeling his posse. It would be so worth getting expelled. Tate grabs my arm and makes me look at him.

"Look, I know you hate him, but you can't just start a riot at school, Lilith. You'll get expelled, and who knows how social services would react to that, huh?" He was starting to ease the anger out of me, and make me think reasonably. I still wanted to bash Black's face into a linoleum floor, but I didn't want to do it at school. See, I'm getting more reasonable.

"Come on, Lilith. We'll drop our backpacks off at your house since Kyle's at work, and then we'll drive aimlessly through Forks till Sheriff Swan pulls us over and lectures us about how this is the billionth time," Tate convinces me. I nod my head.

"Okay, fine, but we get mint 'n chip ice cream," I say. Tate groans.

"Rocky Road!" He whines. I stick my tongue out at him.

"Fine, Rocky Road, but I get to go back and kick Black's ass."

"Mint 'n chip it is!" He sings before hopping to Harley Speed.