In A Young Girl's Heart

by MakeYourBodyaCanvas

After the sudden departure of Edward and the entire Cullen family, Bella's life was shattered, but the deep, aching hole that should've been in her chest wasn't there. Instead, Bella was drawn to the mysterious forest nymph that only she could see. While embarking on a new journey, Bella's loyalties are put to the test as the past mixes with the future.

1. Chapter 1

In A Young Girl's Heart:
After the sudden departure of Edward and the entire Cullen family, Bella's life was shattered, but the deep, aching hole that should've been in her chest wasn't there. Instead, Bella was drawn to the mysterious forest nymph that only she could see. While embarking on a new journey, Bella's loyalties are put to the test as the past mixes with the future.

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Author's Note: This story is rated M for a reason. I guess you could say that the story is strictly 18+ only. There will be potentially disturbing content, including graphic sex, violence, mentions of rape, slavery/human trafficking, murder, disrespecting other religious beliefs, foul language, mentions of abortion/miscarriage, and a host of other possible offensive elements. I also implore that you read this story with caution, especially if anything listed above makes you uncomfortable. This will be my only warning, so again, read at your own risk or please leave now. Any comments that I think are rude will be deleted.

This story does involve female on female action and romance. To simply put it, this is a lesbian love story. So if that's not your kind of thing, or it goes against anything you believe, please leave now. Any comments that I think are rude will be deleted and you will be reported.

I suppose I should also mention that Bella will become out of character in the future, or maybe not. I don't really know yet. I'm doing this story on a whim since the thought just came to me one day. But more than likely Bella will change from how she was in the books and movies. Mainly because I couldn't stand how much of a little whiny bitch she was. So yeah, she'll grow a pair or two along the way.

*More information, along with credits and disclaimers, can be found below.

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Chapter 1: Life Passing By

October

Bella went straight home after school, driving her jolting, rusting truck carefully through the quiet streets. Mike had wanted her to hang around and join the others at Port Angeles — to an all aged pool bar that had a vintage jukebox and indoor sport courts — and to possibly see a movie afterwards which would mean that she'd be jammed in a theater with couples.

So she declined his offer (awkwardly, but nicely) and made a false promise to catch up with them later.

Charlie's cruiser was gone, but on the kitchen table he had left fifty dollars and a note: Don't wait up. Order some pizza, you know what I like. Try to do something productive today. Love you. Dad.

Most dads would have probably shipped their depressed, heartbroken teenage daughter to be with the mom so they wouldn't have to deal with those sort of emotions, but Charlie wasn't like most dads, and Bella was thankful. Charlie had never been comfortable expressing his emotions out loud. It was one of the many traits from him that Bella had inherited so they had a different approach to the situation than Renée, who was nothing short of an unstoppable force of an erratic loving mother and a harebrained woman at the same damn time.

Bella just felt lucky to not have Charlie home that night. She didn't feel like sitting through another awkward conversation that was mainly one sided since Charlie was doing most of the talking now a days.

For the first time in awhile the cold bothered Bella. She dropped her bookbag on the stairs and made her way upstairs. Her bedroom was spotless, not a thing out of place. She shucked off her raincoat and shivered in the middle of the wooden floor. It didn't help that she had left the window opened last night. That was a habit that was hard to break, but there wasn't a reason for her window to be opened during the next few months. Her room would only get colder, and with her luck, Bella would then find herself emitted to the hospital for hypothermia….again.

So she closed the window.

She took a deep breath and stepped back from it once she locked the latch. It was completely pathic on her end that closing a window made her heart ache, but Bella couldn't help herself. It felt like she was closing a major chapter of her life, no matter how cheesy that sounded.

Charlie would finally be happy. He didn't understand why Bella had wanted her room to be an icebox to begin with, but he also disliked that he was wasting money on the heating since she always left the window open. Bella didn't mind the cold. Even though she preferred the warmth that she use to soak up in Arizona, the cold air was a bittersweet reminder that Ed—that he had been apart of her life.

She shook her head. She dug her fingernails into her her palms until she felt the dull ache of the skin giving away. Thinking about him and them was still too hard. So she'd rather not think about any of it. But Bella was a glutton for punishment; she pressed down on the top of the CD player. The latch unhooked, and the lid slowly swung open.

It was empty.

She picked up the album that was resting on the stand next to her bed. And the classical style of Clair de Lune was all she heard.

She left her door opened as she walked into the kitchen, glad that she had the music playing as loud as it could go.

It was the only way to fill up the empty house.

She dug through the fridge and settled for a bowl of cereal. She had tried to eat the greasy slice of pizza at lunch, but the thought of scarfing down half cardboard cheese didn't appeal to her, even with pepperoni. So she wolfed down the cereal and grabbed a coke. She thought about spiking it with Charlie's favorite alcohol, doing something that a normal teenager would do, but she didn't go through with it. She knew that she was already putting Charlie through a lot and she didn't want to make it worse for him. So she wandered back upstairs to her room to sit in the old rocking chair and looked out the window. She supposed she had the best room in the entire house. She faced the back edge of the forest, and the way outside light reflected into her room as the sun began to set was kind of beautiful. She never really took the time to admire it before.

But as dusk began to settle in, the house started to get eerie. She always hated it when Charlie stayed at the station late especially since she now knew what was out there. Night was when most of the things in the real world came out to play. And by play she meant, "a game of cat and mouse," "the hunter becomes the hunted," or "make people mysteriously disappear, yum yum." The choices were endless.

She pulled an old quilt around herself, snuggling into the warmth, and sipped on her coke until it felt like she needed to burp—the coldness of the drink made her shiver a bit. The clock behind her blinked its little red numbers, and darkness gathered deeper and deeper into the corners of her room. The wind made the screens on the doors and windows rattle.

When Bella was a little girl, and Renee's income could only afford her an apartment, she made a game of listening to the sounds in the building as everyone came to and from, making up stories about them. Bella learned from a young age that most apartment complexes weren't really quiet if you listened close enough. After a while the sounds would become familiar, almost distinctive, and Bella soon found all those noises to be comforting in an odd way. She vaguely remembered how their neighbors use to play soft piano tunes to get their newborn asleep. That had always been nice to listen to despite the fact the tenants below them use to fight every time rent was due.

Houses were different, though. They creaked, murmured and groaned all on their own. And they got creepy when night came around. An empty house at dusk would start to talk even if you weren't listening, no matter how old it was. That was why Bella always had her music playing. But she still felt she wouldn't be able to hear if anything was sneaking up on her.

She wondered if ghosts and poltergeists were real. They had to be if vampires were. She didn't know how much more of the supernatural she could handle, though.

As she listened to the music and waited for Charlie, Bella got the feeling that something was watching her. She brushed the sensation off as her imagination going haywire. Nights were scary when you were waiting for someone to come home. Especially since she had witnessed things that only happen when you're alone and no one else was there to verify it. TV and movies would've had a field day with her life. In fact, it almost felt like she was living in one of those horrible Lifetime drama movies.

But Bella knew things could go very, very wrong. Not only because of vampires, but simply because Charlie was a cop. His line of profession was dangerous all on its own, and Bella remembered how much Renee hated Charlie's job. Her mother had always been worried that she would get a call late one night about how Charlie lost his life in some robbery gone wrong, or a standoff, or something along those lines.

As seven after ten rolled around the house was still empty. It started to groan and squeak as the wind grew louder. And it wasn't the soft and sweet whistling that was just loud enough to make you feel cozy and snuggle up.

It was like a moan, with big glass teeth ready to cut you into tiny pieces. It only sounded like that when something dangerous was coming, something different.

Tonight the wind sounded like that. Bella hoped that Charlie would be home soon. She finished her drink and fished for a pencil on her desk and started her homework. She started off with math, wanting to get her toughest subject out of the way and made her way to the last subject. She easily got into her English homework, writing different paragraphs, imagining the story coming to life—explained vibrant colors coming off the pages, taste filling her mouth as descriptive perfume wafted under her nose. Bella had written a lot of stories, especially after Renee would leave her in the care of a babysitter, and one of her teachers had discovered Bella's passion for reading.

When Bella thought about her first real memory of visiting Charlie, the smell of paper and the sound of Grandma Swan scrubbing something—she had always been cleaning—came to mind. She was always up doing something, the Alzheimer's made her forget that she had already washed the floors, wiped down the windows, or vacuumed a hundred times before. Grandma Swan had taught Bella all about keeping the place clean as a whistle and how to cook, too. She would even read her to sleep some nights and it had all been classical, Victorian era stories. But there had been nights where Bella would cry herself to sleep, missing Charlie who was at work, wanting her mother, not understanding why her grandmother didn't recognize her, and lonely and terrified of the sounds that Forks made.

What did a five-year old understand about Alzheimer's? Or her parents not living together? Or even that staying with Charlie wasn't forever?

