IMPORTANT AUTHORS NOTE: So, I originally published the first six chapters of this story back in 2011 and the last updated was way back in 2013. A lot has happened between then and now – which stopped me from finishing this story – and, in preparation for NaNoWriMo this year, I have pledged to see this story through this time around. I think it will be a good way to get my creative juices flowing. If you have notifications for this story on already, these first six chapters are a little different from what you read originally. I noticed a few aspects about the story that just wouldn't make sense and a few plot holes I felt desperately needed to be dealt with. As always, please review. It helps me know I am going in the right direction.
Disclaimer: As much as I would love to own a massive franchise like Twilight, I own nothing that is recognizable from the original novels/movies. I only own Spencer/Mikayla.
Prologue
The rain pounded against the roof as a petite, russet-skinned woman tip-toed slowly through the house. A lightning strike lit the hallway as she softly turned a small brass door knob and entered into the pink painted room it was connected to. Directly to the left of the door was a small princess bed, pink to match the rest of the small bedroom. The woman pulled a bag, which she had packed earlier that day, from under a child's bed and slung it over her shoulder. In the bed, in a mass of pink blankets, was a young girl - around the age of three or four - who bore a striking resemblance to the woman. Without hesitation, the woman took the child in her arms and back-tracked out of the room, moving as quickly and quietly as she could through the house and out the front door. Outside, the rain fell in sheets and the wind howled, whipping the trees in a frenzy. The woman ran to her old Ford that was parked on the dirt driveway. After buckling the toddler in the back seat, she hurried to the driver's side and closed the door, shutting herself off from the cold, wet surroundings. She gripped the wheel, resting her head against it with her keys clutched so tightly in her fists that they were leaving indentations. The two sides of herself fought, each screaming, ringing in her mind. Tears streamed down her face and she looked back at the child in the back seat. She studied her features; small hands, thin body, thick, dark hair, deep russet skin, golden brown eyes wild with anticipation and curiosity. The dark side of the woman won the battle, in that moment. She faced forward, shoving the key into the ignition and starting the car. She backed out slowly, with the lights off, until she reached the street. Then she kicked them on and peeled out down the street, leaving La Push as fast as her Ford would carry.