"Honey, it's time for a change." My dad said tenderly, as if he really knew what was going on with me. He didn't know, he was just really good at pretending. But as good of an actor that he was, he still couldn't help me.

My dad had spent the last three yeas trying to help me. He had sent me to all of the best therapists, psychologists, and shrinks that money could buy. He had plenty of that, thanks to him owning a fortune 500 company.

All of the people who were paid to get inside of your head and mess around with it always asked me the same thing. "What made you this way?' and of course the famous "and how do you feel about that' ploy. I always gave them the truth; that I was allergic to ice cream sprinkles, and the moment that they hit my stomach I barfed. Several doctors could verify that claim. And that I could hold sprinkles longer than my mother ever held me.

We lived in a small town that was thirty-five miles from Boston, Massachusetts. Dad had to travel there everyday for his job. Thanks to that we lived in a 30 thousand square foot house that I didn't even want to know how many bedrooms it had. I owned two cars, a BMW M3 and a Porsche Boxster, my dad owned a total of ten cars, and I could tell you that there weren't any Hondas in that pile.

I went to an elite school a few towns away. It was the type of school where you were laughed at if you didn't get into the Ivies and there were Porsches and Mercedes in the student lot, and after every break people came back with bigger breasts and new noses.

Walking into school was like walking into a catalog, into a room full of beautiful people with perfect strait, white teeth. Everybody's favorite department stores were Barney's New York and Bergdorf Goodman or Bloomingdales. My favorite was Bergdorf Goodman for clothes and shoes and such. It was Bloomingdales for handbags and things like that.

My dad and I were always at every charity event out there simply because it looked good. I honestly didn't really care about the starving orphans in Somalia. I may have a few years ago when I wasn't so screwed up.

I used to be a sweet caring girl who was going to change the world for the better somehow. But then He happened. I wasn't talking about God.

I was happy. I was the only person who could beat the teachers at school at debate. I read a ton of books. If someone messed with my friends they weren't going to do it again after they saw me. I was one of those kids who you just knew was going to be famous someday and one of those that you knew was going to succeed and change the world for the better somehow in their lifetime.

So my dad and I were always at town hall unravelings and store chain openings. We were both always invited to the Inauguration ceremonies because daddy dearest always donated at least $500,000 dollars to president's campaigns. I always called the President-Elects by their first names. Their phone numbers were always on my dad's speed dial. God forbid they weren't.

"Honey, we can't figure out how to make you better or what even made you this way. You have to go. We've go to get you away from here. This is the place where it all started. You've got to go." I just sat and glared.

"Bella Marie Swan, when your mother was here we named you Bella Marie because we knew that your laugh was going to sound like bells and that you were going to accomplish great things in your life like your grandmother. We didn't know how, but we knew that you were going to." I burst.

"And so you've decided to send me to the person who decided to abandon me when I was less than a month old! You don't know how it feels to have to move three thousand miles away and go live with a woman who I haven't seen in seventeen years! The 'woman'" I said disgusted, "who left me for something that she thought was better!" I was yelling at the top of my voice and I had stood up.

"You don't know what it feels like to not be enough to tie your mother's life to yours." I added softly. I wasn't screaming anymore. My head was turned down, my eyes downcast. My hair had fallen into my face. I looked up slowly to see my affluent father's reaction. I sat back down.

"I know Belly, I know that I won't ever be able to feel your pain, but I don't think that not having a mother figure in your life is the only thing that's made you unwell." He added in an even softer tone than me.

"It's not Daddy. It's far from it, but you'll do a great job in getting that out of me."

"It will come out of you. Not from me, I know. Maybe someday you'll forgive me."

"Daddy, it's not your fault. I have nothing to forgive you for."

A half of an hour later I was already packing for my big move. My suitcases were Louis Vuitton of course.

All that I knew about my mother now was that she had gotten in touch with my father about a month before that day because apparently she wanted to meet me and have a bigger part in my life. She had married a guy who was a famous baseball player and that she lived on the west coast in San Clemente, CA. They made a ton of money, about as much as my dad, and they had two other kids. They were both adopted and they had the same age as me. They were in the same grade.

When I got to the Golden State I was going to the same elite private school that Alice and Emmet, her kids, went to.

I had absolutely no other information.

That night after I went to sleep and I had packed all I could I had a dream where I was falling and falling into an abyss. You couldn't see the bottom because it was so far down that it was black. And while there were bridges in places I couldn't land on them because I was freefalling, and I couldn't control where I was going. Nobody bothered to save me, so I just fell into the unknown darkness, unaware of what was going to await me at the bottom.

So Bella's BMW and her Porsche and all of her Louis Vuitton suitcases are posted on my profile! Review please!