Full night fell quickly. The clock continued to blink and Bella got up to use the bathroom. Once she settled back in the chair, she noticed something silver—glowing with a dim illuminating light source. She squinted and tried to see what was lurking in the forest when she noticed that the lightest pair of blue eyes she had ever seen were staring right back at her. It took Bella a minute to realize that the glowing silver was the girl's skin, but that was impossible. No one—no creature—had silver glowing skin. That was outrageous of her to even think, but something of a darker silver twitched behind the girl's back and Bella could've swore that she saw gigantic wings. She also noticed that the girl was dressed in leaves, covering her intimate areas like she was some sort of forest nymph.

Bella pressed the heels of her hand to her eyes until she saw nothing but sparkles. When she looked up again the strange girl was gone. With a shake of her head, Bella went downstairs to grab another drink and she had really considered reaching for the alcohol now that her mind was playing tricks on her. But since Charlie rarely drank anything he stashed away that was stronger than beer, he definitely would notice and he wouldn't be pleased at all.

Bella went on to finishing her homework. Once she finished she had picked up a random book that she hadn't finished reading laid down on her bed. The clock kept blinking. She finished her warm glass of milk and fell asleep with the book on her chest, the top of the page creased, showing the next lines of work.

When she work up the next morning, Charlie had already left for work.

.

November

Lauren was with Tyler on the shores of La Push when it looked like a storm was about to roll in, and having lost her car privileges and Tyler's license revoked for at least a year, they were left to their own two feet to carry them back to town. They reached Tyler's house first and he gave Lauren a goodnight kiss before he watched her walk down the block as she started for home.

Rain sheeted down lightly like a mist on the darkening street that was just a block away from Lauren's home. She stepped easily over the puddles of water and mud. Even in the thickest of fog she could find her way home without the fear of getting lost. There was no fog tonight, but the darkness and onslaught of rain was common for Forks.

There was movement on the other side of the road in Lauren's peripheral vision, on the outer edge of the forest, and she snapped her head in that direction. At first glance what appeared to be a large angel monument situated on the side of the road started to make its way towards Lauren. Neither marble or stone, the girl possessed arms and legs. Her torso was practically naked except for the shimmering foliage that looked like leaves covering her breasts, and her long skirt whisked around her long legs like the wind, and her feet were bare. She came to stand a few feet away from Lauren, the ends of her black hair dripping from the rain. It slid down her face, which almost reminded Lauren of the russet coloring of the Quileute.

Lauren's hand crept to the mace in her bag. "Who are you? What do you want?"

The girl's mouth hinted at a smile.

"Don't try anything funny. My father's a politician," Lauren warned. "So tell me who you are."

"Politician?" The girl tilted her head to the side. "Or a drunk?"

Lauren pointed the spray mace at the girl. "Take that back! My father isn't a drunk. Even if he was, how would you know that? You're not from here," she added clumsily. She was shaking, but it wasn't from the cold.

The girl lazily shook her head. "You're father couldn't do anything to me either way. He wouldn't stand a chance against my father."

Lauren bristled at the insult. "And who's your father?" She knew that she was right in her assessment of the girl not being from town, but she would remember the girl's name and see what dirt she could dig up on her.

The girl walked up and pushed Lauren's hand to the side. She suddenly looked younger than Lauren had presumed, maybe a year or two younger then Lauren.

"A king," the girl responded.

Lauren was still shaking, but she laughed. "You're a fucking lunatic," she said as she laughed in the girl's face. "Get out of my way."

The ground beneath Lauren titled. Bursts of multicolored fireworks popped behind her eyes. She hunched over with her fingernails digging into her skull. It was like pressure she had never felt before was pushing her down. She looked up at the girl, gasping for air and blinking rapidly as her vision blurred. Her body was reacting to an unseeable force and her mind raced like it was no longer under her control.

The girl grabbed Lauren by the hair and jerked her head back harshly until Lauren was looking up. "Now listen carefully because I'll only say this once. I need something from you. And you're going to give it to me. I won't leave until I have it. Do you understand me?"

Gritting her teeth, Lauren shook her head to express her defiance as she tried to fight back. Her nails dug into the girl's flesh on her hand, but it had no effect. She even tried to spit at the girl, but it just trickled down her chin. Her tongue refused to form words.

"I need your oath of fealty," the girl said. "Mean it and swear it."

Lauren tried to force a scream through her throat, but all that came out was a choking sound as her throat constricted. Her right knee buckled as if someone had kicked it from behind, but no one was there. She stumbled forward into the puddle of water and mud. She bent to the side and looked up.

"Swear it," the girl pressed. Her accent—Irish? Maybe Scottish?—came through.

Lauren felt the contents in her stomach rush up to her throat. Heat flushed around her neck and Lauren tried to scream again, but still nothing came out. She didn't know how, but she knew that the girl was responsible for the invisible force and the nausea and the feeling of such weakness. It wouldn't leave until she said whatever the girl wanted her to say, so Lauren would swallow her pride if that meant she walked away with her life, but she would destroy the girl later on for humiliating her.

"I swear it," Lauren said quickly, but the bite in her tone was obvious. "I swear that you have my fealty, ok? You got it."

The girl lifted Lauren to her feet. "I'll call upon you whenever I see fit. You won't tell anyone about me or what has transpired here. I will know if you do, and you won't like the consequences. So be a good slave and do as you're told, and this will go smoothly."

"A….slave?!" Lauren's whole frame shook under the pressure of her rage. "I am a human being!"

"You are a daughter of Adam," the girl said with a sneer that looked like a sliver of a smile.

Lauren's response was on the tip of her tongue, but it was swallowed. Her next words shook just like her body was. "What did you say?"

"You are a descendant of the biblical first man Adam. You are nothing but flesh and bone. You were created from mud." The girl's light blue eyes clashed with Lauren's dark ones. "And you are nothing."

Lauren knew the story of how the earth was created in seven days. Her parents use to enroll her in Saturday school after church whenever they didn't have a babysitter for her so she had sat through hours of reading passages from the Bible, barely listening to the stories. But the girl's words sent a chill up Lauren's spine. "Who are you?"

The girl simply smiled. She turned and began to walk away, and a part of Lauren wanted to go after her, to attack and demand that her questions be answered, but her legs still wouldn't respond to her command. Still standing, blinking through the rain, she saw two extremely thin wings that appeared to be made of glass on the back of the girl's torso. They narrowed to form an upside-down V.

"Are you—are you an angel?" Lauren called out. "Those are angel wings, aren't they?"

The girl—the supposed angel, possibly fallen if Lauren remembered correctly—didn't look back. She left Lauren to dwell in her thoughts.

"What am I supposed to do, anyway?" Lauren shouted at the retreating figure. "You didn't tell me anything!"

The girl disappeared into the night right before Lauren's disbelieving eyes, and only a sinister laughter resonated in the wind.

.

December

He walked along the off beaten path of the forest, his bare feet not touching the ground as he moved too fast for human eyes to see. The floor beneath him gave away signs of a disturbance, but it just looked like the wind was blowing everything in one direction and then another.

It sounded like a hornets nest was wrestling around up in her brain. She wanted to open her mouth, she wanted to call out to him—to tell him to stay, that she missed him—but he was already gone. Disappearing and then reappearing before she could get her words out. The buzzing in her brain spread like wildfire throughout her entire body, rendering her speechless and motionless.

She knew it was a dream, more so a nightmare, but they had never started out like this. She had one every night, and they seemed to have gotten worse as the winter season was approaching. But this one wasn't the usual nightmare where she envisioned him leaving over and over again, repeating those horrible words like they somehow had released him from a terrible fate.

No. This dream was hypersensitive. She could see how he shined like a diamond when the sunlight hit his skin, she could smell the murkiness of the forest and his natural musk smell with that curious hint of underlying lavender. The way his button down shirt wasn't tucked into his dark washed jeans, but every line and crease was gone. The silver crest that rested on a black band around his wrist would reflect in the light, shining in her eyes whenever he was off in the distant.

The sun didn't look like the sun, though. It was almost like there was a gigantic fluorescent light above her head. The annoying buzzing echoed louder in her head. That was why she couldn't speak—it was like static on the television, making her wince every time she tried to form a coherent thought to speak. It almost made her body feel like that tingly sensation before apart of her went numb. Pins and needles crept up her spine, trying to coax her into giving in to just standing there and staring. Like something was rotting her brain slowly.

Time slowed down, and everything stretched out like something from a cartoon. His speed didn't cease, though, it only got faster. It felt like a century for her to even look in the direction that he had once been in, and by the time she had finally caught up with him a door had came into view. Which was odd because why would a door—a plain steel door that had a soft, angelic glow behind it—be in the middle of the forest? The hornets had crawled out of her brain and were now picking at skin, trying to forge a home underneath it.

There was something behind the door; something that smelt of rotten flesh and iron. The smell sent a shiver up her spine. It was like the feeling she got when she had stupidly went after James on her own, which almost got her killed and thrown into a world she didn't want to be joining just yet, but in the end it would've been worth it all if he had been by her side.

Or like her faithful eighteenth birthday where she found herself yet again staring into the eyes of hungry vampire who didn't see her as a human being, but only as food to be consumed as if they hadn't had anything to eat in years. But that fear had been greater than the one she had felt when she was with James. The nomadic vampire made his intentions very clear the second he got a whiff of her, but her birthday truly scared her. That had been a vampire she trusted, a vampire who had fought to keep her safe and even killed one of his own when her life had been on the line. She had felt like the blood had drained from her entire being when she had stared into the eyes of what a true vampire looked like.

