If there was one word Vale could use to describe his life in Texas, he would say it was impossible. He would say you needed two words to describe it. They would be normal conditionally. Simple as that. El Paso, Texas was dull, uneventful, and boring. He lived his life like everyone else, quietly and privately, in the comfortable silence of his house. He attended the local high school, taking average classes and passing with average grades, like everyone else. He ran track, like most of the kids his age, and, like everyone else, when the day was over, he went home. Vale's day's were exactly like the days of those around him. He felt like he was stuck in giant circle of misery and boredom, with no way out. His routine was always the same, never faltering. And even though he dreaded getting up every morning and living the life he knew he could not escape, it was the worst, he had decided, when he was at home.

"VALE! WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN?! Came his mother's screeching voice as soon as the heavy wooden front door had fallen shut with a loud bang to broadcast Vale's arrival. The woman's loud shriek was still reverberating through the young teens ears as a tall, thin woman appeared at the archway to the kitchen of the small house. She had long, dark black hair with straight across bangs that rested upon her long, elegantly curled eyelashes. She had dark, almost navy blue eyes and a thin, straight nose. Her dark, blood red lips were curved into a sinister frown as she bore into her son. Her long, spidery fingers were curved around her hips, and she was tapping her black-painted finger nails to alert her son to her annoyance. The woman was beautiful, in her own way, and it was certainly a mystery to everyone who had never gotten to know her how she could possibly be single.

"Nice to see you, too, mother," he muttered under his breath. Vale took a deep breath and began taking slow strides to the staircase just behind the woman. She sneered.

"Don't you walk away from me!" she threatened in the most sinister undertone she could muster. Vale ignored her and continued toward his target. "I SAID DON'T YOU INGNORE ME!" she screeched before reaching out and clutching his arm, digging her long, sharpened nails into his flesh. She yanked his arm as hard as possible, successfully spinning him around to face her. She brought up her right hand and brought it down hard against his face. It left a long red marks where her fingers hit and there were now small slits where she had succeeded in digging her claws into his cheek.

Vale stared straight into her hate stricken eyes. He refused to look away from the woman. To do so would make it worse. To do so would be to acknowledge her presence. To do so would be to submit. Vale refused to submit. Not having enough, the woman smacked him again. Harder. Vale could feel the crimson blood trickling down his face. All of his senses were on hyper alert. He felt every last blow she was now hitting him with, adrenaline coursing through his veins. Finally, after he was sure the side of his face would be permanently purple, she spat at him. "Get the hell out of my face. Go to your room and don't come out." She thrust him toward the stairs, and without a second thought, Vale scrambled up to him room before she could change her mind.

He had to leave. He needed to get out of there. He couldn't take it anymore. Not the way his life droned on, or how everything had to be exactly perfect, and especially not his mother. As he contemplated just how he could get away from the sinister woman, he shuffled around his small cot to the cracked mirror he had found on the side of the road one day to examine the extent of damage the vile bitch had done. Staring back at him, with red-rimmed eyes, was a short, raven-haired boy with emerald green eyes and pale pink lips. His skin was pale, powdered white, like porcelain, and his features curved and soft. The boy was thin and petite, slight in frame with long, elegant, fragile-looking features. Yet, he did not appear feminine. He didn't exude masculinity either, but he was far from girly.

Vale ran his thin fingers through his long bangs that cut across his face and covered on eye partially. The rest of his hair was shaggy and long. As much of his appearance being inherited from his mother as was evident in him, Vale looked scarcely like her. He was glad for it, as he didn't want to resemble her. He never wanted to remember her once he left. He would rather be like his dad, tall, well-muscled, strong. His dad! And then he knew how he was going to escape.

Vale opened his white wooden door slightly so he could peer through the crack out into the hall. The sounds of fake laughter and mindless rambling came from the large TV downstairs, and the smell of tomato sauce wafted towards him. His mother was downstairs, cooking, and watching sitcoms, while he starved upstairs. How nice. He opened the door completely and crept down the hall, rushing past the staircase so his mother wouldn't see him. He took a deep breath when he reached the end of the hall and creaked open his mother's bedroom door. He crept inside and looked around to spot his target. There was a large, king sized bed sitting grandly in the middle of the room between two windows that were swathed in white curtains. Next to the bed was a short, black nightstand that was covered in pictures of everyone but himself, and… bingo.

