Okay first and foremost. To all 13 people who read this, yes this is the same story by me, but I completely changed the first chapter after the pretty much the second page. So sorry for the change, but I came up with this idea this morning, and I liked it better, seemed more interesting. I don't know if it is, was half asleep when it popped in my head. So again so sorry for the change. Plot is still the same, and so is basically the first 2 pages, but after that it's different.

Summary: Rowan, comes to live with her cousin Emily, leaving her abusive life behind. When a certain wolf imprints on her, can she learn to trust again? What happens when her past comes back to haunt her in more ways than one?

Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns everything. Me=Nada, 'cept Rowan

Now I lay me down to sleep,

I pray the Lord my soul to keep.

If I should die before I wake,

I pray the Lord my soul to take.

This is really part of the story, at least not now it is, maybe I'll try to work it in some way, but I just thought it was cool. It's said in the trailer of the movie coming out soon My Soul to Take with Max Thieriot

Anyway on with the first chapter of Out of the Frying Pan and Into the Fire.

Slowly, I walk up the left-over stairs, totally numb, my face expressionless. The door hung crooked off a hinge, gently knocking the wall in the dead breeze. The floor's creaked under my weight-which was almost non-existent. The sound of an ancient TV straining to broadcast floated through the shambles of the house. Like a zombie, I moved towards the sound, my steps heavy and sluggish. I came to stand in the doorway of what used to be a living room. A ratty, beat up recliner, that once was a light tan, but was now red, rust, black and just worn out from age, sat with its back to me, facing the TV. An old, small table held together by superglue and duck tape was next to it, slightly tilted because of the Bud Light sitting on it. The thick scent of cologne hung in the air, making it hard to breath.

I stood there, staring at the floor, frozen, uncaring. I wanted to run, to get away, but I knew they'd catch up eventually. No matter where I hid, no matter how far I ran, no matter how hard I fought, they'd always win.

The broken chair protested as its occupant got up. I continued to look at he as heavy footsteps came towards me. A pair of beat-up old boots appeared in my vision and I shivered as I could feel their owner's eyes lock on me. My skin crawled as he stared at me; my eyes stayed glued to the floor, following the trial of ant's that scurried about. Their life seemed so simple: collect food, and don't get stepped on, and if they did there was always another one to instantly take their place.

The air seemed to grow still, the only noise being the static of the TV snow. The sound of my heartbeat flooded my ears, blocking out everything. It felt like one of those suspenseful movies where you can hear the characters heartbeat and that's it, and they're reaching for the doorknob of the door that leads to the creepy basement of the haunted house on the spooky block.

Time seemed to slow down, almost to the point of stopping.

"You can run as much as you want, but you'll always come back."

Something jerked me back by my hair and-

My eyes shot open, my heart racing. I glanced around, searching, but, thankfully not finding what I was looking for. I settled back into the uncomfortable chair, and glanced out the window. White was all I saw.

Must be in a cloud, I thought. The roar of the 747 made its way past the earphones that were practically shoved through my ears. I stiffened, when I felt someone's eyes on me. Slowly I turned, and did a double glance, searching every face I could see. Still nothing. Then I turned to look at the seat next to me and mentally sighed in relief.

The little kid sittin next to me had his eyes locked on me. His mom next to him, had her head leaned back, taking the quiet time to catch up on some sleep. The kid kept starin at me like I was the most interestin thing in the world. What rock has he been livin under?

Awkwardly I waved a little, and smile. Kid still kept starin. Settlin for turning my music on, I glanced out the window again. Seattle sat below, small as all get out; we'd be landin soon.

Can I really get away with this?

"Attention all passengers. Please return your trays to the upright position and make sure they are locked. Please fasten your seatbelts as the plane will be landing soon. We hope you enjoyed your flight today. Thank you and have a nice day."

After doing everything I watched as Seattle, and hopefully my new life, got closer. 20 minutes later I grabbed my old beat up bag from under the chair, shoved the IPod in it, and quietly followed everyone else. While the other passengers hurried off to collect their luggage, I, somehow, made it to the exit/entrance. I walked out and was immediately blasted by icy wind.

Dear Lord have mercy its cold.

I zipped my jacket up, and hurried to the long line of idling cabs. Numbly, I hopped in the nearest one that had a female driver. I'd seen way to many Criminal Minds were the lady gets in the taxi and the creepy driver is a serial killer, not that a lady can't be a crazy person too but…gah you get what I'm sayin. That and my past kinda prevented me from getting in the cabs.

