When I was young my father always used to tell me: never fight fire with fire. And since my childhood years those words of wisdom have remained with me, reminding me that my stubborn nature would never get me anywhere. My father was a wise man, he always knew what to say at the best and worst of times and he had helped me out of so many ridiculous situations that it seems ludricous. I miss him. He was my best friend and my parent ever since my young age. I never bonded with my fiery haired mother; as she left me at such a young age my only memory is the red hair that I'm sure I could have possibly imagined. I never found out what happened to her, as I grew I lost interest in search of her and decided on the mature option that if she loved me she wouldn't have left and so I grew up in the strong hands of my father. The greatest man I had ever met.

I lived on the outskirts of a unknown town, I never did learn its name I just knew that it was there and I have never once tresspassed out of the area that surrounds my house into the town. To me it didn't hold much of my interest, I preferred to sit beside the fire, reading a book by candle-light. Call me old fashioned but the light that flickers on and off the pages makes the story within come alive. It was completely probable to see me sat infront of the fire reading in its warmth until very early hours in the morning as I am sure some other people will do. I don't have any friends, a hard part to my childhood, I would often feel lonely and paranoid, but as I grew it didn't bother me at all. I was content with my life, it was what I had and I was grateful that my father was always there for me. Who needed friends when you had your father to support you? My point exactly. I suppose I do sound melodramatic, but that has never been my intentions.

At this particular moment in time, I am surprisingly not reading; just watching the pointless advertisements on my analogue box-like TV. I didn't mind the fashion of the TV just the contents it displayed, there was never anything that could hold my interests for long, possibly The Simpsons and an episode of Family Guy occasionally. Not much.

The living room had basically remained the same after all the years I had spent in this house. The same lemony wall-paper folding off the wall in corners that refused to be stuck back into place and an old oak floor with numerous holds and slots that our cat-Niffles- often could be found hiding under. The great red arm-chair remained the central point to this lifeless room, it was decent not nearly as old as some of the cabinets in this room. The most modern pieces of technology would be the TV infront of me and the telephone hung beside me head on the west wall. The rest of the yellow living room contained old cabinets filled with books and pens, the focal point of the right of the room and they would be by far the most educational part of this dull scenery.

I heard a ring from behind me coming from the brick that I called a phone. I let it ring a couple more times before lifting it up off the receiver and held it to my ear.

"Hello?" I said, in my 'posh' voice. This was the voice I saved for important phone-calls that regards me not paying my bills on time. This would be one of these times.

"Hello," A very nasal voice answered, "This is Lynda, from the department store in Portland." She said waiting for my recognition that I knew wouldn't be coming for a long time.

"Um...Yes?" I said, just to save time.

" From what we have heard you are in need of a job, am I correct?" Nosey cow.

"I believe so, yes. Why?"

" I could offer you a job at the department store, the shifts would be everyday at 5 until closure."

I nodded thinking through the possibilities, well I would have a job and then my house mortage could be paid off and I'd actually be able to pay my bills. But what was the catch?

"That would be very generous of you, but may I ask, what is the pay?" I could tell by the snort on the other line that this was a question she would have avoided.

" About $7 an hour. Are you interested?"

"Yes thank you. When can I start?"

"Tomorrow." And with that one word she hung up, I knew that our relationship wouldn't be a good one. Shame, I actually thought I might be able to get a stable job. Well, the debts my father had left me would provoke me to stick it out...I hope.

I looked around the room one last time before I went to bed, looking at the scene, a single salted tear ran down my cheek as I remembered all the things that had gone on in this room. As I walked to check that the front door was locked I was bombarded by constituting thoughts of my mother.

From what my father had told me, she wasn't a decent woman. The stress of providing a family was too much for her, so she skipped out and escaped from this inconsequental town that I call my home. Although I had long given up searches and longings for her, she was often in my thoughts, I sometimes thought about her and what she was doing, who she was with. When I didn't think of her I thought of my father, Charlie Swan. He was the police cheif in town and was either at work or with me. He would often be seen at work-it was his life- and I knew that he loved it ever so much. It was the thing he was best at and he kept the town in shape for so many years. A year back my dad was sent to brake up a riot in Port Angeles just north of Forks. Some stupid teenagers we stood infront of a resturant with guns held to eachother. My father intruded and that wasn't in his best books, but it was his job. However, one of the teenagers didn't agree with him stepping in. He was shot in the chest and the bullet ripped away at the main artery leading to the heart, there was nothing that they could do to save him.

The boys were sentenced to eleven years in jail- not a very just punishment in my opinion, but enough- and it had taken a long time for me to look back at the memories without being reduced to a nervous mess. I didn't like to consider myself as being alone per say, but it was inevitable. I was left to care for myself at the mere age of seventeen and I had dropped out of school in attempts to find a job and pay off the mortages. It was only sheer luck that I got a job and I didn't stay with them long, I am minded to attracting trouble with my bad luck and disabling clumsyness.

I missed my father looking after me and not having to worry about anything except my schoolwork, but those days have long passed and you could say that I have indeed been matured beyond my years.

Everything was secured shut and I stalked up to my room, glancing out at the rain sheets before drawing the transparent curtains shut and hanging my clothes on the rocking chair in my room. I slipped into some comfortable sweats and flung myself beneath the cold bed waiting for my body-heat to warm it up and when it did I laid flat and looked up at the ceiling. It was purple like the rest of my room. I followed the same patterns as I did every night, tensing my muscles then releasing them one by one, I did have trouble sleeping. My dreams weren't what you call pleasent and are often very vivid and clear and it was often that I wouldn't know the difference between my dream-or nightmare- and reality.