The short teen shuffled over the antique bronze phone that was sitting pristinely in the center of the clutter. He picked up the receiver and began dialing his father in Washington.

"Hello?" came a groggy voice on the other line. His dad.

"Dad! Oh, I'm sorry, did I wake you up?" Vale's mood was already lifting.

"No, no, I was just napping… eh. What's up?"

"Dad, I need you to come pick me up." There was a short, pregnant silence between the two lines.

"Why? Isn't Daphne taking care of you? Why do you need me?" His father asked. Vale could hear it wavering, as hard as his dad tried to sound nonchalant.

"No, dad. I need to go with you. Just… please." His voice held a hopeless desperation. He didn't know how long he would be able to stand living with his mother. Recently, she hadn't been too terrible, only hitting him, but his back was littered with large purple bruises and long, deep gashes. There we even a few marks where it looked as though he had been beaten with a belt and welts were springing up all over.

"Sure, sure. I'll come get you. I'll be there tomorrow, It'll be okay." He reassured his son.

"Dad, but how…" Vale now openly wondered. How smart could his plan really be? "How are you going to get a ticket an everything such short notice?" Vale needed his father to get him as soon as possible, but it could take weeks. He should have done this a long time ago.

"Leave that to me. Your safety is much more important right now," he said. Vale could distantly hear his mother's heals clicking around below him. And then the creak of the first stair.

"Oh shit! Dad, I have to go, mom's coming! Bye!" He whispered urgently into the phone. He shoved it down quickly and sprinted to the door.

"VALE? WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?" he saw through the door his mother peering into his room. Oh hell. He was screwed. Vale pulled open his mother's door, and dashed to the right down the hall to the bathroom. When he reached his destination, he threw himself inside and closed and locked the door.

"In the bathroom," came his muffled reply.

"I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU NOT TO LEAVE YOUR ROOM?" She yelled. He heard her heals clicking again, toward the bathroom, and then her fist pounding against the door.

"Would you like your house to smell like urine? I didn't have much a choice."

"DAMNIT, YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE BASTARD! GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE!' She commanded him. Vale sighed and turned on the tap, ran his hands under it, dried them on his jeans to create the illusion of really going to the restroom, and opened the door.

As soon as the cool air from the hall graced him, the warm tingling from his mother's palm stung the side of his face. He was going to play hell covering up today's damage tomorrow. Mostly covering up the bruises consisted of using make-up to cover up the redness and then a light bronzer to conceal the darker splotches. That had been the only thing his mother ever bought him. Make-up to cover her mistakes. He felt more blood running down his face. Vale sighed.

"That will teach you to listen to me!" She bellowed, took one last gut wrenching glance at him, and swiftly retreated to the kitchen.

"Bitch," he muttered, under his breath and walked quietly to his room. His hand subconsciously came up to cradle his face. It didn't hurt when she hit him anymore, but it wasn't pleasant anymore. It just stopped affecting him. He became used to the pain, the sting, and later, the covering up of bruises. It just didn't bother him anymore.

When he was safely inside the confines of his room, he closed the door as gently and silently as possible and pushed a chair in front of it. His mother had torn of the lock, but he could still keep her out when he needed. When he was sure it was securely shut, he grabbed the small black duffel bag he had bought with the money he had gotten from selling a long silver chain his father bought him and placed it on his bed. He unzipped it, and without hesitation, began cramming it full of every personal item he could think of, which wasn't much. His favorite book, a golden chain that was his grandmother's, 3 pairs of skinny jeans, one pair was dark wash, one black, and one a silvery light wash, his make-up, and a few of his favorite shirts. He didn't have anything else he really wanted, and he was already wearing his vest and tie. They were his favorite things, and he wore them constantly. He thought they looked nice, and different. Vale had always stood out from everyone else, and truth be told, it was the one thing he really enjoyed.

Once he had everything important stashed in his bag, he shoved it under his bed, kicked of his shoes and socks, and lay down. Tomorrow he would be on a plane to Washington with his dad, far away from his mother. He couldn't wait.