"Where to?" she asked. I glanced at her to see a lady in her mid-forties with a mix of blond and brown medium length hair. She was pale, and her skin showed signs of living in the cold biting wind for a long time. She looked okay, no crazy gleam in her eye or anything like that. Looks can be deceiving though, as cliché as that sounds.

"Umm…" I pulled a scrap of paper out of my pocket. "Forks, Washington."

"What? That's two hours away," she exclaimed, then glanced in the rearview mirror. Her eyebrows went up and I shifted my head a little so that my limp dark brown hair fell in front of my face. I knew what I looked like: sick, haunted, dead. I wasn't your everyday cabi rider.

I dug around in my bag, and found the envelope that held all the money I'd managed to get. I pulled some bills out, careful not to let her see anything. "This worth it?" I held them up for her to see. With a sigh, she pulled out of her space, and slowly made her way through the maze of traffic. We jumped on the highway soon, and I settled in for the long ride. Drizzle ran down the window, as water bounced off the road. I could barely see the road in front of us, the only signal of cars ahead were their lights.

"So why you headin to Forks?"

"Takin pics for a collage thing. It's pretty up in the mountains, and I was hopin to get some good shots," I lied. I had no idea what he mountains looked like this time of year.

"You look a little you to be going to college. How old are you?"

"17, almost 18. Schools makin us get all the application crap sent off now." 'Nother lie. I'm 16.

"Oh. Well I would show you all the important stuff we're passin, but as you can see." She gestured at the rain.

"You can't," I mumbled.

She nodded, and we fell into a comfortable, yet slightly awkward silence. The meter racked up as she, Sherry she told, weaved through the traffic. I kept an eye on the meter, makin sure it didn't get to high; I only had so much money. I pulled out an old beat-up notebook that was easily missing half the pages, and a package of markers though only a few were in it. I shifted so I was sitting with my legs on the seat, pulled close.

Totally safe right?

I leaned the notebook against my thighs, and began to doodle some random design onto the graph paper. I glanced at Sherry every now and then, still cautious, you never know. She could be some crazed serial killer, hell bent on making me her next victim.

*sigh* Got to love the paranoia.

Two hours later she was pullin off the side of the road, right before Forks, careful not to run into the ditch.

"Here, thanks for the ride," I whispered, and gave Sherry the money before getting out of the car, throwing my bag over my shoulder. I pulled my hood up.

"You sure you want me to drop you off here?" she asked.

"Yeah, I don't have a long walk from here."

"Oh," she paused, "Are you in any trouble kid? I can take you to the police back in Port Angeles."

I shook my head, and put on a fake smile. "No I'm fine. Just tired, long flights. Been a long year too. Can't wait for school to get out. It was nice meetin you Sherry."

She stared back at me, unconvinced. I smiled even bigger and tried to make myself look…non-dead.

"Kay. Good luck with your pictures then." Yeah, point one for the paranoid, abused kid. Oh yeah did I forget to mention that?

I shut the door, and she drove off. As soon as she was out of sight, I pulled a hat out of my bag and put it on under my hood, pulling it low to hide my face.

In a few minutes I was walking through downtown Forks, which took about two minutes to walk through. Dang this town is small. I looked over my shoulder every now and then, scanning the buildings for anyone familiar. My stomach growled as I passed a small diner; I can't remember the last time I ate. I paused and glanced inside. My stomach growled again, as the smell of pancakes greeted me. My mouth literally watered; it was the best thing I'd smelled in a while. I was about to go in when I saw how many people there was, way too many for someone not to notice a stranger. With a regretful sigh, I moved on, with my stomach cussing me out with each step I took.

"Ohhh shut up," I mumbled to it.

The rain came down in, well, buckets as soon as I was out of Forks. I moved to the side of the road under the trees. I walked, and walked…and walked. There wasn't a lot to see, just mostly woods. It was very quiet despite the rain, almost peaceful.

Yeah right, peaceful my butt. My eyes darted around the woods, searching for any sign of movement. My heart was racing; it hadn't stopped since I'd left. I tossed my hood back, not liking my vision being blocked. I was wound tighter than a rubber band ball, ready to fight or run in the blink of an eye. Paranoia ran through me, as easily as blood, causing me to glance over my shoulder every couple seconds.

