Hi! This is my first ever fanfic, so I hope you enjoy it :) The story appears pretty cliche but it will get more exciting, promise. I'd love it if you could read&review! Thanks xo
I never thought things would work out this way. I was sure that when I was older, my shyness and naivete would fade away, like shedding a new skin. As a gawky thirteen year old, often scared by my own shadow, I remember my mother telling me how I could achieve whatever I day at school I'd just been picked on for wearing glasses. I sat, sobbing in my mothers lap as she hushed and stroked my hair, wiping away my hot tears.
"Everything looks so big and scary and life-threatening right now baby," She whispered, rocking me back and forth. "But when you look past this, and ignore the silly things they say, you'll be the stronger one."
"Really?" I snivelled. I couldn't picture me being described as strong. Strong was muscles and weight-lifting. Not me.
"Yes, really. Never let other people stand in your way Bella. You can achieve anything if you want it hard enough."
As i grew older of course, i grew less naive and a whole lot more cynical. These motherly, uplifting speeches of wisdom washed over me without a second thought. I'd roll my eyes as my mom spouted more babble about inner strength and confidence. Mom was often in her own little world, and I often tried - and failed - to keep her feet on the ground.
A part of me gets so angry with myself when i remember how i used to react to her advice. I'd shrug it off, act like it was pointless and a complete waste of time. I wish i'd just smiled instead, and kept my thoughts to myself. She never looked offended by my responses but I still regretted it. Now she's gone, I find I even miss the little things that used to thoroughly annoy me. Like how she never put her laundry away - but pile it up on her dresser until you couldn't see anything but a mountain of ironed clothes. Or how she'd forget to put things back in the refridgerator after she'd used them - that used to drive me crazy. When the house was getting packed up after the funeral, I found a melted container of butter left on the kitchen work top. It had obviously been left there since before her death. I picked it up, spilling warm melted butter all over the floor and my jeans. If it was somehow possible to half laugh, and half cry I did it that instant.
I missed her so much. I wouldn't be able to find an adjective strong enough to describe the strength of grief I felt whenever I thought about her. Her smell, her laugh, her smile. Her love that was just completely and utterly constant and never wavering. She was my best friend. And she was taken away.
Life, I've found, has a funny way of just carrying on. After every night i spent crying into my pillow, there was a morning and a sunrise. A new day, a new start. There would be nothing that could replace the void my mother left, but every day the wounds got less painful. The tears were less frequent. I wasn't forgetting her, or getting over her death - not by a long shot. But i was slowly coming to terms with my bad fortune. My mother was no longer alive, and I had to cope with that. It was a task of cataclysmic proportions, but I knew that her heart would break if she saw me acting the way i did.
Nearly two months had passed since the death of my mother. I was still living in my town of Phoenix, Arizona, where I grew up. Every day I'd walk through the streets and it just wouldn't feel right. It didn't feel like home anymore. Not without Mom. Since the house was sold, I'd been temperarily living with Phil - my mothers widowed fiance, in a rented appartment. It was only a short-term arrangement. I needed to complete my studies for the year, until I completely packed up and moved north to Washington, to live with my father. Thinking about moving to a completely new school made my stomach turn. I was still the gawky, shy girl I always was. I had a few friends in Phoenix, but my bashfulness often obliterated any form of friendship from the offset. I preferred to be alone. I could be truly comfortable by myself. The fact that I was prolonging the gut-wrenching wait to move because of my studies was also ridiculous. I'd already pretty much failed the entire year. Grief just does not care for grades. My teachers were very sympathetic when they heard about the news, and with a little extra credit work they agreed to let the bad grades slide. I was also a little unnerved by the fact that I'd have to move states and live with my father, Charlie. Charlie had never been completely absent. I used to spend every summer at his house in Forks, Washington up until I was about twelve. After that, Charlie was promoted to chief of police and it was almost impossible to fit me in around his tight work schedule. He'd sometimes come up to visit when he had a spare couple of weeks but it was often strained. The less I saw him, the less I had to talk about. Phone conversations were very short and a little awkward. I definitely follow in my fathers footsteps in terms of social skills. We're both born loners. He'd always remember my birthday though, and he was definitely more involved than alot of the fathers of kids i knew at school. Still, it had been years, I'd grown up alot since the last time I'd spent a considerable amount of time with him, and my mind filtered through possible conversation topics I could use when I had to actually talk to him. Of course, I'd seen him at the funeral but we mostly talked about Mom, or the move to Forks. Nothing light.
My stomach quickly filled with butterflies as i took one last glance around my bedroom, checking for any forgotten items i'd left lying around. All of my larger things had already been shipped to the house in Forks, all i had now was a suitcase and a carry-on bag. This was probably the last time I'd ever be in Phoenix. As much as it hurt to leave the place where I had such happy memories, I knew that starting somewhere new could be the best thing for me. So with a heavy sigh, I collected my things and left the appartment. Hello, new life.
I arrived in Forks at 7pm. The travelling had made me so tired I could barely keep my eyes open. My feet dragged as I made my way out into the airport arrivals lounge. I recognised Charlie straight away, bobbing from foot to foot, impatient for my entrance.
"Bella!" Charlie rushed to my side, but then seemed at a loss on how to say hello. He decided a hug was neccessary, so stiffly pulled me into his arms. Very awkward.
"How was your flight?" He asked, deftly picking up my suit case and bag, and making his way out to the car park.
"Tiring." I replied. I needed a goodnight sleep, badly. My conversation topics had also flown straight out of my mind too.
"Ah." Charlie was also lost for words.
We travelled through the town mostly in silence. I remembered the greenery, and the temperamental weather from past summers, but it was still a little culture shock. I better get used to it, i mused to myself. This was home now.
I spent the rest of the night unpacking my things, Charlie helped a little but soon realised he was more a hindrance. It was quite therapeutic, filliing my entry wardrobes and drawers. Charlie had left me some paperwork in regards to my new school - it was just a pack of welcome notes and things I needed to know about starting next week. Forks High school was apparantly very small and only had a couple of hundred students, which made it inevitable that trying to blend in unnoticed was going to be completely impossible.
That night, I slept in a cold, alien bed, wondering what the rest of my time here would bring. Foremost, I wished for happiness. Next to my bed I'd placed the framed photograph of my Mom and I, on the porch of the Phoenix house, smiling together. I blinked back the tears I knew were sure to come and whispered a tiny goodnight to her, before turning out the light.