But this feeling was worse. Much, much worse.

Don't leave me, she wanted to say. Please, I love you too much. Don't leave.

He kept moving too fast for her to see, and the buzzing got so bad that it felt like pins and needles were pricking at every inch of her skin. She struggled to move, to reach out towards him, but she was stuck in place.

He never stopped. He just kept moving closer and closer towards the door, and the dream started to close like a camera lens; darkness gingerly eating at the edges of her subconscious.

She was still trying to talk when he reached out to turn the knob, and his movements were slow for the first time. And the light behind it was blinding, and it laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed….

Bella came awake all at once, jolting like she had been electrocuted back to life. The book fell off her lap and she scrambled to catch it before it had hit the floor. Her head felt like someone was taking a jackhammer and having a good ole' time. She moaned and blinked. It was a usual grey day, but sunrise was fast approaching.

The house was still and cold, though.

She pushed herself up into a sitting position. Her head was throbbing and her body felt ice cold, almost numb. She had fallen asleep sitting up right again, only to slouch in her slumber and have the hardcover edge of the book dig into her stomach. Whenever she had a decent nights sleep without a night terror, Charlie didn't dare to try and move her. She rubbed the sleep away from her eyes and listened for the heater, the sound of the early morning news, and for the heavy footsteps of Charlie moving around.

There was nothing, though. And her alarm clock had been turned off. She vaguely recalled something loud and annoying piercing through her subconscious, trying to wake her up, and she fumbling to turn it off. Thankfully she was on break.

Bella rolled out of bed and pulled on a pair of socks before she shuffled out into the hallway. The quilt was wrapped around her shoulders tightly, thick enough to keep her warm. She made her way down to the other bedroom, the one next to the stairs.

The door was pried opened, but the blinds were shut. Bella peered inside and saw Charlie's bed empty. The bed wasn't made, though, and the smell of his cologne lingered in the air. At least she knew that he had come home. Charlie never made his bed in the morning.

She took notice to the paper pinned to the door.

I'll be home late tonight. Another kidnapping took place over night. There's some money in the cookie jar if you want to order food, or go out and do something. Be careful, it's supposed to snow. Dad.

Bella's heart felt heavy. For the past three months children had been disappearing from all over in the Seattle area, and the crimes were getting dangerously close to Forks. But Bella knew that there was more to the case then the news and Charlie would provide. Something odd was going on, something that the police had never seen before, and Bella—being Bella—wanted to know what it was. She just didn't have the energy to do anything, though.

Bella made it down the stairs like an old woman, holding onto the ice cold banister.

She was met with the expectant silence, as per usual.

The smell of coffee wafted its way from the kitchen into her nose, another sign that Charlie hadn't left too long ago. The remote had been left on the couch and a plate sprinkled in crumbs was alone in the sink. The cup of coffee was left in the microwave. The toaster had been left plugged into the wall.

She shuffled her way into the living room, seeing the red light of the cable box blinking on and off. The house was just so cold. She went over and punched the buttons to turn the heater on with stiff fingers.

The heat clicked on and she could hear it moving through the vents as it shook and rattled itself to life. She pulled the quilt tighter around her as a blast of cold air came out first. She walked softly towards the door, yanking it open to see if there was anything in the mailbox.

The cold hit her like a sledgehammer, making her eyes water and stinging her skin. The yard and the road was painted in a sheet of white, bits of green grass poked through under the mounds of the heavy, wet snow. The street was almost pristine.

Charlie's cruiser was gone. The whole neighborhood was under the spell of the cold, thick blanket.

That's when memories started to hit her like a freight train. She shut the door and locked it; stumbling upstairs with a mother of all headaches. She banged down the hall and into the bathroom, throwing herself in front of the toilet as the dry heaves started. She didn't produce anything but bile, even though tears ran down her hot face with every retch. She stopped long enough to cry, resting her head against the cool seat of the toilet. She hadn't told Charlie about how bad she got sometimes. He was already struggling to do his best, and dealing with her night terrors had aged him a bit. She didn't want to think about the look of pity mixed with just the tiniest bit of disgust he would give her if he knew that she got so upset she started to physically get sick.

She didn't know how long she stayed there on her knees. By the time it was over she could only think about one thing.

He's not coming back, she told herself. Why am I so weak? He doesn't want me. He said it himself.

Except she held onto the hope that he would come back. That he would change his mind and come back, remembering the times they had together, no matter how short. He had to feel still feel something for her. He had to be coming back because she refused to believe anything else. Misery loved company, and it definitely liked Bella so much that it threw in its good friend denial.

Maybe he'll call one day.

He wouldn't call; he would just show up. It was why she kept her window opened for so long. He would always just appear to her no matter what. It was like sunrise, or the tide.

So maybe something is still there.

She rested her forehead against her knees, curling into the fetal position on the bathroom floor.

The practical part of her wanted to shake her and stand up. It wanted to get the laundry done and keep track of how many boxes she was going to have to ship to Florida to Renee and Phil for Christmas. It whispered to her in a clam, cool voice. Did you hear me, Bella? You've got to get it together.

"I know," Bella whispered. It was the only sound besides the heat pumping through the vents. But her heart beat sounded as loud as thunder to her. And her mouth tasted foul.

So he wasn't coming back. But maybe he still felt something.

Maybe he did. That was the second best thing. She thought she could live the rest of her life knowing that he still felt something. Because she refused to believe that he didn't. He could stay away all he liked—he could do that until the day she died, but she would never believe that he didn't feel an inkling of affection for her.

What if he doesn't? Answer me that, Bella. What if he doesn't?

That's what she was trying not to think about. He would always feel something for her, even if it wasn't one of intimacy. He'd never completely forget about her anyway. He had once told her that vampires had perfect memory; all it took was one glance or encounter and that was it. So she couldn't imagine what almost a year could engulf into his brain.

It felt like she had a fever. So did her cheeks. Her hair hung down in wavy stings, a darker brown with threads of red; darker and thicker than Renee's. She felt sweaty all over, and whoever was hammering away in her head was going in on her temple now. Her stomach growled, but she didn't have the energy to satisfy her hunger.

It felt like hours had passed by when she decided to get up. She couldn't stay curled up in the bathroom forever. Charlie would come home, and he'd be tired. Too tired to deal with her issues.

So she took a shower. She would then clean up the house so she had something to do, and so that Charlie could see that she actually did something today even if it was menial housework. He would be exhausted and hungry when he got home, so she'd have dinner ready and make sure everything was ready before he got home from work.

Yeah. Do that, Bella. That'll make just about everything ok. Just swell.

She stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her. She shrugged on a pair of sweats and a simple T-shirt. She took the quilt back to her room. She even tidied up her room before she did anything else.

Then she cleaned up the kitchen. After that, the living room. She'd then start dinner and have it ready.

That was the plan. That's what she was going to do.

So she did it.

.

It started to snow again late in the afternoon, big wet, crystal flakes spun around in the air like some sort of theatrical dance as they landed on the ground like smooth beaten iron. Bella went to go look outside the window, shivering into the throw blanket. She still didn't have much in winter apparel; pretty much most of her wardrobe favored the spring and summer since she had spent majority of her life in sunny Phoenix, Arizona. She had even been down south before as a child, too, going to places like the Carolinas, Atlanta, Florida, Baton Rouge and many more place. Renee loved the sun and warm weather. Not only could she go out and do more things, but she loved to tanned. If Bella actually tanned instead of burning, then she probably would've had similar complexion to Jacob.

She tilted her head back and looked up at the sky. It was a gray day, almost shrouded in darkness, and the snowflakes swirled around wildly. Each one was bigger than the next and thicker. They stuck to everything in sight, covering all of Forks in nothing but total whiteness. She remembered how she use to love spending Christmas in Forks because she never saw the snow back in Arizona. But she would get stuck home alone a lot. Seattle was always the busiest during the Christmas season with its crime rates, mainly due to shoplifting, and Charlie would always get called into the station to help out. That had been a major deciding factor for her to stay in Arizona for most of her life then on.

She had already done four loads of laundry. And the kitchen was spotless. The heater was still going; making the the house nice and warm. She had organized the gifts and boxes in the living room, packing some and arranging knickknacks. She had gone through the DVD collection and arranged them in alphabetical order just for the hell of it. Charlie wouldn't notice—he never did notice much of the little things. That had been something that drove Renee crazy, especially when she had been fishing for a compliment. But it had also been an endearing trait, too, somehow, showing that her parents had actually loved each other enough to put up with the other's quirks.

There was a pang in her chest.

She tried not to think about it.

Her stomach growled again, but she felt weird. If she ate, she was certain that she would just throw it back up. She had drank four glasses of water through the day, gulping them down like she had been dying of thirst in between her tasks. It seemed to calm her stomach down a bit, but it did nothing for her headache.

