When Renée put me on the plane I hadn't really known what to think. Mom had made it out like it was going to be a great big adventure with my sister, to stay in Forks for a whole year. As a way to 'cheer' her up, and as mom said, to give myself a little bit of 'independence'. Even though I was halfway through the first semester of freshman year of highschool, and we had barely just settled in Jacksonville, Renée was determined for me to go. The only thing I knew my sister was that my sister had gone through a rough break up, and she'd gotten herself lost in the woods at some point. But that had been several months before the trip, so I assumed the worse to be over.

But I was not prepared for what awaited me in Forks.

Charlie looked awful when he picked me up at the gas station-sized airport in Port Angeles. There were heavy black rings beneath his eyes, more gray in his hair than the last time I had seen him, and had a couple more pounds around his middle. Despite the lateness of the afternoon, he was in his police uniform and held a Styrofoam cup of coffee in his hand.

"It's good to see you, Emily." His hugs were the same. He still smelt of rain, gun oil, and Old Spice. It was awkward around Charlie, I didn't know him as much as Bella did. I had been a byproduct mistake of a mistake, and the awkwardness of it permeated everything. But by this point I had accepted is as part of our relationship.

We listened to local radio during the hour and a half drive to Forks. Charlie opened his mouth a couple of times as if to say something, but couldn't seem to get anything out. I equally couldn't find any words when I tried to ask what was up.

I hadn't been to Forks since I was ten. Bella had refused to go to Forks that summer, and I had followed my sister, so Charlie had had to come to Arizona instead. Even though it had been four years, Forks hadn't changed all that much.

The forest was still luridly green, the sky dark and stormy. Bella had always hated it. Said it made her feel trapped and caged beneath the constant clouds.. She had seemed so much freer in Phoenix beneath the ever-present sun. Every summer throughout childhood she had acted like it was some kind of prison sentence.

Which was why it was such a mystery she had remained here after we'd settled down in Jacksonville. Before she left, I'd helped her find a baby cactus to bring a little dessert to rainy Washington State. It had baffled me that she'd wanted to stay in a place she hated so much.

I liked Forks. I liked the big trees, and I liked the rain. I like the cool, calm, quaintness of a small town that was so different to the bustling city Phoenix had been. When I was younger Charlie had bought me a new pair of rubber rain boots every year because of my passion for puddle jumping. Driving through Forks made me nostalgic. I wondered if my old rain boots would still fit, and whether or not the dip at the end of Charlie's road was still there and full of water.

There were a couple new houses, and a shiney new gas station along South Forks Avenue. But besides that it was exactly the same. One house still had a rusted and unused car on their lawn. Turning onto Charlie's street felt exactly like it did when I was nine years old and nervous about being away from Renée so long. A battered and very ancient red truck was parked in the driveway of Charlie's house. I had never seen it in person before, but I remembered it from one of Bella's birthday present photos. It made me jealous that I wasn't of permit age and couldn't drive yet. The freedom of having my own car was just out of my reach.

"Bella should be home," Charlie said with a tired smile as he pulled up into the drive.

"Should be?" I asked, confused.

Charlie shrugged as he popped the boot, "She works at the Newton's store. Her shifts have been all over the place lately."

I had no idea who the Newtons were but I nodded like I understood. The sun had set during the drive to Charlie's house, and my stomach rumbled as I helped lug my bags to the front door. I was a light packer, out of airport-easiness rather than choice, so I only had a suitcase, duffel, and backpack to bring inside.

Charlie must have heard my stomach because he said, "I was thinking of ordering pizza."

My mouth watered at the very idea. "Sounds great."

"Toppings?"

"Meatlovers with mushrooms," I grinned when Charlie grimaced. Me and Bella were the only people in our family who ate mushrooms. Renée claimed to be allergic and Charlie was not the biggest vegetable fan. In any way or form. There had only ever been vegetables on Charlie's dinner table under strict instructions from Renée; and it had been Bella's job to make sure he enforced it.

For as long as I had know, existed really, Charlie had lived in the same blue, wood-sliding house. It technically only had two rooms but Charlie had cleared out the study for me to have. It was disconcerting walking up the stairs and not heading towards Bella's room. We had shared it during our summers here; but we were too old for that now.

Charlie had bought some cheap pine furniture in Port Angeles before I had come, so I had a dresser, an oddly high bed, and a desk. Renée had wanted me to have a computer like Bella had, but there hadn't been enough money because of the plane tickets. I would have to share with Bella until I could get a job, or one could turn up second-hand. If I was desperate to check my e-mails I would have to make the three-block trek to the musty Forks library.

Overall the study wasn't too bad a bedroom; although significantly smaller than Bella's. It's smallness would make it easier for me to keep it clean and organised, I supposed. I was a notorious clutter monster and more often than not had a floordrobe rather than a wardrobe.

Soft bullets of rain started to hit the window pane as I was putting away my clothes. It hadn't rained in Jacksonville for several weeks. I had missed the cathartic sound of it and breathed in deeply. Although it made me realise how cold i was, so I clicked the ancient little space heater on. One sucky point to Charlie's house; no central heating and no climate control.

Most of my winter clothes I had bought with me, and they barely filled half the dresser. It had seemed pretty ridiculous to bring my summer Florida clothes to Washington. Renee and Phil had given me some money to buy warmer things, but I would have to go Port Angeles or Seattle for that. Forks probably only had a Sears, which was something so horrifying I didn't want to even contemplate.

The rest of my things would remain in Jacksonville, but a couple of boxes were to be delivered in a month or so. Books, knick-knacks, bed sheets; that sort of thing. Anything to make my room less bare, like a motel room.

