Heyyyy everybody! I know I haven't updated any of my other stories since…well, months ago…..but that's because I've been writing this! Seriously, I almost got a detention yesterday in math for writing it instead of paying attention. Ill update FS&RH soon…Starlight probably never, sorry :(

WELLLLLL…..THIS IS MY NEWEST FANFIC, AN IMPRINT STORY! *shocker…*

I settled into my first-class seat on flight 410 to Seattle. I was tempted to run off the plane as fast as humanly possible, but I had to respect my father's wishes.

Oh, and I didn't think I'd be able to run in mid-air for very long.

I'd been living with my dad since I was three, when my mother committed suicide. A few years after, when I was six, my dad was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. He was told he had about six months maximum to live. He lived for another decade.

It was hard, coming home and taking care of my father every day, and I often didn't have time to do my homework assignments. My teachers never blamed me, though, they just gave me extensions. I was their pity pet, and I couldn't do anything to change it. Everyone was aware of my situation, and eventually we were put on welfare. I received free lunches at school, and we used food stamps to buy just about everything. But that only lasted for about two years.

My grandmother died in February when I was a little over nine years old. She had lots of money, and my father was her only child. We got absolutely everything of hers, including her cottage in Boulder, Colorado. That's where we've lived since. I never knew how much money Grandmother left us, but I guessed it was quite a bit considering the car I got for my sixteenth birthday.

A metallic forest green Porsche Panamera Turbo with a chocolate leather interior and a solid bamboo heated steering wheel.

It was my dream car since I was about four, and a few years ago I had even made mine custom online. Apparently my dad had pulled that up and purchased it for me- approximately $216,000. It was strange to think we had gone from living off food stamps to this.

But that was December 12th. Not even a month later, on December 31st, my dad had a stroke. I came home at about 2 am January 1st from a party to find him collapsed on his stomach on the kitchen floor. I rolled him over, praying to the Goddess that he was alive. Thankfully, he was.

"Riley," his voice barely carried above a whisper. He was gasping for each breath. "You're what's kept me alive all this time. I got to see my little girl grow up. But nothing lasts forever…" he gasped in one final breath before giving me a crinkly-eyed smile. His ice blue eyes locked into mine, then unfocused, losing their sparkle.

His heart stopped beating.

I was somehow able to call an ambulance before completely losing it. When they got there, my neighbor and gay best friend, Richi, came bounding outside.

He enveloped me into a tight, warm hug, and I cried hysterically on his shoulder.

"Ryl, baby, what happened?" Richi asked me softly.

"H-he-he's…gone." I finally choked out, sobs racking my entire body.

"Ssh, love. It'll be okay. I'll make sure you get through this." He was very protective of me.

I gave him a watery smile, whispering, "Thanks Richi. Love you."

"Anytime, Ryl."

That was almost two weeks ago. I was definitely not over it, but at least I stopped bursting into tears any time someone mentioned the word "Dad." We had read his will nine days ago, and that was why I was on my way to Seattle. Well, then Port Angeles.

Emily Uley was my mother's niece, and my only living family that I was aware of. I was on my way to the small Indian reservation that was La Push, Washington, to live with Emily and her husband Sam. My dad and I had gone to their wedding only last year.

I was excited that I got to explore my heritage, at least this half. I'm half-Quileute and half-Icelandic, my mother being full Quileute and my father full Icelandic. We lived in Iceland for the first four years of my life, so I tried to put forth the want to go to La Push.

But all I wanted to do was go back to Boulder and hang out with Richi.

Well, flashback lane just occupied my entire flight.

I arrived in Seattle with only 45 minutes before my flight to Port Angeles took off. I sent Em a quick text saying I didn't die on the flight, and went to use the restroom. I had to wait in line for 20 minutes before a stall was free. By the time I peed, washed my hands, and grabbed a venti hazelnut coffee from Starbucks, I had less than five minutes to board my plane.

"Final boarding call for flight 916 to Port Angeles, final boarding call."

Fuck! I sprinted to the gate, almost dropping my coffee on some old lady, and boarded my plane with literally 30 seconds to spare.

I took a sip of my coffee, knowing it would be my last Starbucks for a while.

So, what do you think? It'll get better than this, this is just kinda a "get-to-know" chapter. Fluffeh.

REVIEWS MAKE ME WRITE FASTER AND LOVE YOU ALL MORE!