She watched as frost collected on the windows when she pulled the blinds up. The stretch of the front yard and street was clogged with snow. There had barely been a car in sight, but those who did pass by hadn't got stuck in the ever growing mass of snow.

None of them had been Charlie, though. She checked every time it sounded like a truck was making its way down the road. All their neighbors had pulled into their driveways or garages while the Swan's resident laid vacant. She didn't know how Charlie would be able to park once he got home. It looked like a monster truck couldn't get any of the snow to move to make a decent spot.

She had been in the living room absentmindedly watching TV when she heard something tapping from the kitchen.

Tip-tap. Tip-tap. Tap—tap—tap.

She froze, feeling goosebumps rise hard and fast on her arms. Her head jerked in the direction, hair falling into her eyes.

She wondered what it was. She knew for a fact that it hadn't been the screen door on the back porch rattling. She knew that sound well enough.

The goosebumps didn't go away.

Tap. Tap.

Like a freshly manicured nail drumming gingerly against a windowpane. Bella felt her heart lurch into her throat and she began to shake. Then her mouth went dry, feeling like it smelt awful. She felt her fingers go numb.

She didn't know why she was freaking out. It could've been an neighbor asking to borrow the shovel or something.

But she got the feeling that it wasn't a neighbor. And whoever was at the back door certainly didn't want a shovel. Or maybe they did so they could bury her body afterwards.

That thought made her anxiety worse.

Oh shit, oh shit.

Then that odd faux calmness washed over her; like she had everything under control when she didn't. The daylight was fading fast now, and she had been too lazy to get up and turn on the lights. The streetlight barely did anything to help. And she knew that Charlie hadn't fixed the back porch light yet either.

Bella got up, walking on wooden legs that were shaking like a leaf. She picked up the remote, knowing that it would prove to be fruitless against an intruder, but she didn't want to walk in there empty handed. She didn't know the combination of the safe where Charlie kept his gun, and Bella wouldn't have dared tried to use that to defend herself. She would end up shooting herself instead.

Be quiet, Bella. It was Charlie's voice in her head now, instructing her. He had taught her some basic survival skills in case of a home invasion situation. Go to the other side of the hall and be quiet. It's coming from the kitchen. Remember what I taught you.

Bella edged down the hall, cursing the boxes and her two left feet when she stumbled and tripped a bit. The kitchen light had been left on, giving her a rectangular light that stopped at the foot of the stairs. The heater kicked off and the tapping got louder.

Tap—tap—tap. There was a pause. Tap—tap—tap.

Bella swallowed the lump in her throat. Her heart wouldn't slow down. The muscles in her thigh shook like she had been running a hard marathon and then some. She wasn't graceful moving down the hall, probably making more noises than she wanted to, but she finally made it into the kitchen.

Charlie always told her that nothing could ever really prepare someone for a situation like this—unless the person had gone through it or something similar more than once—where it was all based on your instincts and reaction time. He had said that the paranoia sat in fast, and your peripheral vision would start to play tricks on you. That you had to focus on everything around you, but having your eyes flicker around frantically, trying to take in everything, would only end in failure.

Bella stepped further into the kitchen, seeing the sink, and the stove, and half of the kitchen table.

The window above the sink was empty, full of frost. That had calmed her nerves just a smidget. Her heart still pounded in her ears, though. She didn't know how it was possible, but her mouth felt even dryer.

Tap. Tap—tap—tap—tap—tap.

The sound had a little more force behind it now, like it was trying to get her attention.

Bella stepped into the kitchen.

The back door rested in between the counter and Charlie's chair at the table. When he sat down he couldn't see the door since his back was facing it. The door itself was old. Made of sheet metal and flimsy wires to make a screen that covered the latticed glass window, it wouldn't take much for an intruder to break it down.

Bella was fighting with her heart for control of her throat. She gasped far too loudly and almost dropped the remote. She could see who it was clearly through the wires of the screen, the fading light of the sun giving her just enough to see what exactly she was looking at.

The forest nymph was at her back door. Her eyes were trained on Bella, blue as blue could be and lighter than any gem. Her skin was silver and illuminating ever so slightly; she looked practically radiant. Her finger nail, which was long and pointed, tapped against the window in a playful manner this time. Her hair gave midnight a run for it's money and she looked too perfect as the snow wetted her hair. If Bella dared to get closer, she would've seen the ancient language that was long thought to be a hoax written across the nymph's body. But what caught her attention the most were the wings. They looked like dragonfly wings, but that was impossible.

What she was seeing was impossible.

She would've known a vampire anywhere. But the nymph wasn't one. She was something that Bella had never seen before, but she wasn't all too sure if it was real. For all Bella knew, her subconscious was finally deteriorating from her lack of human contact and it was starting to conjure up images of beings that were just as otherworldly and beautiful as….them.

Those so blue eyes that burned like fire locked with Bella's. The nymph cocked its head to the side like it had heard something from afar, but there was no mistaking that smirk.

The nymph was enjoying seeing Bella in fear.

Bella let out a dry barking sound and her back hit the wall; smacking her hips against the cabinets.

The nymph removed her finger from the window, using the hand to give Bella a little wave. And before Bella could blink, the nymph was gone.

.

January

The little girl was seated behind a desk. Her white spring dress looked to made out of cheap material, almost similar to surgical gauze, and it had certainly seen better days—and possibly a fire or two. Her legs were resting on the desk, on top of sheets of paper that had absentminded doodles on them. All the pictures looked like deformed giants with monstrous teeth.

A man entered the room without knocking and leaned against the desk. "She's here."

The little girl looked up. Her face was young and kind, but her smile was crowded with small, jagged teeth. And it wasn't the usual amount a child her age would have. About fifty to sixty were crammed in there.

"Princess Gricenchos," she said ever so politely with a smile. When the Princess grimaced, she covered her mouth with a dirty hand. "Oh dear, I ought to be more cautious. You think I'm ugly."

The Princess's face said it all, and she didn't even bother to deny it. That was because changelings were ugly; even horrifying, especially with their humongous black eyes.

The changeling gestured towards the heavy, high black chair. "Please, sit and talk with me. Tell me why you are here."

The Princess sat down and inspected the changeling closely. It was odd to see one still stuck with a child's form. She stood out from majority of the changelings who were growing babes, or already old. Her imagine certainly would fool even the best con artist, but those jagged teeth and black eyes made her just like the rest of her kind.

When the Princess didn't say anything right away, the little girl began to fidget.

"I've been hearing a lot of commotion," the Princess said, she scraped her nails against the wooden arm of the chair. "And it all has to do with your kind. Something about an alarming number of castoffs being brought and dying in the human world."

The little girl nodded, staring at the Princess. "I have everything under control, I assure you."

The Princess leaned back in her chair. The little girl's dull black eyes got impossibly wider. "I somehow doubt that….Bríd."

The changeling flinched at the rotten way the Princess had said her current alias.

"I'm not surprised to see that you're the one who is in the middle of this scandal," the Princess said. "It's been sometime since the last one, but no one's forgotten. You see, I have a business arrangement for you and it would be satisfying if it was reciprocal."

"What do you mean? I haven't done anything."

"Oh, darling," the Princess said with an unwelcoming smile. "Don't be silly. Of course you've done something. You're becoming an issue, and it's only a matter of time before it gets worse. You'll do this one thing for me, and in return, I'll make it so that my father and the other royals will leave you be, so you won't have to live out the rest of your life evading your death."

Bríd watched her, trying to see the reason why the Princess had even bothered to make a personal appearance. "What do you want?" She sounded more than nervous.

"Don't look so scared. I won't ask you to do anything that you wouldn't do on your own accord." The Princess had a look in her eyes that Bríd didn't like. "While child snatching is hardly a crime, we have fallen behind on the times. We need a new method to be more discrete."

"What does that have to do with me, though? I am just simple, old me."

"You have a knack for this," the Princess said, crossing her legs and smoothing out her skirt. "An imaginative mind. Your opportunistic ways makes you immeasurably useful to me. If it's agreeable, I'll have your people go and use a new method once a week to snatch a child until we've found one that's perfect and won't draw too much attention."

"You want to help us?" Bríd's owlish eyes were like those of a dead fish, but she was certainly surprised. She shook her head. "I mean, when do you want to start?"

"Tomorrow, this time in Forks, to throw the authorities off."

"But Forks is too small. It's why we've moved to Seattle."

"Forks is vulnerable," the Princess said. "I'm sure you've noticed."

Bríd had heard that the coven of Cold Ones had abandoned the town months ago and that a small pack of shapeshifters now prowled around, but solely on their own turf. She nodded her head.

"This town is drawing away from us. Material objects cloud their mind, and their attentions have strayed from what should fill their hearts at best. But we do need all the adulation we can get. If that means going through parents begging and praying on a national level for their child back, then so be it."

"What do you want me to do?"

The Princess's smile was vicious. "Now we're getting somewhere. Your track record is not in your favor, as I'm sure you know. You couldn't even appeal on your own behalf without any of royals being too happy to provide your demise. But it'll be easy for me to get some sort of pardon for you. All I ask is that you personally have a hand in this experiment, too. For you do know how to get them to acknowledge us."