"Emily, Bella! Pizza's here!"

I went to the bathroom quickly before coming downstairs, welcomed by the sound of ESPN and a can of beer being popped open. My stomach growled loudly as the hot meaty smell of pizza hit my nose. God, I hadn't eaten in ages. The food on the airplane had been revolting, so I had picked at it without truly eating any of it. I think I'd only had a Snapple on the flight over.

Charlie was in the boxy living room. I tried not to cringe at all the school photos on the mantle piece, as well as the awkward holiday photos of me and Bella in matching Christmas sweaters. Renée was not so cruel as to torture us with pictures of bad photo days past. But It reeked of Charlie's loneliness, how many hours had he spent in here after work, with nothing but his near-estranged children's' school photos to keep him company? It made me feel deeply guilty.

I was snapped out of my reverie by my stomach growling again. Three pizza boxes sat on the coffee table, next to a six pack of beer and Diet Dr Pepper. My mouth watered.

"You like Dr Pepper, right?" Charlie asked nervously when he caught me eyeing it. It didn't take a genius to figure out he'd gotten the diet variety because both Bella and I were teenage girls and 'cared' about those things. It was sweet, really. I wondered what other things I would find around the house Charlie had done to make it more teenage girl friendly.

I nodded enthusiastically, "Yep. Which box is mine?"

I settled on the carpeted floor so the coffee table could double as a dining table. Charlie had had the sense to grab a wad of paper napkins from the kitchen so there wasn't grease everywhere. We watched baseball for awhile, and Charlie called Bella down again as I cracked open a Dr Pepper and started on my first slice. The barbeque sauce was sweet and tangy, the mushrooms kicking the flavour off. It was an orgasmic experience eating it, my stomach growling relentlessly even as I began my second slice.

"It good?" Charlie asked me, and I nodded again like a bobble head, reaching up with one hand to give a thumbs up. It felt like summers at Charlie's again; we always got pizza on the first night. Bella and I also used to stay up wayyy too late and woke up far too early the next morning, like the worst kind of hyperactive squirrels imaginable.

The Dodgers had just hit a homerun when Bella made her way downstairs.

There had only ever been two times in my life I'd been scared Bella was going to die. Once when I was thirteen and Charlie had called to say she'd almost been run over by a speeding van, and later that year when Bella had fallen down several flight of stairs and out a hotel window. I had watched her through the observation window of Bella's hospital room for hours, counting the breathes and the spikes of the heart monitor her battered body made. I had thought that would be the end of Bella's near-death experiences.

But sitting in the living room, watching Bella emotionlessly nibbling at a slice of vegetarian pizza, I realised it was another one of those times.

Renée had warned me Bella was not in a good way. I had overheard her and Phil's late night conversations about severe depression and Bella's catatonia. Renée had flown over to bring her home at one point, though Bella had apparently refused… rather violently.

The last time I had seen Bella was waving her off at Phoenix International Airport on the way back to Forks, her creepy JCREW model boyfriend by her side. She had been reasonably happy despite the broken leg, and had been smiling in the Prom photo she'd sent to Renée a couple of weeks later.

Bella… this Bella. Was a corpse. A zombie. A paper doll.

I realised how much I hated Edward Cullen in that moment. It birthed a fierce fury in my belly, the beast inside me itchy and angry and wanting to lash out. I wanted to taste blood.

I shoved a piece of pizza in my mouth, biting hard and grabbing at my moonstone bracelet with my free hand.

Bella hadn't said anything else besides her limp greeting. It felt she wasn't even aware I was there and saw right through me like I was a transparent pane of glass. Another tchotchke in Charlie's living room.

She seemed to pick at her food more than eat it. Two slices of her pizza were disassembled into neat piles of olives, slices of mushroom, cherry tomato halves, bell pepper crescents. Her usually shiny chocolate brown hair was tied in a limp ponytail, dull and dry. Like Charlie, there were deep grooves beneath her eyes like she hadn't slept a full night in weeks. Her clothes were far too clean, and they were too loose on her like she'd lose several pounds.

Bella wore the moonstone ring I had sent her, though. I thought about asking if she liked it, but I couldn't find the words.

Charlie acted too casual about the whole thing; watching the TV and sipping his beer, making loud exaggerated noises each time something happened. I tried to pay attention to the television too, but my eyes kept going back to Bella. Zombie Bella.

During the course of the game I ate my way through over half a pizza, my stomach still growling when I stopped. It would be a futile game to try and satisfy the deep aching hunger there. Charlie drank two beers, although they probably had the alcohol content of my left toe. Bella ate a slice and a half of pizza, and picked apart the rest of it, rendering it unsuitable for left-overs. She said good-night dull-ly, her brown eyes glassy, and mumbled something about homework before disappearing up the stairs again. Her feet didn't seem to make any noise against the creaky wooden steps.

I awkwardly waited around in the living room before I offered to pack up the boxes and put them in the fridge. Charlie grunted noncommittally. The kitchen was the same, but it stunk of bleach and everything was…. too sterile. So unlike Charlie; Bella must have done it. Everything was still the same though. I half-expected the pamphlets and coupons stuck to the fridge with magnets to be dated 2001.

I gave Charlie a hug before heading upstairs. I took the stairs one at a time and paused on the landing. Bella had her light on, it shined out from beneath her door but it was eerily silent. The only thing I could hear was Charlie changing the TV channel downstairs. When we had lived together in Phoenix, she used to play music at night-time.

I stared at her door. Her shut, dark, empty, cold door. It was frightening what could change so drastically over the summer. My diligent, responsible, prickly porcupine of a sister had become someone — no, something else.

Like I had.