New Perspective

"It's not fair, just let me perfect it/ Don't wanna live a life that was comprehensive/'Cause seeing clear would be the bad idea/Now catch me up I'm getting out of here."

—New Perspective, Panic! At the Disco

Chapter 1

Why Don't You Just Take My Soul, Too?

Giana's POV

3, 013 miles. Fifty-two hours. That is how far and how long it takes to drive from New York to Washington State, more specifically, from Manhattan, NY, to La Push, WA. La Push? Well, it's a tiny Native American reservation in Washington. Don't worry, I never would've heard of it either, had I not been born there.

Many of you are probably wondering why I moved across the country to a little reservation from the glamorous streets of New York. The answer is simple: my mother was finally taking an interest in me twenty years after I was born, and she decided to give me her old home there. Meaning she'd lived there once, couldn't sell it, and was currently living in Hawaii. There were two reasons why I'd agreed to moving. Reason Number One—I couldn't afford to rent my apartment anymore, and this new place was completely paid off. Reason Number Two—I had been born in La Push, the house had been built by my father and was my birthright, and I missed my Native American culture.

Alright, maybe Reason Number Two was really three reasons, but they were true. I had been born in La Push, but we only lived there until I was nine. My father died not long after my ninth birthday, and everything went downhill from there. I know everything that happened, too. My mother became a drunk, moved us out of rainy, little La Push to bright and sunny New Mexico, and left my father's house to rot away in the woods so many miles away. As soon as I turned eighteen, I moved to New York, got a job at an art studio, and started my life over again. My mother moved back to La Push and completely redesigned my father's house, thus pissing me off in the process. That woman had no right to change what my father had built, but she didn't agree with me.

Oh, and did I mention that my left leg was in locked brace because I fractured my tibia and that I couldn't bend it? That made it pretty damn hard to drive across the country. Not to mention that I had to take my brace off to drive, causing my leg to hurt even more. And my pain killers were in a bag in the back of my truck.

When I finally pulled in front of my house, I was exhausted and in excruciating pain. I grabbed my brace from the passenger's seat and strapped it on before hobbling out of the truck. I had a '06 black Chevy pickup, and the drop from that is pretty far. I cursed as pain pulsed through my injured leg.

I looked up at the house. It looked so different than it had twelve years before. It used to be a one story, dark brown cottage type of house, with a tin roof and a large porch that used to bear my father's drums and parts to the one he was currently building. Now, it was still a one story, but it was painted white, the roof was no longer tin but shingled instead. The porch was gone, and in its place were flowerbeds. I couldn't look at it any longer.

It took me over an hour to get all my things into the house. That was due to the fact that it took me a while to walk with my gimp leg and because when I first stepped into the house, it took me fifteen minutes to compose myself. Once everything was inside, I began unpacking. My mother left the furnishings in the house, so all I had were suitcases and boxes. I unpacked half of my things before I literally could not stand or walk anymore. I found my hydrocodone in my bag and took one.

I was sitting at the kitchen table when I spotted a note sitting on it. It read:

Giana—

Welcome back. I know you love the new decorations. Your Uncle Charlie lives 45 minutes away in Forks. Bella lives with him now. Remember Bella? Well, you're going to hang out with her tomorrow night. She's going to First Beach with some friends from school. You'll pick her up at 7. Charlie's number is 783-9284. Call him.

—Lydia

I sighed. Of course my mother was already making plans for me. I was twenty years old; I didn't want to "hang out" with my seventeen year old cousin who I hadn't seen in six years. Bella was probably already expecting me to pick her up, and Charlie probably thought my mother cleared it with me already.

I limped over to the phone that was sitting on the counter and dialed Charlie's number.

"Hello?" he asked.

"Hey, Charlie. It's Giana."

"Giana! I haven't heard from you in years. Welcome back."

"Thanks. So, I'm picking Bella up tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah. You're fine with that, right?"

"Oh, yeah, totally. Well, I just wanted to check. I've got some phone calls to make, so I'll see you tomorrow."

"Of course."

We hung up, and I dug around the kitchen to find a phonebook. When I finally found it, I searched for the best construction agency in the area. I found a number for a place with an office in Port Angeles.

"I need someone who can put my house back like it was," I said before the person on the phone could say anything.

"How so?" the male voice on the other end of the phone said.

"Someone redid my house, and I want to do it back. It needs a porch, tin roof, and it has to be painted brown. Oh, and I need to refurnish and repaint the inside."

"Alright, I can have a few men out tomorrow if you like."

"I'm busy tomorrow. Come on Sunday?"

"Of course."

I continued to give him my name and address, along with the rest of my information. I fell asleep that night knowing that my father's house would soon be back to the way it used to be, the way it should be.

A/N- Look you guys, it's a new story! I plan on updating this one regularly, too. So give a girl some R&R please? Oh, by the way, the story starts to make more sense pretty soon. _Jess

DISCLAIMER: Sadly, I do not own the pack or any Twilight characters, Steph Meyer does. I would like to own Jacob, though, but that's beside the point(;