"Why do we still need their acknowledgment?" What came out of Bríd's mouth seemed to have irritated the Princess.

"Because we've done our part, and it's time that they picked up where they left off. Is it hopeless to think that they could love us again?"

"They don't even remember that we exist."

"Then not to love us, but to recognize. Because if they don't it'll turn into fear again, and hate, and they'll want to exterminate us. We've been down that road and I know for certain that no one wishes to go back to those days. But if we don't try something we'll spiral down to those dark years again."

Bríd knew that was the truth. A spine chilling sensation ran through her body. Those had been dark days.

The Princess sneered. "They can become quite dangerous when they put their minds to it. Their admiration pleases us, and our presence us to excite the children, even if they didn't realize it was us they were happy to see."

Bríd gasped. "You want to live off children?"

The Princess shrugged. "They're sweet and naïve. Their attention and admiration will help to sustain us."

"And if that form doesn't work?"

The Princess gave a tight smile and looked over her shoulders. She noticed a tall, lanky girl standing in the hallway, softly running her fingers over the gash on her throat. "How old was she?"

Bríd nodded towards the girl. "Just a babe, really. The family didn't know what she was, but they knew she wasn't their daughter. They slit her throat not too long after she was given to them."

"Terrible, isn't it?" It was rhetorical question because everyone knew exactly how horrific it was. "That's what will happen to us all if we can't find a way."

Bríd ran a claw-like hand through her hair, pulling out a clump of it. "There are those who believe that going back to living off blood and sacrifice is the best route to take."

"Those like your sister?"

Bríd grimaced. "She was born heartless."

"Yes," the Princess hummed in agreement. She never got into the business of snatching children, or luring them into their world, but knew that there were those who callously snatched a child away simply because they were pretty. And while her people had always been attracted to pretty things—especially to children with cherubic faces and beaten gold hair—she had never agreed with feeding off of them. "I'm going to assume that the massive media attention is her doing."

Bríd glanced up at the Princess. "I've warned her, I have, but she doesn't want to listen. It's not so bad, though. My sister has been keeping them as trinkets. She's not too cruel to them."

The Princess started her down. "I've talked to a boy, who goes by the name of Mackie Doyle."

"Oh?" Bríd's child-like voice got impeccably high.

"He said that your sister tore through the real Malcolm Doyle's throat when he was just an infant."

"That was one time," Bríd said quickly. She began to run her claws through her hair frantically and more clumps began to fall out. "She did tear out his throat, but it was very quick. I suppose it was even painless."

"You can't be sure of that," the Princess said, cutting off the rambling.

Bríd paused for a moment. She winded a handful of hair around her wrist and then unwinded it, repeating the action. "On second thought, I do imagine it would hurt."

"When your sister talks about sacrificing, she talks about murder. And you know how we feel about murder."

"Oh, no, no, no! Not murder—sacrifices." Bríd gave her a tight smile. "I promise you that she has evolved."

The Princess shook her head, laughing. "You have made your mistakes in the past, but your sister? Oh, your sister has made a ghastly terrible one."

Bríd swallowed the lump in her throat. "He poses no threat to…."

"Mackie Doyle is no concern of mine. I rather like the boy. But your sister knows the rules. She should have returned him to our world twelve years later, but she didn't. She left him in that world, hoping he would die so that she wouldn't have to return the child she killed. I can't imagine she was too pleased to learn that he survived."

Bríd didn't answer. She knew it was useless lying to the Princess. It was dangerous lying to any of the nobles, and it was no use trying to defend her sister, whose grave was dug a very, very long time ago.

The Princess laced her fingers together and leaned forward. Bríd looked at her and was enraptured by her beauty. She was glowing and beautiful, smiling like she couldn't harm a fly. Like she was just a docile, innocent princess. Her eyes were round and perfectly blue, and Bríd couldn't help but smile back because she felt compelled to.

"Promise me," the Princess said. She leaned in closer. "If you promise to work for me and help us evolve, I'll make sure that you can come home. I'll make sure that you will be safe from your sister's clutches, and you won't have to suffer for her crimes ever again."

"I promise," Bríd said, because her home was something she had longed for, for centuries. And because she wanted to finally put her sister behind her. "I promise."

.

(The Start of New Moon, Chapter 4. Waking up)

Charlie's fist came down on the table. "That's it, Bella! I'm sending you home."

Bella looked up from her cereal, which she was pondering rather than eating, and stared at Charlie in shock. She hadn't been following the conversation—actually, she hadn't been aware that they were having a conversation—and she wasn't sure what he meant.

"I am home," she mumbled, confused.

"I'm sending you to Renee, to Jacksonville," he clarified.

Charlie watched with exasperation as she slowly grasped the meaning of his words.

"What did I do?" Bella felt her face crumple. It was so unfair. Her behavior had been above reproach for the past four months. After that first week, which neither of them ever mentioned, she hadn't missed a day of school or work. Her grades were perfect. She never broke curfew—she never went anywhere from which to break curfew in the first place. She only very rarely served leftovers.

Charlie was scowling.

"You didn't do anything. That's the problem. You never do anything."

"You want me to get into trouble?" She wondered, her eyebrows pulling together in mystification. She made an effort to pay attention. It wasn't easy. She was so used to tuning everything out, her ears felt stopped up.

"Trouble would be better than this... this moping around all the time!"

That stung a bit. She had been careful to avoid all forms of moroseness, moping included.

"I am not moping around."

"Wrong word," he grudgingly conceded. "Moping would be better—that would be doing something. You're just... lifeless, Bella. I think that's the word I want."

This accusation struck home. Bella sighed and tried to put some animation into her response.

"I'm sorry, Dad." Her apology sounded a little flat, even to herself. She'd thought she'd been fooling him. Keeping Charlie from suffering was the whole point of all this effort. How depressing to think that the effort had been wasted.

"I don't want you to apologize."

She sighed. "Then tell me what you do want me to do."

"Bella," he hesitated, scrutinizing her reaction to his next words. "Honey, you're not the first person to go through this kind of thing, you know."

"I know that." Her accompanying grimace was limp and unimpressive.

"Listen, honey. I think that—that maybe you need some help."

"Help?"

He paused, searching for the words again. "When your mother left," he began, frowning, "and took you with her." He inhaled deeply. "Well, that was a really bad time for me."

"I know, Dad," she mumbled.

"But I handled it," he pointed out. "Honey, you're not handling it. I waited, I hoped it would get better." He stared at me and I looked down quickly. "I think we both know it's not getting better."

"I'm fine."

He ignored her. "Maybe, well, maybe if you talked to someone about it. A professional."

"You want me to see a shrink?" Her voice was a shade sharper as she realized what he was getting at.

"Maybe it would help."

"And maybe it wouldn't help one little bit."

She didn't know much about psychoanalysis, but she was pretty sure that it didn't work unless the subject was relatively honest. Sure, she could tell the truth—if she wanted to spend the rest of her life in a padded cell.

He examined her obstinate expression, and switched to another line of attack.

"It's beyond me, Bella. Maybe your mother—"

"Look," Bella said in a flat voice. "I'll go out tonight, if you want. I'll call Jess or Angela."

"That's not what I want," he argued, frustrated. "I don't think I can live through seeing you try harder. I've never seen anyone trying so hard. It hurts to watch."

She pretended to be dense, looking down at the table. "I don't understand, Dad. First you're mad because I'm not doing anything, and then you say you don't want me to go out."

"I want you to be happy—no, not even that much. I just want you not to be miserable. I think you'll have a better chance if you get out of Forks."

Bella's eyes flashed up with the first small spark of feeling she'd had in too long to contemplate.

"I'm not leaving," she said.

"Why not?" he demanded.

"I'm in my last semester of school—it would screw everything up."

"You're a good student—you'll figure it out."

"I don't want to crowd Mom and Phil."

"Your mother's been dying to have you back."

"Florida is too hot."

His fist came down on the table again. "We both know what's really going on here, Bella, and it's not good for you." He took a deep breath. "It's been months. No calls, no letters, no contact. You can't keep waiting for him."

She glowered at him. The heat almost, but not quite, reached her face. It had been a long time since she had blushed with any emotion.

This whole subject was utterly forbidden, as he was well aware.

"I'm not waiting for anything. I don't expect anything," she said in a low monotone.

"Bella—," Charlie began, his voice thick.

"I have to get to school," she interrupted, standing up and yanking her untouched breakfast from the table. She dumped her bowl in the sink without pausing to wash it out. She couldn't deal with any more conversation.

"I'll make plans with Jessica," she called over her shoulder as she strapped on her school bag, not meeting his eyes. "Maybe I won't be home for dinner. We'll go to Port Angeles and watch a movie."

She was out the front door before he could react.

In her haste to get away from Charlie, Bella ended up being one of the first ones to school. The plus side was that she got a really good parking spot. The downside was that she had free time on her hands, and she tried to avoid free time at all costs.

