My life was over.

I hate new towns, and their new town look you have to memorize. I hate new roofs, new houses and their new house smell. I hate new rooms, new views, and new sights.

Now this wasn't exactly true; I just hated the fact of us moving.

Change for me was somewhat a common subject; but that didn't mean I liked it.

And this was a big change.

I could bet this would be a change for just about anyone. The main fact was just that looking at the road here made you depressed. Probably it was because the road was the same color as the sky: a somber, dead, charcoal grey. Not a sight of blue.

And the rainforest on all sides didn't exactly help.

I was actually surprised it wasn't raining.

And what person in their right mind calls a town Forks.

"Hey Bella," Charlie called from downstairs, "Where are the forks and stuff?"

"It's in the box on the porch dad!" Bella shouted, "The one that says utensils!"

Her heel clad footsteps echoed on the wooden floor leading to my room. I didn't see the reason she wore heels in the first place. I glimpsed her as she walked through the open door. The carpet on the floor thankfully absorbed the sound.

Although I was on the floor, reading a book which was directly in front of my face, blocking the middle half of my one-eighty degree view, I could actually see her stance with her face screwed up as if she'd just eaten or seen something rotten.

For once I didn't blame her; an orange comforter isn't the most comforting, or welcoming, thing to see as soon as you walked into a room.

"Cough, cough." She said, propping her elbow up on the new nightstand.

I rolled my eyes at her girl language and propping up on my elbows, looked at her over the top of my book. From the almost expectant look on her face I knew she was going to ask me to do something for her. Again.

"No." I said before she could even voice another word and went back to reading.

"But Jake," she whined, "You don't even know what I'm going to say." She sat down beside me.

"Wanna bet?" I asked just before turning away from her.

Bella huffed and got back up.

"Jake don't you play." She said with less vigor than she actually had, "Stop being whiny because you didn't get to stay the one place where a girl actually tried to screw you."

I shifted but didn't turn to her. I wasn't going to tell her another time that it was so much deeper then that. That girl, Reneesme, wasn't even my girlfriend in the first place; she was so much more. She was my best friend. She was the first one I told about my lycanthropy. She was the first person who I could go to when Bella made me feel like an outcast and different than all the other students. She was the first one to make me feel normal to be a werewolf. She made me feel human when Bella wouldn't.

It may not have shown, but Bella was an evil girl, wanton and manipulative, dishonest and controlling. When she saw something she wanted she went after it. Charlie constantly said she was like her mother and that he was forever happy to get rid of the dark spot in his life, and meet my father. But the damage had still been done. Her first fourteen to fifteen years she had spent with her had reconstructed her innocent and child-like brain, to a beautiful young lady with a heart of lead, who used her beauty and sexuality for her own gain. When Bella was younger, she was clumsy and butter fingered; but although she didn't phase like I did, the werewolf hormones which got to her from Charlie, gave her all the girlish, sixteen year-old grace she needed.

"Bella, why do you find it necessary to berate me, even when I obviously try to avoid you?"

"Cause." She said simply, and then went to toy with my hair brush.

"Bella, please see yourself out my room. You know where the door is."

Her eyes narrowed at me with a glare that more than said shut up, you worthless dog.

As funny as I tried to make it when she glared, Bella was actually horrid when she didn't get what she wanted or got angry at someone. Charlie and I learnt to stay out of the firing zone around that time.

"Jacob, I want you to carry my boxes up to my room."

I did a double take, "Why?"

"Does there need to be a reason? I am your sister! Get off your lazy ass!"

I clenched my jaw at that, who the hell was she to order me around. She may have been my sister, but I wish she wasn't. A sister's supposed to be annoying, sure: But not to the point where you seriously want to shoot them in the brain.

She probably didn't realize that I was the actual werewolf here. Unless there was some unwritten werewolves rule that you couldn't kill family, Bella would be gone soon. Really soon.

The werewolf rule I wouldn't know though, my father hadn't exactly had the chance to tell me. Billy I meant, not Charlie.

Billy didn't imprint on Charlie, but he loved him like an imprint nonetheless. Before Billy was confined to a wheel chair, he could phase, and Charlie knew he was a werewolf. So once, when Charlie had just started training in the police force and gotten shot by accident, Billy had given him some of his blood to help heal the wound.

They broke up some months after though and Charlie got with Renee and had Bella: about two years later, they met up again, and Billy was surprised to see Charlie housed some werewolf traits. His skin was somewhat more resilient; he healed faster than most humans, and he still held more or less of that youthfulness he had when he was with him. Charlie, although with Renee, still loved Billy, so they shacked up and surprise surprise, Charlie got pregnant. So since Billy was my other dad, I got the direct werewolf traits; and although Billy died, I still phased, just because some dumbass vampire felt like having his summer holiday near me.

So Charlie and I packed up, ready to move to a more private neighborhood until Bella and Renee called and thus began the story of my life.

I didn't hate Bella, too much; I just particularly didn't like her. Something about her snide remarks, and the way she bossed people around just to get her own way, got to me.

I didn't think she really liked me either; she just tolerated me because we just happened to come from the same dad.

And although she only tolerated me, she had a love and respect for Charlie that made her put up with me.

"Bella." I growled.

She smiled stiffly. "Do you really want dad to know who broke that kid's leg?"

I froze up. That was one of too many incidents for my liking. But Bella had posed as my step-mother on the phone and fully assured the neighbors of the accident.

I still hadn't a cue why she helped me; but it was times like these when I think she did it for her own twisted blackmail benefits.

"Fine." I said, sitting up. "What do you want?"

"I want you to get the rest of my boxes upstairs, thanks, and kisses." She skipped off without a care. I secretly hoped her heels would get caught in a carpet and she'd fall flat on her face.

I groaned in frustration and made out of the door to go downstairs.

.,;:~`*'~:;,.

Two hours later; after helping Bella with cleaning out her room, after I got the boxes, I looked at my own bedroom with a pleased feeling.

Although I'd spent most of my time in Bella's room I still had to admit I'd done a good job.

I'd disposed of the clashing orange comforter to Charlie's room and taken his golden one instead. It made the room look pretty comfortable. The light yellow curtains, white walls and baby blue carpet worked together in a way that just wanted to make you stay for a while.

I couldn't help but think of the orange comforter now in dad's room. Maybe there was a reason no word in the dictionary rhymed with orange.

"Jacob." Charlie called from downstairs, "Dinner!"

"Coming!" I shouted back.

Another thing about Charlie was that he insisted we call him Charlie. I slipped up sometimes, but Bella made it her goal to call him dad, or daddy when she was whining. But Bella wasn't that important, besides, I hadn't eaten all day.

I took another look at my room, and turned to go downstairs.

.,;:~`*'~:;,.

The bed was oddly soft. I melted into the pillows and sheets. I curled up, warm and cozy even though I had a feverish skin. It was the first time I got to relax my joints all day. Besides tomorrow we were going into Port Angeles, I think it was named, to pick up anything else we might need. Food. Shoes. A night lamp. Real food.

Macaroni and cheese wasn't always considered a nutritious dinner.

Turning and relaxing once again in my sheets, I snuggled deeper into the comforter and drifted off to sleep.

Just press one button and tell me if I should actually take time out of my life to write this. I need to know. Thanks. XOLOXOLO. Werepire.