A/N: I apologize for starting the story from the start again, but I recently re-read my work, and it was really horrible. I'm surprised no one's told me. So I'm restarting it with a similar plot line & minor changes. Again, I'm sorry! And I hope you enjoy my story.

Running From Lions

"This won't hurt a bit," he whispered as he stepped closer toward me, his dark brown eyes dancing mischievously. "Stay back," I warned, my voice breaking. He laughed once. "Or what, you're going to run to your daddy for help?" he jeered, twirling the knife he held in one hand as he advanced toward me once more. My blood-curdling scream lasted for only a few seconds, before his hand clamped over my mouth. I felt a sharp jab to my forearm and gasped as I felt a small trickle of warm blood slide down my arm. He smiled at me one last time, before the darkness closed over me.

I woke up panting, and sweating as I fumbled around my bed, and quickly wiped the tears that were rapidly flowing down my cheeks. I hopped out of bed, in attempt to turn off the wretched beeping noise coming from my alarm clock, tripping on my bed sheets during the process. I landed on the wooden floor with a loud thud, wincing as I tried to let the pain subside. There was a knock at the door, and then I heard Charlie's concerned voice, "Bella, are you alright in there?"

"I'm fine dad, thanks," I muttered, disentangling myself from the sheets, and pushing myself off the floor heavily.

There was a moment of silence before he decided to speak again, "Bells, you better get ready for school. Don't want to be late on your first day of high school, do you?"

"Of course not," I mumbled to myself, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. I waited until I heard Charlie's footsteps descend down the stars, so he couldn't see how swollen my eyes had been. When I was sure he was gone, I hurried to the bathroom to dress myself.

I had the same dream almost every night, since the day I've been here – which has been almost two months. And I would wake up the same way each morning, shuddering and sweating profusely, as I attempted to erase the memories from my mind. I dared not mention anything to Charlie; he was already worried since the attack, I'm sure he heard me talk in my sleep every night. I mentally scolded myself for distracting my train of thought – I was supposed to be getting ready.

Absentmindedly, I slipped into a pair of comfy sweats and a simple blue t-shirt. I walked slowly down the stairs, making sure not to stumble over my own feet, and greeted a now, smug looking Charlie.

"What's going on dad?" I sighed. He just grinned, and led me outside, to reveal a rusted, red Chevy truck, covered with a thin layer of cloud white snow. I hadn't realized my mouth had fallen open, until I noticed Charlie's disappointed expression.

"If you don't like it, I could always return-" I cut him off quickly, "It's exactly perfect. I love it. Thanks Dad!"

It may have not been a sleek, fancy car that most people wanted, but it was exactly right for me – simple and unique with personality.

I hugged Charlie, and hurriedly jumped into the drivers' seat, preparing myself to meet my doom. High School.