Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight. I think we all know that. :p
"Nothing can last forever. There isn't any memory, no matter how intense, that doesn't fade out at last."
― Juan Rulfo
xXx
I'm one of those odd people. Those people who have trouble keeping still or have trouble reading words. Dyslexia and ADHD. I'm not diagnosed with much, but it's enough to get very specific people interested. I'm also one of those people with an interesting family background.
You see, I moved to America when I was five years old with my birth mother, Renee. Reasons why she would move her daughter when she's failing school used to confuse me when I was a child. I get it now, of course, but I didn't then. I just went along with what my mother told me, oblivious as ever. I didn't say anything and I didn't argue with her decisions. I stayed obedient and therefore, silent. A few months after arriving at Forks, Renee met a man. His name was Charlie Swan. They fell in love and got married ten months after. I was a brides maid, believe it or not. Charlie made us both happy, and I started to talk more and more, getting out of my shy shell that I'd hid in for five years.
Unfortunately, the marriage didn't last too long and after five years, they divorced. I didn't say anything when they fought. I just sat there in my room and prayed for it to stop. I just wanted a happy family to live with and Charlie was the best dad I had ever had. My only dad. We looked like each other too. With our dark brown locks and eyes; we could have passed as blood related.
We then moved on to Phoenix. I cried the day we left Charlie's but he tried to say strong for me. I adore him for that. Upon arriving at Phoenix, Renee met Phil Dwyer. They got married a few moths after.
Every summer I would go back to Forks to spend some time with Charlie. Renee went with me but Phil stayed at home in Phoenix. One summer, my twelfth birthday was being celebrated at Forks. But that's just it. That's all I remember. All I remember is having my twelfth birthday being held at Charlie's house in Forks. But the thing is. I don't remember it ever happening. I don't remember riding home in the police cruiser, opening my presents or blowing out my twelve candles. I don't remember it like Renee does.
I remember running. Fleeing to the woods from something. But that's where my memory of that day ends. Because I don't remember my twelfth birthday...
Instead I remember waking up on the twelfth of September and watching TV with Charlie, then the next thing you know, I'm not in Forks but in New York. Lying unconscious on a hospital bed in a place called Camp Half-Blood. They told me it was the fourteenth. That I arrived that morning. But I don't remember. I don't remember my birthday, I don't remember what I was running from and I don't remember how I came to be here.
Four years I've been trying to restore my memories of that day but without success. I still don't know how I came to have a scar on my wrist. Or how I seem to remember the pain that went through my body when receiving it. No picture, no images... just sounds. Screaming. My screaming. And the worst part is...
I don't remember.