What time it was when he drifted off to sleep, Vale had no idea. All he knew was it was Saturday, and he must have slept in, judging by the sun that was now glaring into his eyes from his mud caked window. The green eyed boy sat up in bed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, then wiped the drool from the side of his mouth. Today was the day, then. He would leave today, and go with his father.

Most of yesterday's cover-up was still caked onto his face and he only had to dab a little more powder on his cheek to cover up the newer bruises or the spots where his mother's blows had wiped it off.

Vale nearly fell of his bed when he heard the doorbell ring. Downstairs, he could hear his mother pull open the front door, and then his father as he forced his way inside. "PEANUT!" his father's voice called the nickname up the stairs. Now was the time. Vale snagged his bag from under his bed, threw the chair in front of the door to the side, and nearly flew out of his room and downstairs. When he reached the landing, he rushed to his father who pulled him into a rib-cracking hug.

"WHAT IS THIS?!" His mother shrieked. Vale smirked as his father glared at her.

"I'm taking Peanut home with me. He called me last night to ask me to pick him up. And, judging by his bruised face," his father ran a thumb over his cheek. Vale winced, "He had good reason."

"You noticed that?" Vale mumbled into the crook of his father's neck. He smelled nice, and wrapped in his arms, Vale felt safe for the first time in nearly 12 years. He had been 4 when his parents divorced and his mom won custody over him. But he had a feeling that was all about to change.

"How could I not?" His father mumbled back, "I can't wait until you're mine. I'll never let anyone hurt you again." The words filled Vale with a warm feeling of hope. Akin, his father, turned his head from his son and glared at his ex-wife.

"What?" she spluttered, "You can't! YOU CAN'T! I WON! I WON CUSTODY!"

"I know, Daphne," his father retorted coolly, "I made a mistake letting that happen. But I have authority now, and you can't stop me. I'm taking him. I'll let you know when the new trial will be."

"What authority," she snarled, "You have no less authority than he does!" She pointed angrily at Vale.

"Mother," Vale stated, ignoring the meaningful glances he was getting from his father that warned him to keep his mouth shut, "You can't do anything. I'm going to Forks with dad, and you can't stop us." Daphne looked thoroughly put out by this. Akin stared at her, daring her to object.

When Daphne started looking ready to kill again, Akin took a bold step forward and pushed Vale behind him. "I am a cop. I am taking Peanut. There is nothing you can do." He muttered with enough force to knock over an elephant.

"FINE! GO! I DON'T EVEN WANT HIM!" She finally announced. His father ushered Vale to the door then, and swept him through.

"It was nice to see you, Daphne," Akin muttered before slamming the door shut. He had a feeling the next insult she would throw would be toward Vale. He tried with all his might to protect him from anything else she could possibly say to him, but he had a sinking feeling that Vale had heard her scream, "HIS NAME ISN'T PEANUT! IT'S VALE! MISTAKE!" through the swiftly closing door.

The second Vale was loaded into the passenger seat and his bag was wedged between his feet, Akin turned to his son. "I heard her," Vale mumbled. "Mistake."

Akin's expression faltered. "Peanut, I'm so sorry."

"No, no, it's not your fault. She calls me it a lot," he confessed, "But why?" No one had ever told him why. Why his mother called him mistake and his father hated to call him Vale. Akin took a deep breath. He knew one day he would have to tell his son the truth, but he still didn't like it.

"Alright, here it goes," he began, launching into the tale, "When you were born, your mother said you were the biggest mistake she had ever made. To get pregnant with you. I still loved you, however, because I still loved her. I was blind to her hatred for me, and we lived like this, in solitude, for 5 years. When she named you Vale, she told me it was Estonian for blessing." Vale remembered. His mother's parents were from Estonia.

"Excuse me? Since when did she think I was a blessing?"

"She never did. Vale means mistake, or zero. I didn't know. I would have changed it…"

"No, dad, it's not your fault." He assured the shaken man. "You don't have to tell me any more," he added when he noticed the man was on the verge of tears.

"Thanks, peanut." He sniffed. Vale smile fondly. His dad glanced down at his meager bag. "Where's all your stuff?" He questions, rubbing his eyes.

"I don't have much, dad. Only the clothes you bought me and a few things from David."

"But how can you fit all of it in that little bag? How many clothes do you have?" His dad looked worried as he started the car and blazed down the empty freeway.

