New story! I would say Temporary Residence is about halfway done, taking into account the length of the actual Twilight book. That's it. Leave me a cookie, since reviews are cookies. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Whenever I say I own Twilight, people come and arrest me. So I'm not going to do that anymore. I don't own Twilight-somehow the universe messed up when they were trying to figure out who wrote it. So Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I just bring them together, kill some OC's, and put her characters back on the shelf mostly unmolested.

I stepped out of the lobby of my apartment building, fishing for my keys in my purse. I was going to be late for work if I didn't hurry up, and my employer wasn't very tolerant. I may have been the best waitress in the whole damn bar, with a spotless record, but you mess up once with her and you no longer have a job. The only reason I was running late today was because my ex-boyfriend Mike had been bothering me again.

I was halfway across the lot before I finally found my keys. Pulling them out of my purse, I heard a scuffle, and looked up.

There were two men near my pickup truck. One was waving a twelve-inch knife around, while the other was backing away, unknowingly backing up to my car. The one with the knife took a step toward the other man, and took a jab towards his abdomen. He had backed into my car now, and was pressed against it as if he wished he could disappear.

This was obviously a gang problem, because the man wielding the knife had three teardrop tattoos underneath one of his eyes. A tattoo of a teardrop under an eye signifies a gang kill, so this man had moderate experience. I was used to seeing the marks-I lived one street over from a gang headquarters, so it was a somewhat natural occurrence for me.

I'd just never seen a hitman do his job. And there was a reason for that.

I began backing away slowly, still watching the pair for any signs that they had noticed me. The victim ducked out of the way when the knife was jabbed towards his head, moving to stand in front of my car. The hitman followed him. I was almost at the doors to the apartment building.

The assassin swung the knife in a wide arc, and the victim no longer had a head attached to his body. A strangled cry escaped my lips as I saw the head roll. I looked at the assassin, and he was staring at me. Shit, I thought, frozen in place.

A black SUV swung around the corner and screeched to a stop next to the hitman, who dumped the body in the backseat. He looked at me one last time before climbing into the passenger seat, his dreadlocks swinging in the breeze.

As the car drove off, I shook myself out of the stupor I had briefly been in, and walked shakily to my car. I looked both ways before walking into the street to get into the driver's side. Luckily, I didn't see any blood on the windows or the hood. I didn't do very well with blood, and being passed out in the middle of the road wasn't a very good idea at the moment.

I drove to work, trying to forget what I had just witnessed. Remembering wasn't an option. I pulled into one of the few employee parking spots at Lachrymose, the bar and nightclub that I worked at, glad that I had driven faster than normal-which would be just above legal-to get here on time. I was actually early, considering I couldn't see any of the regulars' cars here yet. Most came in just as my shift started.

I walked inside, greeting the afternoon-shift workers who were serving their last drinks to their customers. I waved at Alice, one of my coworkers who always got here at least half an hour early, and walked over to where she was standing.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her brow furrowed. "You look kinda pale,"

Of course, she had to bring up exactly what I was trying to forget. "No, I'm fine. It's probably just the lights." I replied, wincing at my lame excuse. Alice knew me better than that. That, and I couldn't lie to save my life.

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at me, but let it go. "So, you're here earlier than usual."

I was about to say something, but Tanya called my name. When Tanya calls your name, you haul ass to find out what she wants. Grateful for the interruption, I walked quickly across the dance floor to the door to Tanya's tiny office. Letting myself in through the open door, I stood in front of her desk, waiting.

"I received a complaint from one of my customers yesterday, Bella. And they said you served them. Care to explain?" she said, not looking up from her papers.

Nobody ever complained. Even if their server was a bitch to them, they were always too drunk to notice. The only thing I could remember from yesterday that could possibly lead to a complaint was when I had spilled a drink. The man that I had covered in beer had assured me it was fine, but I had still bought him a drink as compensation. He wouldn't have filed a complaint.

The rest of the night had been uneventful, other than one particularly drunken man who had practically assaulted me. I had asked him politely to let me go, and he had after Alice had pried his fingers from my arm. But that wasn't my fault.

"What did they complain about?" I asked, perplexed.

"They were vague enough for me to not know. If you don't know, we can let this one go. Don't let it happen again." she answered, sliding her eyes up to look at me, her golden curls hanging around her face.

"Sure," I said, backing out of her office. I turned around to walk over to the bar, since my shift was starting soon, but walked straight into a wall. I felt hands wrap themselves around my arms to steady me, and I looked up, only to see Mike. I pushed away from him and started towards the bar, and he grabbed my arm.

I tried to rip it out of his grasp, but he held on. "Go away, Mike. We're over. How many times do I have to tell you?"

"But babe," he pleaded. I hated it when he called me babe.

Sighing, I snapped, "How many times do I have to tell you, for you to get it through your thick skull, Mike? We are done."

I had finally broken up with Mike a few months ago, after almost a year of his constant pestering. He stuck to me like white on rice, much to my frustration. Possibly the most clingy person ever, he was still following me after a week of being moved to the ex-boyfriend position.

I was glaring at him silently when Alice and Rose stalked over. "Piss off, Newton." Rosalie hissed.

Mike let go of my arms and stepped back. He watched me for a moment, before turning around and practically jogging out of the bar. "It's always nice to have a friend who scares the hell out of my ex," I said, turning to face them.

"No problem. I just don't understand why he doesn't give up already. You are way out of his league." Rose said, looking at her nails.

I sighed. "If they found him in a ditch on the side if the road, I wouldn't be too disappointed."

I walked over to the bar with Alice and Rosalie following me, and we stood around to wait for some customers. The minuscule group of people who came here in the afternoon were leaving, and pretty soon the night crowd would start flowing in.

I walked over to a switch on the wall, flicking on the strobe lights just as the DJ walked in, as if on cue. He took his place, and I stood near the marble counter as a steady stream of regulars and already-half-drunks walked through the doors. Soon, I was rushing back and forth between tables and the bar, bringing people their drinks and occasionally stopping to chat with one of my regular customers.

When I had first come to work here, I would always have a headache by the end of the night. By now, I was used to the loud music, the flashing lights, and the stifling heat created by hundreds of bodies. I was bringing one final drink to a table when I saw him.

He was watching me from across the bar, leaning against the wall, staring. I stood in shock for a moment before continuing to the table, throwing nervous glances his way every few seconds. The assassin continued to watch me as I finished working for the night, and I resorted to walking out with Alice and Rosalie.

We walked out the door and to the employee parking, where we each separated. I climbed into my rusty old pickup, Rosalie into her glossy red BMW, and Alice into her Porsche. I searched the shadows for any telltale signs that he was there, and not finding any, I followed Alice and Rose out of the lot.

We all had apartments in the same neighborhood, although mine was the closest to gang territory, a fact I was not currently proud of. Rosalie turned into her apartment building's lot first, then Alice a few minutes later. I parked and practically ran into the building. Entering my apartment, I collapsed onto my bed.

I laid there, once again trying to erase the event that had taken place that afternoon from my memory. There was a reason I had never witnessed a gang murder. Witnesses always mysteriously disappeared, or were killed in a freak accident.

And I was a witness.