Quickly, before she could start thinking about Charlie's accusations, she pulled out her Calculus book. She flipped it open to the section they should be starting today, and tried to make sense of it. Reading math was even worse than listening to it, but she was getting better at it. In the last several months, she'd spent ten times the amount of time on Calculus than she'd ever spent on math before. As a result, she was managing to keep in the range of a low A. She knew Mr. Varner felt her improvement was all due to his superior teaching methods. And if that made him happy, she wasn't going to burst his bubble.

She forced herself to keep at it until the parking lot was full, and she ended up rushing to English. They were working on Animal Farm, an easy subject matter. She didn't mind communism; it was a welcome change from the exhausting romances that made up most of the curriculum. She settled into her seat, pleased by the distraction of Mr. Berty's lecture.

Time moved easily while she was in school. The bell rang all too soon. She started repacking her bag.

"Bella?"

She recognized Mike's voice, and she knew what his next words would be before he said them.

"Are you working tomorrow?"

She looked up. He was leaning across the aisle with an anxious expression. Every Friday he asked her the same question. Never mind that she hadn't taken so much as a sick day. Well, with one exception, months ago. But he had no reason to look at her with such concern. She was a model employee.

"Tomorrow is Saturday, isn't it?" She said. Having just had it pointed out to her by Charlie, Bella realized how lifeless her voice really sounded.

"Yeah, it is," he agreed. "See you in Spanish." He waved once before turning his back. He didn't bother walking her to class anymore.

She trudged off to Calculus with a grim expression. This was the class where she sat next to Jessica.

It had been weeks, maybe months, since Jess had even greeted her when she passed her in the hall. She knew she had offended her with her antisocial behavior, and she was sulking. It wasn't going to be easy to talk to her now—especially to ask her to do me a favor. Bella weighed her options carefully as she loitered outside the classroom, procrastinating.

She wasn't about to face Charlie again without some kind of social interaction to report. She knew she couldn't lie, though the thought of driving to Port Angeles and back alone—being sure her odometer reflected the correct mileage, just in case he checked—was very tempting. Jessica's mom was the biggest gossip in town, and Charlie was bound to run into Mrs. Stanley sooner rather than later. When he did, he would no doubt mention the trip. Lying was out.

With a sigh, Bella shoved the door open.

Mr. Varner gave her a dark look—he'd already started the lecture. She hurried to her seat. Jessica didn't look up as I sat next to her. She was glad that she had fifty minutes to mentally prepare herself.

This class flew by even faster than English. A small part of that speed was due to her goody-goody preparation this morning in the truck—but mostly it stemmed from the fact that time always sped up when she was looking forward to something unpleasant.

She grimaced when Mr. Varner dismissed the class five minutes early. He smiled like he was being nice.

"Jess?" Bella's nose wrinkled as she cringed, waiting for her to turn on her.

She twisted in her seat to face her, eyeing Bella incredulously. "Are you talking to me, Bella?"

"Of course." She widened her eyes to suggest innocence.

"What? Do you need help with Calculus?" Her tone was a tad sour.

"No." She shook my head. "Actually, I wanted to know if you would... go to the movies with me tonight? I really need a girls' night out." The words sounded stiff, like badly delivered lines, and she looked suspicious.

"Why are you asking me?" she asked, still unfriendly.

"You're the first person I think of when I want girl time." Bella smiled, and she hoped the smile looked genuine. It was probably true. Jessica was at least the first person she thought of when she wanted to avoid Charlie. It amounted to the same thing.

She seemed a little mollified. "Well, I don't know."

"Do you have plans?"

"No... I guess I can go with you. What do you want to see?"

"I'm not sure what's playing," Bella hedged. This was the tricky part. She racked her brain for a clue—hadn't she heard someone talk about a movie recently? Seen a poster? "How about that one with the female president?"

She looked at her oddly. "Bella, that one's been out of the theater forever."

"Oh." Bella frowned. "Is there anything you'd like to see?"

Jessica's natural bubbliness started to leak out in spite of herself as she thought out loud. "Well, there's that new romantic comedy that's getting great reviews. I want to see that one. And my dad just saw Dead End and he really liked it."

Bella grasped at the promising title. "What's that one about?"

"Zombies or something. He said it was the scariest thing he'd seen in years."

"That sounds perfect." She'd rather deal with real zombies than watch a romance.

"Okay." Jessica seemed surprised by her response. Bella tried to remember if she liked scary movies, but she wasn't sure. "Do you want me to pick you up after school?" Jessica offered.

"Sure."

Jessica smiled at Bella with tentative friendliness before she left. Her answering smile was just a little late, but she thought that Jessica saw it.

The rest of the day passed quickly, her thoughts focused on planning for tonight. She knew from experience that once she got Jessica talking, she would be able to get away with a few mumbled responses at the appropriate moments. Only minimal interaction would be required.

The thick haze that blurred her days now was sometimes confusing. She was surprised when she found herself in her room, not clearly remembering the drive home from school or even opening the front door. But that didn't matter. Losing track of time was the most she asked from life.

She didn't fight the haze as she turned to her closet. The numbness was more essential in some places than in others. She barely registered what she was looking at as she slid the door aside to reveal the pile of rubbish on the left side of her closet, under the clothes she never wore.

Her eyes did not stray toward the black garbage bag that held her present from that last birthday, did not see the shape of the stereo where it strained against the black plastic; she didn't think of the bloody mess her nails had been when she'd finished clawing it out of the dashboard.

Bella yanked the old purse she rarely used off the nail it hung from, and shoved the door shut.

Just then she heard a horn honking. She swiftly traded her wallet from her school bag into the purse. She was in a hurry, as if rushing would somehow make the night pass more quickly.

She glanced at herself in the hall mirror before she opened the door, arranging her features carefully into a smile and trying to hold them there.

"Thanks for coming with me tonight," Bella told Jess as she climbed into the passenger seat, trying to infuse her tone with gratitude. It had been a while since she'd really thought about what she was saying to anyone besides Charlie. Jess was harder. She wasn't sure which were the right emotions to fake.

"Sure. So, what brought this on?" Jess wondered as she drove down Bella's street.

"Brought what on?"

"Why did you suddenly decide... to go out?" It sounded like she changed her question halfway through.

Bella shrugged. "Just needed a change."

She recognized the song on the radio then, and quickly reached for the dial. "Do you mind?" She asked.

"No, go ahead."

Bella scanned through the stations until she found one that was harmless. She peeked at Jess's expression as the new music filled the car.

Her eyes squinted. "Since when do you listen to rap?"

"I don't know," Bella said. "A while."

"You like this?" she asked doubtfully.

"Sure."

It would be much too hard to interact with Jessica normally if she had to work to tune out the music, too. She nodded her head, hoping she was in time with the beat.

"Okay..." She stared out the windshield with wide eyes.

"So what's up with you and Mike these days?" Bella asked quickly.

"You see him more than I do."

The question hadn't started her talking like she'd hoped it would.

"It's hard to talk at work," Bella mumbled, and then she tried again. "Have you been out with anyone lately?"

"Not really. I go out with Conner sometimes. I went out with Eric two weeks ago." She rolled her eyes, and Bella sensed a long story. She clutched at the opportunity.

"Eric Yorkie? Who asked who?"

She groaned, getting more animated. "He did, of course! I couldn't think of a nice way to say no."

"Where did he take you?" Bella demanded, knowing she would interpret her eagerness as interest. "Tell me all about it."

She launched into her tale, and Bella settled into her seat, more comfortable now. She paid strict attention, murmuring in sympathy and gasping in horror as called for. When she was finished with her Eric story, she continued into a Conner comparison without any prodding.

The movie was playing early, so Jess thought we should hit the twilight showing and eat later. Bella was happy to go along with whatever she wanted; after all, she was getting what she wanted—Charlie off her back.

Bella kept Jess talking through the previews, so she could ignore them more easily. But she got nervous when the movie started. A young couple was walking along a beach, swinging hands and discussing their mutual affection with gooey falseness. Bella resisted the urge to cover my ears and start humming. She had not bargained for a romance.

"I thought we picked the zombie movie," she hissed to Jessica.

"This is the zombie movie."

"Then why isn't anyone getting eaten?" She asked desperately.

Jessica looked at Bella with wide eyes that were almost alarmed. "I'm sure that part's coming," she whispered.

"I'm getting popcorn. Do you want any?"

"No, thanks."

Someone shushed us from behind.

Bella took her time at the concession counter, watching the clock and debating what percentage of a ninety-minute movie could be spent on romantic exposition. She decided ten minutes was more than enough, but she paused just inside the theater doors to be sure. She could hear horrified screams blaring from the speakers, so she knew she'd waited long enough.

"You missed everything," Jess murmured when Bella slid back into her seat. "Almost everyone is a zombie now."

"Long line." Bella offered her some popcorn. She took a handful.

The rest of the movie was comprised of gruesome zombie attacks and endless screaming from the handful of people left alive, their numbers dwindling quickly. Bella would have thought there was nothing in that to disturb her. But she felt uneasy, and she wasn't sure why at first.

It wasn't until almost the very end, as she watched a haggard zombie shambling after the last shrieking survivor, that she realized what the problem was. The scene kept cutting between the horrified face of the heroine, and the dead, emotionless face of her pursuer, back and forth as it closed the distance.

