Bella - Present

I adjusted my duffel bag a little higher on my shoulder, staring up at the large gray building.

The words Seattle Law Enforcement Academy were emblazoned prominently.

I squared my chin and strode forward purposefully.

Towards the one place I knew I was meant to be.

Bella - Past

Twelve Years Ago

I was thirsty.

I knew that Mom had made a fresh batch of cherry kool-aid while she cleaned up the kitchen after dinner.

Despite the air conditioning in our little house, I was still hot. Summer had come to Forks and for once, I missed the rain.

My t-shirt stuck to my back and my hair was matted to my forehead.

At a very mature ten years old, I knew that I wasn't supposed to get back up after going to bed, but I wanted that kool-aid so badly!

My parents would never have to know, especially if I made sure to skip the squeaky step. I wouldn't get in trouble, and I would still be able to go shooting with my dad the next day. He always held that over my head to make sure I minded the rules.

Dad said that if I kept shooting as well as I have been, he'd enter me in the Junior Marksmen Tournament at the Hunting Lodge.

According to him, "It would do the local boys good to get some stiff competition from little Bella Swan."

We'll have to keep it our little secret though, since besides shooting, I'm awfully clumsy.

My Mom would have a heart attack if she knew Dad took me target shooting during daddy and daughter time every week.

My mind made up, I slowly got out of bed and slid my door open.

I made my way downstairs and into the kitchen, proud that I had successfully managed my mission so far.

I took out the kool-aid, deciding it would be best to just drink from the pitcher so there wouldn't be a glass left out as evidence. My dad would be proud that I'd thought it through.

And besides, Dad drank from the pitcher whenever Mom wasn't around. Like father, like daughter, I mused gleefully, gulping the sweet juice down for a good ten seconds.

I put the pitcher back in the fridge, hoping no one would notice that there was a bit less than there should be.

I was just about to go back up the stairs when I heard a noise.

Holy Crow, I thought, immediately skulking over the the kitchen pantry. As long as Mom or Dad didn't turn the light on, I wouldn't get caught.

I waited in silence for a few moments before I heard the squeaky step. I was confused, it sounded like someone was going up the stairs, rather than down.

Maybe Dad didn't really quit smoking after all and had sneaked out for a cigarette after Mom went to sleep?

More silence. I edged closer to the stairs, and peeked around the wall and up. The moonlight from the bay window reflected right into the hallway.

I saw a a tall man, with dirty blond hair creeping towards the bedrooms. I froze. My daddy had brown hair.

Stay calm. Stay calm. Call for help. I backed away slowly towards the telephone next to the refrigerator. My trembling fingers dialed three digits, and I slid down into a ball on the floor as the call connected.

"911, What is your emergency?"

"It's Bella. Someone's in the house."

"Bella, sweetie? Where's the Chief?"

"Upstairs. They're both sleeping." I whispered to Mrs. Cope, the dispatcher.

"Bella, listen to me very carefully. Get out of the house. As quickly and quietly as you can."

"I have to wake them up."

"No! Bella, get out of the house. Help is coming, sweetheart. I promise."

I hung up the phone. I did what Mrs. Cope said to. I left the house and headed straight into my dad's shed at the back of our property. Where I'd be safe.

I locked the door behind me and closed my eyes.

I don't really remember how much time passed. It could have been hours.

Somehow, I wasn't surprised when the shed door burst open. It felt almost like I'd been expecting it.

The man in front of me was covered in blood. It was all over his ratty clothes, skin, and hair, turning the blond into a gory kind of pink.

I'll never forget the look in his eyes. Most people will go their whole lives without looking into that kind of crazy, and as the knowledge of it entered my conscious mind, I knew I'd never be the same.

He wasn't surprised to see me. He must have watched me run to the shed while he was butchering my parents with the long jagged knife he know held before me.

No, he wasn't surprised to see me.

He was, however, surprised by my father's nine millimeter and its current location, clutched in my two suddenly steady hands.

I'd like to think the five rounds I unloaded into his chest and head surprised him as well.

End Prologue