Disclaimer: I don't own the twilight series.

Prologue

"It's funny, how most people can define someone by one word. For some people that word is jock, prep, goth, nerd, or punk. Cancer. My word is Cancer. My name is Isabella Swan. I'm seventeen years old. Unlike most teenagers, I'm not normal. I'm not classified as weird, popular, or anything in between. I'm classified as the girl who has had cancer twice already."

When I was six years old, I was diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic leukemia. It took me only eighteen days to get into remission. The doctors said that if you had to have cancer, my case was the best to have. It was the most curable form of childhood cancer, and it was low risk too. For the next two and a half years I was treated with countless chemotherapies, steroids, and other medicines that made me feel terrible. I constantly had to go into the hospital to get spinal taps and bone marrow biopsies. I was nine years old, and things were looking up. They hadn't found a single cancer cell in me for two years. In cancer terms, that means that I was off treatment. That means I was cured.

One day, when I was eleven, my mom decided that I needed my first bra. She took me to the store, and had me try on a few. While I was in the changing room, my mom threw back a yellow bra. It wasn't like the other sports bras that I had been trying on; it was a real bra with a hooked back and everything. I tried it on, but I couldn't get the back hooked. My mom asked me if it fit, and I told her that I couldn't get it on. So my mom, being the over protective mother that she is, decided to practically leap in the changing room to help me. When she saw me, all of the color in her face drained. She was as white as a ghost. She stood there for a few seconds, her eyes wide. She was frozen. My face must've been so twisted in confusion, because she finally snapped out of it.

"Put your clothes back on, we're leaving," She was choking back tears. I thought that maybe she just couldn't stand to see her baby girl growing up so fast. I didn't want to leave.

"What? Why? This is so unfair!"

"NOW Isabella Marie! We are leaving NOW!" She used my full name. That meant that I was in trouble. I put my clothes on, and quickly followed her out of the store to the car. We didn't buy anything. She started driving, and she wasn't saying a word to me. I didn't dare to say a word to her either. I thought that I did something wrong. She flipped out her orange cell phone. I remember how proud she was to buy that cell phone. It was one of those Sprint Charity phones. Whenever you buy one, half of the money you spend on it goes to the charity that the phone is assigned. Since that one was orange, it went to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, and she was very proud to say that her kid was a survivor. She started dialing numbers. Because of how quickly she dialed them; I knew that it was one of two people. It was either my dad Charlie, or my Oncologist Paige. She's had those numbers engraved in her head since the day dad got a job as a cop, and the day I was first diagnosed.

My mom was full on crying when the phone started ringing. I didn't know what was going on, so I was silently praying that she wasn't mad at me, and that I didn't hurt her. "Can I please speak to Officer Charlie?" She was trying real hard to sound like she wasn't crying, but I didn't think that she was doing too well. "It's an emergency, I need to speak to him now!" It hit me. The word emergency hit me. Whenever you hear the word emergency in our house it means that something isn't good. Let me rephrase that, something is very wrong, and unfortunately, it usually has to do with my health. I blocked out the rest of the conversation on the phone, and decided to look out the window instead. We were driving very quickly; we were passing all of the other cars, but what I noticed the most is that we weren't driving home. We weren't driving to the station. I knew where we were going by now. We've been down this road it seems a million, dreaded times. This was the road to all the spinal taps, all the clinic visits, all the bone marrow biopsies, all the screams, all the crying, and all of the port accesses. This was the road to Children's Hospital in Arizona. It was a fifteen-minute drive from my house, but my parents hold the record. They can make it there in only five minutes, three minutes when we have the police cruiser. When we arrived at the hospital, my dad was already there, waiting for us. My mom took me inside the hospital, and didn't even check in. She grabbed my hand and ran my father and me to the oncology wing. As we were running down the hallway to Paige's office, many of the nurses greeted us by name, but also had a look of sorrow. They knew what was happening. I knew what was happening, but I don't think I let myself even begin to believe it.

I found out that my mom had seen a trail of huge black and blue bruises on my spine, lining up like jewels in a necklace. That day, we found out that I had relapsed. My leukemia had come back in an aggressive form. The process started over again, two and a half more years of crap. This time it was worse, and my parents constantly feared I wasn't going to make it. I was still a day patient, so I still went to school sometimes, but this time, if I did so much as cough once, it was straight to the hospital. My parents didn't cope with me having cancer too well this time. They divorced. They said it wasn't my fault, and that it had nothing to do with me, but I knew it did. The only thing that they ever fought about was cancer, and I had cancer.

After two and a half years, when I was thirteen, I was cured again. The doctor said that now there was only a two percent chance of relapse, and after 5 years of no relapse, there was a zero percent change of relapse, in the cancer world that's great, by the time I was eighteen, I'd have no worries in the world. I lived with my mom, as my dad moved to Forks, Washington. My hair grew back, and I started to have a few friends, but was still known as the girl who had cancer. Everyone felt bad for you, and nothing really changed in the way people treated you. That's when I decided to move to forks, right before my eighteenth birthday.

Thanks for reading! Please take the time to tell me how I'm doing in a review!

There will be a new chapter soon if you all like it!

-Maria Paige