"I have 3 pairs of jeans and about 5 shirts. And grandma's chain," he added. "And a book David gave me for Christmas. The catcher in the Rye? I like it a lot."

"Oh, yeah, how is David?" his father asked. He remembered Vale's friend from the last time he visited. Vale's eyes dropped to his hands, which he began wringing nervously.

"Dead."

"Excuse me?!" his dad did a double take.

"He was murdered last year," Vale drifted into the story, "He found his brother in an alley, being stabbed to death. Neck was slit. He was already dead, but David didn't know, and found the killer. His parents told me he asked the killer to kill him instead. He did. Only it wasn't instead. It was more like 'kill me too.'" Akin looked shocked as he stared at his son, wide-eyed. A deer in the headlights.

"I went to his funeral, got beat pretty bad for being late by mom, but it was worth it. He looked so pale, but also different. Like," Vale thought he would sound a little gay saying this, "hotter. That sounded faggish." Akin chuckled slightly, but nervously, at his son. He had the suspiscion that his son may be bisexual, if not gay. "And he was freezing cold." he added.

Feeling the need to comfort his son, Akin pulled the boy in for a one-armed hug. "Thanks for telling me," he said. "Must've been hard. I'm sorry you had to go through that."

"It's okay. Don't apologize. Not your fault," Vale mumbled back.

"Yeah," Akin said awkwardly, "Well, about your clothes, I don't have much money, but maybe we can see if we can't find you anything more to wear."

"Dad, really, you don't have to…"

"But I want to, peanut. This is the beginning of a new life, a better life. I want you to be happy, and have everything. And I won't let money get in the way." As his father talked, Vale noticed they had long since passed the airport.

"Uh, dad? Sorry to change the subject, but where are we going?" Akin looked over at his son sheepishly.

"Like I told you," he said, "I don't have much money. I couldn't afford plane tickets for both of us, so we're driving. But we can use the time to catch up, eh?" He asked hopefully.

"3 days in a car with you?" Vale confirmed. Akin looked beaten down t his son's words.

"Sorry, Peanut, I should have borrowed money, I-"

"No, dad, don't apologize," he smiled at the man next to him, "It's great." And he meant it.

The car trip passed quicklier than Vale had expected. The two men talked, joked, laughed, and discussed how Vale's life had been, and about the impending trial. His father had assured him that so long as Vale still wished to testify against his mother and would show the scars and bruises she had given him, there really was no chance she would regain custody. Vale was interested in hearing what his dad had to say, and enjoyed hearing about the odd things he ran into, being a cop, but the conversations that stuck out most in his mind were the ones about how life in Forks, Washington, where his father lived, was going to be like. For the most part, he thought he would enjoy it. Vale had always loved the rain, and Akin had assured him that it rained nearly everyday. Plus, Vale had deduced it was relatively small, and had turned his father down on the offer to ride to school on the pretense that he would walk instead to replace all the track practices he would miss. There was no track team in Forks.

"You'll love it, son. Rains all the time, real small and friendly. The kids there are nice, a few of them give me a fair amount of trouble, but it's nice nonetheless."

Vale spent very little of the car trip asleep, so it didn't surprise him that when they finally arrived in the sleepy little town of Forks, all he wanted to do was crawl into a hole and fall into a coma for a few weeks. Akin pulled into the driveway of a two story brick house that was blanketed by bare trees. Vale loved it. "Your room is that one," Akin pointed to one of the windows on the right. The house was perfectly symmetrical. "Mine's the one on the left. And we share a bathroom," he informed his son.

"Dad, this house is amazing. I love it." Vale smiled brightly.

"I know it's not what you're used to, but I've told you I can't afford much…"

"Dad." Vale looked very seriously over at his father. "Is there a bed with a proper mattress in that room?" Akin stared stunned at his son and nodded. "Than it's better than anything I've ever had." Akin looked shocked for a minute, but then understanding flooded his features. And he smiled.

"I'm glad you like it here." Akin admitted. The two got out of the car, Vale hoisting his bag out as well and took the liberty of tearing a branch off one of the trees while his dad unlocked the house. "What are you doing with that tree?" his father chuckled, leaning against the door frame and twirling his key ring around his index finger.

