Just for the record….. Twilight is owned by Stephanie Meyers and not by me. I'm making no money or anything else off of this. Also, the situation will make more sense as it goes on.
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Being forced into a seriously hideous purple van that smelled like flat beer and sweat wasn't my main problem. My main problem was where I was being sent, the grand epitome of civilization called Forks. For those that walked into this quiet little village they might think, "Hey! Where has the sun gone?" or "So that's why the people of Forks don't get skin cancer!"
These were the thoughts that crossed my mind when I, half sedated, was driven by a extremely obese man into this little spot of bland grayness. My crime that brought me here, hiding a gun for my friend that his father would probably have used to kill him after he came out of the closet. I myself didn't see the problem, until my parents found the 9mm under my bed.
Reasoning with them and trying to tell them a lie, because my friend doesn't want to be outed to the whole population of the town, didn't work well. And after my friends dear old father's gun was returned to him, I was swiftly sent away to a "rehabilitation" clinic for the "slightly hostile", that's what my moronic parents called it, on a reservation. Which also seemed to be grey, only with a much more rustic feeling. After a few more hours, and a serious need to urinate, I was at my sponsors house. It wasn't great, but considering the other houses I had seen in the area, it might as well have been a luxury hotel.
The fat man, now pushing me out from the van and mumbling obscenities, then unlocked my handcuffs, threw my baggage out the back, gave me very brief instructions, and left. "Fatass!" I screamed at the car, now trying to stretch out the kinks in my legs. Now I'm not as naïve as someone of my age should be, so I know my new….. Guardians probably wouldn't be as nice as I would have hoped. So, walking up to the front door, I simply left my stuff right in front and decided that if I wanted to see the town before my "rehabilitation" phase would start, now was my chance.
So, leaving my luggage, I simply walked away from the house, almost admiring a sign in the yard. It had a man's name, Sam, and maybe someone else's, though it was worn away. I then took a long walk into the town, coming from the direction that I thought the fat man had taken me. But it was kind of scary. If the lack of sun and the debilitating weather weren't enough, There seemed to be some men following me. I, being the great cop show tv hog at my old residence, knew that it wasn't going to be good. Reading the papers, small towns always seemed to have the most bullying and weird crap happen. So all in all, three men with matching haircuts and a "me smash puny outsider" appearance weren't the greatest way to start your day in a sun anemic hell hole.
My only option was clear though, so I bolted, running in between a building and ducking down into a alley, which with my very stunted luck was a dead end. Turning around, I saw them near the entrance to the alley, looking annoyed, though not out of breath. "Damnit" I swore, and then saw one grin. "Well, I guess there's no helping it!" That said I got into a fighting stance.