And Bella realized which one resembled her the most.

She stood up.

"Where are you going? There's, like, two minutes left," Jess hissed.

"I need a drink," Bella muttered as she raced for the exit.

She sat down on the bench outside the theater door and tried very hard not to think of the irony. But it was ironic, all things considered, that, in the end, she would wind up as a zombie. She hadn't seen that one coming.

Not that she hadn't dreamed of becoming a mythical monster once—just never a grotesque, animated corpse. She shook her head to dislodge that train of thought, feeling panicky. She couldn't afford to think about what she'd once dreamed of.

It was depressing to realize that she wasn't the heroine anymore, that her story was over.

Jessica came out of the theater doors and hesitated, probably wondering where the best place was to search for Bella. When she saw her, she looked relieved, but only for a moment. Then she looked irritated.

"Was the movie too scary for you?" she wondered.

"Yeah," Bella agreed. "I guess I'm just a coward."

"That's funny." She frowned. "I didn't think you were scared—I was screaming all the time, but I didn't hear you scream once. So I didn't know why you left."

Bella shrugged. "Just scared."

She relaxed a little. "That was the scariest movie I think I've ever seen. I'll bet we're going to have nightmares tonight."

"No doubt about that," Bella said, trying to keep her voice normal. It was inevitable that she would have nightmares, but they wouldn't be about zombies. Jessica's eyes flashed to her face and away. Maybe she hadn't succeeded with the normal voice.

"Where do you want to eat?" Jess asked.

"I don't care."

"Okay."

Jess started talking about the male lead in the movie as we walked. Bella nodded as she gushed over his hotness, unable to remember seeing a non-zombie man at all.

She didn't watch where Jessica was leading her. She was only vaguely aware that it was dark and quieter now. It took her longer than it should have to realize why it was quiet. Jessica had stopped babbling. Bella looked at her apologetically, hoping she hadn't hurt her feelings.

Jessica wasn't looking at her. Her face was tense; she stared straight ahead and walked fast. As Bella watched, her eyes darted quickly to the right, across the road, and back again.

Bella glanced around herself for the first time.

They were on a short stretch of unlit sidewalk. The little shops lining the street were all locked up for the night, windows black. Half a block ahead, the streetlights started up again, and Bella could see, farther down, the bright golden arches of the McDonald's she was heading for.

Across the street there was one open business. The windows were covered from inside and there were neon signs, advertisements for different brands of beer, glowing in front of them. The biggest sign, in brilliant green, was the name of the bar—One-Eyed Pete's. Bella wondered if there was some pirate theme not visible from outside. The metal door was propped open; it was dimly lit inside, and the low murmur of many voices and the sound of ice clinking in glasses floated across the street. Lounging against the wall beside the door were four men.

Bella glanced back at Jessica. Her eyes were fixed on the path ahead and she moved briskly. She didn't look frightened—just wary, trying to not attract attention to herself.

Bella paused without thinking, looking back at the four men with a strong sense of déjà vu. This was a different road, a different night, but the scene was so much the same. One of them was even short and dark. As she stopped and turned toward them, that one looked up in interest.

Bella stared back at him, frozen on the sidewalk.

"Bella?" Jess whispered. "What are you doing?"

She shook her head, not sure herself. "I think I know them..." she muttered.

What was she doing? She should be running from this memory as fast as she could, blocking the image of the four lounging men from her mind, protecting herself with the numbness she couldn't function without. Why was she stepping, dazed, into the street?

It seemed too coincidental that she should be in Port Angeles with Jessica, on a dark street even. Her eyes focused on the short one, trying to match the features to her memory of the man who had threatened her that night almost a year ago. She wondered if there was any way she would recognize the man, if it was really him. That particular part of that particular evening was just a blur. Her body remembered it better than her mind did; the tension in her legs as she tried to decide whether to run or to stand her ground, the dryness in her throat as she struggled to build a decent scream, the tight stretch of skin across her knuckles as she clenched her hands into fists, the chills on the back of her neck when the dark-haired man called her "sugar."...

There was an indefinite, implied kind of menace to these men that had nothing to do with that other night. It sprung from the fact that they were strangers, and it was dark here, and they outnumbered them—nothing more specific than that. But it was enough that Jessica's voice cracked in panic as she called after her.

"Bella, come on!"

Bella ignored her, walking slowly forward without ever making the conscious decision to move her feet. She didn't understand why, but the nebulous threat the men presented drew her toward them. It was a senseless impulse, but she hadn't felt any kind of impulse in so long….she followed it.

Something unfamiliar beat through her veins. Adrenaline, she realized, long absent from her system, drumming her pulse faster and fighting against the lack of sensation. It was strange—why the adrenaline when there was no fear? It was almost as if it were an echo of the last time she'd stood like this, on a dark street in Port Angeles with strangers.

She saw no reason for fear. She couldn't imagine anything in the world that there was left to be afraid of, not physically at least. One of the few advantages of losing everything.

She was halfway across the street when Jess caught up to her and grabbed her arm.

"Bella! You can't go in a bar!" she hissed.

"I'm not going in," She said absently, shaking her hand off. "I just want to see something..."

"Are you crazy?" she whispered. "Are you suicidal?"

That question caught her attention, and her eyes focused on Jessica.

"No, I'm not." Bella's voice sounded defensive, but it was true. She wasn't suicidal. Even in the beginning, when death unquestionably would have been a relief, she didn't consider it. She owed too much to Charlie. She felt too responsible for Renee. She had to think of them.

And she'd made a promise not to do anything stupid or reckless. For all those reasons, she was still breathing.

Remembering that promise. She felt a twinge of guilt.

But what she was doing to fight now didn't really count. It wasn't like she was taking a blade to her wrists.

Jess's eyes were round, her mouth hung open. Her question about suicide had been rhetorical, Bella realized too late.

"Go eat," Bella encouraged her, waving toward the fast food. She didn't like the way Jessica looked at her. "I'll catch up in a minute."

She turned away from her, back to the men who were watching us with amused, curious eyes.

"Bella, yer bein' foolish."

Her muscles locked into place, froze her where she stood. Because it wasn't Jessica's voice that rebuked her now. It was a whimsical voice, a feminine voice, a beautiful voice—soft like velvet even though it was amused.

It was her voice—Bella was exceptionally careful not to think of the forest nymph since their last encounter—and even though she had never heard the nymph talk before, she knew that it was her voice. It had to be. Bella was surprised that the sound of it almost knocked her to her knees, that it replaced all her thoughts that made her want to curl onto the pavement in a torture of loss. There was no more pain, none at all.

In the instant that she heard the nymph's voice, everything was very clear. Like her head had suddenly surfaced out of some dark pool. She was more aware of everything—sight, sound, the feel of the cold air that she hadn't noticed was blowing sharply against her face, the smells coming from the open bar door.

Bella looked around herself in shock.

"Go back ter Jessie," the lovely voice ordered, still amused. "Even though I am curious about what ye plan to do, but remember what ye promised Sparkles—nothin' dense."

Bella was alone. Jessica stood a few feet from her, staring at her with frightened eyes. Against the wall, the strangers watched, confused, wondering what she was doing, standing there motionless in the middle of the street.

She shook her head, trying to understand. She knew the nymph wasn't there, and yet, she felt improbably close, close for the first time since... since the incident. The amused in her voice wasn't laced with concern, and it wasn't laced with anger either—something she hadn't known would be refreshing in her lifetime.

"Ye crossed yer 'eart an' hoped ter die. But did ye really steck a needle in yer eye?" The voice was slipping away, as if the volume was being turned down on a radio.

Bella began to suspect that she was having some kind of hallucination again. Triggered, no doubt, by the memory—the deja vu, the strange familiarity of the situation.

She ran through the possibilities quickly in her head.

Option one: She was crazy. That was the layman's term for people who saw things that weren't there and heard voices in their heads.

Possible.

Option two: Her subconscious mind was giving me what it thought I wanted. This was wish fulfillment—a momentary relief from pain by embracing the incorrect idea that there was some creature out there that cared whether she lived or died. Projecting what she thought the nymph would have said if A) she were there, and B) she wouldn't be in any way bothered by something bad happening to her.

Probable.

Bella could see no option three, so she hoped it was the second option and this was just her subconscious running amuck, rather than something she would need to be hospitalized for.

Her reaction was hardly sane, though—she was grateful. The sound of nymph's voice was something that she'd feared she was losing, and so, more than anything else, she felt overwhelming gratitude that her unconscious mind had conjured up that sound better than her conscious one would had.

She was not allowed to think of him, though. That was something she tried to be very strict about. Of course she slipped; she was only human. But she was getting better, and so the pain was something she could avoid for days at a time now. The tradeoff was the never-ending numbness. Between pain and nothing, she'd chosen nothing.

She waited for the pain now. She was not numb—her senses felt unusually intense after so many months of the haze—but the normal pain held off. The only ache was the disappointment that the nymph's voice was fading.

There was a second of choice.