"Decoration. I like the way the tree looked," Vale shrugged and shuffled up the stone steps to his father. Akin ruffled his son's hair and allowed him inside. Vale took a quick look around. To his left was a small living room with a flat-screen TV sitting proudly in front of an old ratty couch and a tattered coffee table. To his left was a bright kitchen, and in front of him a tall staircase. "Dad, this is really nice," he said. Akin scratched the back of his neck nervously.

"You like it?"

"Jesus Christ, dad, how many times do I have to tell you, everything is amazing. Thanks." Vale smiled at his father. "Hey, I'm tired, I'm gonna go take a nap, okay?"

"Sure, son, me too. That car trip took a lot out of you, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Me too. Here, let me show you your room. It's not the same as it was the last time you visited… I replaced a few things over the years. It's embarrassing…"

"No, dad, it's not, what did you do?"

"Every couple of years I fixed it up a little… I always hope you might come back and I wanted to be ready." Vale rushed at his father then, and pulled him into a gut-wrenching hug. And then he cried so hard, he thought he would never stop. He loved his dad. And he was sure now he was safe. No one would ever lay a hand on him again.

"Hey, hey, why don't I show you?" Akin soothed as he rubbed his son's back. This little miracle in his hands.

"Sure, dad, thanks," Vale sniffed. Akin led him up the stairs to the bedroom on the right. Vale immediately noticed the window in front that overlooked the street and the tree that cast a sillouhette against the sharp, clear glass pane. There was another window on the side wall that only showed trees upon trees. One branch knocked against the glass. He loved it. In the center of the room, against the back wall, was a queen size bed made of dark wood with a dark black comforter and bright orange pillows. It looked like Halloween. Against it about 5 feet from the window was a desk made of the same wood as the bed. There was a dresser on the opposite side of the bed, but that was the only furniture in the room. The chair to the desk had an orange seat and the carpet was white, but had a plush orange and black speckled carpet. The walls were painted bright blue. It was the most amazing room Vale had ever been in. It was so minimal. "Oh my god…" Vale said and pulled himself from his father's grasp to inspect the furniture. "Dad, how did you afford this?"

"Actually, that's a story. I have a friend here in town, Dr. Carlisle Cullen? He saw me buying a twin bed from Waylin and offered me his son's old furniture. I turned him down, but he brought it over anyway. Didn't even charge me. That man is amazing, he is."

"He sounds extremely nice."

"He is. His kids don't give me any trouble." Akin smiled at the thought.

"I'm sure they don't… Dad, you knew my favorite colors. Where did you get this stuff?"

"Ah, well, the comforter and pillows and rug were Jacob's, you know the Blacks? Think you dated Jacob… Guess he likes orange and Black, too." Vale nodded in recognition of Jacob. He used to date him. He noticed then that the comforter looked tattered and worn in some places. The bed, however, looked completely new, like no one had ever even touched it. There was even a thin layer of dusk collecting on the wood. Dr. Cullen's son, he realized, must take really good care of his items, if he even used them. There was an alarm clock on the desk, also. It was silver, and stood out from the rest of the room, yet seemed to co-exist with the wood furniture. "I collected the whole room over the course of a year."

"Dad, thank you," Vale smiled and turned to his dad. "It's amazing."

"Glad you like it, Peanut. Get some rest. You start school tomorrow."

"Aw, shit, I remember. Jeez, and on a Wednesday too. Okay, well…"

"Hey, I have to head out early tomorrow, so there's cereal in the kitchen and you can borrow my shampoo and things until we get your own. Oh! And there are toothbrushes under the sink…."

"Dad, thanks, but I can fend for myself, okay? I have been for twelve years."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," he yawned. "Night, peanut. I'm glad I have you back."

"Me too. Night, Dad." Vale smiled warmly. When Akin was gone, Vale placed his tree branch on the desk straight up so it looked like a miniature tree in his room. It was the most beautiful, amazing, perfect thing he had every seen. He sat down on the edge of his bed. Tomorrow was going to be a long day. He lay down and stared at the ceiling, thinking of just how great things were turning out, until he fell asleep. Before he drifted off, he decided, if there was one word Vale could use to describe his new life in Forks, it would be safe.