I didn't fall into an easy slumber, but I hadn't expected to.

The next day, I laid in bed until late afternoon, after not being able to reach sleep until the early hours of the morn. I knew that there wasn't much to do at home anyway. I kept the house in decent shape and I had done all the basic chores before settling down last night. I considered going to the cemetary to visit my fathers grave and lay down some new flowers, but I knew I didn't have the money to buy the flowers and I had to save my petrol so that I could make it up to Portland and back. I don't exactly know where abouts this department store is, or the name of it either, but my guess was that it would either be in Forks or Port Angeles. I had wandered to Port Angeles on occasion once with my father and from the shops and stores I had seen it wasn't the place that would hold a department store anyway. So that left my predictions to Forks, if it was in Forks I would be able to ditch my truck tomorrow and walk instead, it wasn't far just a few kilometres.

After spending sometime looking off the highway I found it at last. 'Newtons Hardware Store' a sigh of relief crossing me. When I entered the lady; Lynda showed me around and told me that my job was on the counter along with Mike Newton, son of the owners. I recognized the name and when I saw his round child-like face I automatically made the connection, he had gone to high-school with me. He seemed friendly enough-despite his hopless attempts at flirting- and for the first time in my life I had a friend or an aquaintance at least. He was quite fun to talk to and he did pry alot.

"Are you Charlie Swan's daughter?" He asked. I nodded bluntly, frankly I was too tired to speak, who knew a shop could be open so late.

"Yes, I am." I replied after a minute.

"Um..." He paused nervously, I signalled for him to continue, I may aswell get this in the open rather now than later, "Why... umm did you drop out of school." He said scratching behind his kneck awkwardly and developed a rather ugly red patch above his eyebrows.

"When my dad passed,"gulp, "Well he didn't leave me enough money to pay for the house, so I dropped out to get a job."

A look of utter sympathy contorted his face and it was hard to see, not because it hurt me or anything, but because this was the reason I had avoided telling anybody. I refused to tell any nosey bugger that walked passed me on the street. I did what my dad had always told me to do, 'hold your head up high, no matter how hard it might be.' So that is what I did and I owe so much to those words of wisdom, because without my dads consoling words-even in my memory- I don't know where I would be.

The door opened, ringing the bell ontop of it, breaking off our conversation and diverting our attention to the customers just passing through the door.

"Bella? Could you take care of these customers I just need to call Jessica." I nodded in reply and watched him exit the room before averting my eyes to the family.

I automatically felt my jaw drop, forcing myself to keep it attached to my body, all I could do was gawk at the family. I knew they were related, they had to be, all alike yet different. One trait was evident, an unnaturally pale skin that seemed to glow from the light and very sweet topaz eyes the drifted over the room together. There were five of them. My attention was momentarily captured by the two at the front, one was huge-burly-intimidatingly so and yet still so attractive with black curls that cascaded to his ear and a dimple imprinted on his cheek at his radiating grin, his teeth paling pearls. The girl beside him was unlike anyone I had ever seen in my life, she had a figure of a goddess and long golden her that atleast reached her mid-waist, she was perfect and I automatically checked myself over feeling insecure around her. Her face was hard –almost set in stone- but still so beautiful.

The other two behind them were holding hands-it was odd- one was very tall, yet lean, he was handsome beyond the norm but looked as if he was in great suffering, I saw the short girl beside him give his hand a little squeeze. His ruffled his other hand to his nose, blocking it, then releasing it. He was too blonde and looked very gorgeous. The girl beside him was petite in the extreme, her skinny figure seemed to only be able to hold her up, she had short black hair that tufted out everywhere in a strange stylish way, she had her mouth twisted into a smile, and looked very pleasant.

The latter had bronze hair, tousled and styled it shimmered into the moonlight and I saw a wave of red. He was so beautiful, not bulky and not lean, but perfect. I felt my mouth water as I looked over his physique, it hurt to look at him. I saved his face for last knowing it would be the adonis, the god of someone's fantasy, the image of beauty in imagination. No, I was wrong, it was so much better, so much more beautiful never in my life did I think any boy could be as wholesomely perfect. His ran a hand through his hair and tousled it more, it looked so seductive I began to hold myself in place with the counter-top. He looked over at me. A hard look plastered on his face, he looked ready to kill, like he wanted to kill me. His hand shifted by his side clenching into a tight fist ready to smack anything insight and I reflexively feared my life. He looked so threatening but still so gorgeous it was hard to see how the two fit together. He lingered at the back.

"Hello, I'm Bella Swan, what can I do for you today?" I asked politely at them as a whole not singling anyone out.

"Hello Bella," the young black-haired girl said loping forwards, her voice resembling chiming bells, "I'm Alice Cullen, and these are my brothers and sister, Emmett, Rosalie, Jasper and Edward." She said pointing out each individual. Ah, names for the beautiful faces, how they suited them so well. "Yes you could help us actually, we're looking for some hiking equipment for my parents." She said sweeping a look around the store before locking eyes with me.

They were topaz again, I looked back over to Edward-the boy at the back- and I instantly saw and regretted the difference, his eyes had changed, turned to an onyx colour. He looked at me with pure resentment and loathing. I shuddered backing over to some bag packs and indicating at some equipment.

"Alice, I'm going to wait in the car." He said rather harshly before exiting at an unhuman pace.