I followed the road until I came to a fork in the road. Hehe a fork in Forks that's sorta funny. No Rowan, bad Rowan focus. I dug around in my bag and pulled out a map, messing around with it until I found one of them boxes that shows the more intricate details of smaller cities. It might as well have been in freakin Japanese, I had no idea what road I was one to start. Somehow I managed to find out the name of the road I was on, then find the road I needed to head to where I was going. I took the left and did the same thing I had done for the past 'x' number of minutes.

It's a good thing I'm used to walking a lot, I thought humorlessly.

My hand clutched the piece of paper in my coat pocket, like my very life depended on it.

'Cause it does.

Eventually the paved road turned into a dirt one. I pulled the piece of paper that had literally become the only thing keeping me attached to this world, out and studied it. Though I already knew it by heart. My shoes dragged on the deserted street, mud soaking through. I walked passed a few houses that were set back in the woods that loomed nearby. I tried to stay out of sight, hidden in the shadows of the forest. After a bit, I found the right house, at least I hope I did. A grave driveway led up to a small cabin that had a good size porch on it.

My stomach was in knots, and my legs were solid lead. It felt like It felt like I couldn't get enough oxygen, and I was shaking like I'd flown to Antarctica instead of Washington. I stood hidden in the shadow at the end of the driveway, staring at the house.

Wow, I'm such a creeper.

Come one Rowan, just walk up there. It's nothing, it's simple. Just move your freakin feet!

Slowly, I took a few tentative steps, actually wondering if this was happening. With a deep breath I walked up the drive, clutching the paper. Before I knew it, I was standing in front of the door. I swore my heart was about to explode, I'm sure people on Mar's could hear it.

Should I even be here? Can I? It's not like I called or something? What if she doesn't want me? What if she hates me for-What if she's like him? What if she's even worse?

Hah! Like that's even possible, I thought humorlessly.

I was about to leave, though I had no idea where I was going to go, when my hand knocked quietly on the door.

I didn't tell you to do that you freakin idiot!

I stood there, completely frozen, when the door opened. I stared at the porch floor, shaking like a leaf in a hurricane. I heard someone clear their throat, it sounded like a guy.

Uh-oh.

Cautiously, I looked up, and took a couple steps back, tensed.

This guy was freakin ginmormous. He was probably at least 6'7, and even through his shirt, you could see he was very big in the muscle department. Oh man, as scrawny as I was he could easily squish me like a bug. He had close cropped black hair and dark brown eyes. He was really tan, obviously Native American, cause you don't get that kinda tan round here. There is no freakin sun, from what I've seen and heard. He looked cold, and I shivered under his gaze.

"Umm..yah?" He asked, confused.

My mouth opened and closed, searching for words. I managed to get out, "Ummm….doesn't… Emily Young…live here?"

His face softened a bit.

"Yah, and you are?"

"Ummm…uhh…" My heart picked up even more and my palms got really sweaty. I started shaking even worse. Awesome time for a panic attack. Way to go brain. "Never mind." I backed up until I fell off the deck. This guy was bigger than I thought. Everything I'd escaped from came flooding back. Usually I fought, I hated running, it felt like giving up, but with this guy, it'd be like trying to fight a train. Who do you think would win?

"Hey you okay?" He came towards me, and I noticed other guys heads in the doorway. They looked just like him, which probably meant they were all big like him.

Oh. Shit.

"Sam? Who was that? What are y'all starin at?" Somebody, a woman shoved past the guys, appearing on the porch.

I glanced at her, and then focused on the guy again. He'd stopped on the porch, staring at me.

Even though it's been almost eleven years since I've seen here, I still immediately recognized Emily. Her raven black hair was a little longer, a little past her shoulders. Her dark brown eyes matched her deep natural tan.

"Oh. Sam who's this?"

"I don't know." The guy, Sam, shrugged. "Hey kid, who are you?"

I shook my head, and backed up a little more. I noticed Emily staring at me, confusion written on her face.

She didn't recognize me.

I could feel myself shutting down. I'd let myself feel hope, let myself dream, so this is what I get. Slowly the numb feeling enveloped me, cutting off everything.

Why should she remember me? It's been ten years since we've last talked. It's obvious she's grown up and gotten married. She's got a life.

I heard her gasp. "Rowan?"

Good/Bad? Love or Hate? Tell me what y'all think, most what you think about her name. It took me a while to find one that fit, cause the first one I had was also the name of another story, and I wanted something different. So I found Rowan. I know it's not much, but still…please review and let me know what y'all think.