The wise thing would be to run away from this potentially destructive—and certainly mentally unstable—development. It would be stupid to encourage hallucinations.

But her voice was fading.

Bella took another step forward, testing.

"Yer better be sure about dis," she said with a giggle.

Bella sighed in relief. The amusement was what she wanted to hear—false, fabricated evidence that someone cared, a dubious gift from her subconscious.

Very few seconds had passed while Bella sorted it all out. Her little audience watched, curious. It probably looked like she was just dithering over whether or not she was going to approach them. How could they guess that she was standing there enjoying an unexpected moment of insanity?

"Hi," one of the men called, his tone both confident and a bit sarcastic. He was fair-skinned and fair-haired, and he stood with the assurance of someone who thought of himself as quite good-looking. She couldn't tell whether he was or not. She was prejudiced.

The voice in her head answered with an exquisite scoff. Bella smiled, and the confident man seemed to take that as encouragement.

"Can I help you with something? You look lost." He grinned and winked.

Bella stepped carefully over the gutter, running with water that was black in the darkness.

"No. I'm not lost."

Now that she was closer—and her eyes felt oddly in focus—she analyzed the short, dark man's face. It was not familiar in any way. She suffered a curious sensation of disappointment that this was not the terrible man who had tried to hurt her almost a year ago.

"Yer really off yer meds, aren'tcha?" The voice in her head asked sarcastically.

The short man noticed Bella's stare. "Can I buy you a drink?" he offered, nervous, seeming flattered that she had singled him out to stare at.

"Yer underage, love, but who am I to tell ye what to do? Gods know that me lads and I tried every trick in de book ter git drunk."

Bella felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Her heart began to pound in her ears, and her body went ice cold. She dared to glance around because the sensation of someone watching her was all too familiar. And across the street, behind Jessica, Bella noticed that illuminating silver skin and clear blue eyes staring at her like they had months before.

"I'm too young," Bella answered automatically.

He was baffled—wondering why she had approached them. She felt compelled to explain.

"From across the street, you looked like someone I knew. Sorry, my mistake."

The threat that had pulled her across the street had evaporated. These were not the dangerous men she remembered. They were probably nice guys. Safe. She lost interest.

"That's okay," the confident blonde said. "Stay and hang out with us."

"Thanks, but I can't." Jessica was hesitating in the middle of the street, her eyes wide with outrage and betrayal.

"Oh, just a few minutes."

"Yer man wants ter git in yer pants." Bella's eyes met those blue ones again, and she noticed that the nymph was smiling. She had a beautiful smile. And just like before, the nymph had disappeared from thin air without a trace.

Bella shook her head, and turned to rejoin Jessica.

"Let's go eat," Bella suggested, barely glancing at her. Though she appeared to be, for the moment, freed of the zombie abstraction, she was just as distant. Her mind was preoccupied. The safe, numb deadness did not come back, and she got more anxious with every minute that passed without its return.

"What were you thinking?" Jessica snapped. "You don't know them—they could have been psychopaths!"

Bella shrugged, wishing she would let it go. "I just thought I knew the one guy."

"You are so odd, Bella Swan. I feel like I don't know who you are."

"Sorry." She didn't know what else to say to that.

They walked to McDonald's in silence. Bella bet that Jessica was wishing they'd taken her car instead of walking the short distance from the theater, so that she could use the drive-through. Bella was just as anxious now for the evening to be over as she had been from the beginning.

She tried to start a conversation a few times while we ate, but Jessica was not cooperative. She must have really offended her.

When they got back in the car, Jessica turned the stereo back to her favorite station and turned the volume too loud to allow easy conversation.

Bella didn't have to struggle as hard as usual to ignore the music. Even though her mind, for once, was not carefully numb and empty, she had too much to think about to hear the lyrics.

She waited for the numbness to return, or the pain. Because the pain must be coming. She broken her personal rules. Instead of shying away from the memories, she'd walked forward and greeted them. But it hadn't been his voice she heard so clearly in my head. That was going to cost her, Bella was sure of it. Especially if it belonged to a hallucination she had subconsciously created on her spare time. She felt too alert now, and that frightened her.

But relief was still the strongest emotion in her body—relief that came from the very core of her being.

As much as she struggled not to think of him, she did not struggle to forget. But this hallucination chased away the thoughts and memories of him easily. Bella worried—late in the night, when the exhaustion of sleep deprivation broke down her defenses—that it was all slipping away. That her mind was a sieve, and she would someday not be able to remember the precise color of his eyes, the feel of his cool skin, or the texture of his voice. She could not think of them, but she must remember them. And she couldn't allow something her mind conjured up make her completely forget, no matter how relieving it made her feel in the moment.

Because there was just one thing that she had to believe to be able to live—she had to know that he existed. That was all. Everything else she could endure. So long as he existed.

That's why she was more trapped in Forks than she ever had been before, why she'd fought with Charlie when he suggested a change. Honestly, it shouldn't matter; no one was ever coming back here.

But if she were to go to Jacksonville, or anywhere else bright and unfamiliar, how could she be sure he was real? In a place where she could never imagine him, the conviction might fade….and that she could not live through.

Forbidden to remember, terrified to forget; it was a hard line to walk.

Bella was surprised when Jessica stopped the car in front of her house. The ride had not taken long, but, short as it seemed, she wouldn't have thought that Jessica could go that long without speaking.

"Thanks for going out with me, Jess," she said as she opened the door. "That was...fun." She hoped that fun was the appropriate word.

"Sure," Jessica uttered.

"I'm sorry about….after the movie."

"Whatever, Bella." She glared out the windshield instead of looking at her. She seemed to be growing angrier rather than getting over it.

"See you Monday?"

"Yeah. Bye."

Bella gave up and shut the door. Jessica drove away, still without looking at her .

Bella had forgotten her by the time she was inside.

Charlie was waiting for her in the middle of the hall, his arms folded tight over his chest with his hands balled into fists.

"Hey, Dad," she said absentmindedly as she ducked around Charlie, heading for the stairs. She'd been thinking about him for too long, and she wanted to be upstairs before it caught up with her.

"Where have you been?" Charlie demanded.

She looked at her dad, surprised. "I went to a movie in Port Angeles with Jessica. Like I told you this morning."

"Humph," he grunted.

"Is that okay?"

He studied her face, his eyes widening as if he saw something unexpected. "Yeah, that's fine. Did you have fun?"

"Sure," Bella said. "We watched zombies eat people. It was great."

His eyes narrowed.

"'Night, Dad."

He let her pass. She hurried to my room.

Bella lay in my bed a few minutes later, resigned as the pain finally made its appearance.

It was a crippling thing, this sensation that a huge hole had been punched through her chest, excising her most vital organs and leaving ragged, unhealed gashes around the edges that continued to throb and bleed despite the passage of time. Rationally, she knew her lungs must still be intact, yet she gasped for air and her head spun like her efforts yielded her nothing. Her heart must have been beating, too, but she couldn't hear the sound of her pulse in her ears; her hands felt blue with cold. She curled inward, hugging her ribs to hold herself together. She scrambled for her numbness, her denial, but it evaded me.

And yet, she found she could survive. She was alert, she felt the pain—the aching loss that radiated out from her chest, sending wracking waves of hurt through her limbs and head—but it was manageable. She could live through it. It didn't feel like the pain had weakened over time, rather that she'd grown strong enough to bear it.

All because of a hallucination.

Whatever it was that had happened tonight—and whether it was the zombies, the adrenaline, or the hallucinations that were responsible—it had woken her up.

For the first time in a long time, Bella didn't know what to expect in the morning.

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Information/Credits/Disclaimers:

—All characters and events belong to Stephenie Meyer and to the publisher, Little, Brown and Company. Events from the movie(s) belong to the production and distribution companies.

—A nymph in Greek mythology and in Latin mythology is a minor female nature deity typically associated with a particular location or landform.

—A changeling is a creature found in Irish and Scottish folklore and folk religion. A changeling child was believed to be a fairy child that had been left in place of a human child stolen by the fairies. The theme of the swapped child is common in medieval literature and reflects concern over infants thought to be afflicted with unexplained diseases, disorders, or developmental disabilities.

—Bríd is based off of Bridget Cleary (Irish: Bríd Ní Chléirigh), who was an Irish woman killed by her husband in 1895. The motive for the crime was her husband's belief that she had been abducted by fairies with a changeling left in her place; he claimed to have slain only the changeling.

—Mackie Doyle is the main protagonist in Brenna Yovanoff's story The Replacement that was originally published in 2010 by Simon & Schuster Children's Publishing.

—Mrs. Yovanoff never stated in The Replacement that Mackie Doyle had to return to Mayhem, the underworld of the town he lives in. She only stresses that it would be wise for him to return to Mayhem because of fatal allergies to iron, blood, and consecrated ground that result with Mackie slowly dying in the human world.

—The idea that a changeling has to be returned to the Otherworld came from the Japanese belief that the human child must be returned before they ate fairy food, or else the exchange was irreversible. The Irish noted that the child may always long for fairyland.

—This chapter was not overlooked by a beta.

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Until next time.