AN/ Jacob Black and Renesmee have four beautiful children. The only problem is, their first born daughter was taken by Aro, who wanted her for himself. What happens when her family's relentless search for her comes to an end? What happens when their missing daughter practically walks straight back into their lives?
Prologue.
I cough and splutter, gasping for air. I feel for this thing that's choking me, wrapping my fingers around what feels like a tube, and yank. The burning in my throat is impossible, almost too much to bear but my need for precious oxygen trumps.
I ignore the shouts that beg for me to stop, beg for a nurse and for help. I pull hard on the tube, retching as it slides up my throat, the feeling of being choked is so strong my body is rejecting this tube and I am more than willing to help rid myself of it.
With one last retch the tube is out, my eyes are foggy with tears my throat feels like it's on fire but at last I can breathe again.
Throwing the tube on the floor, I fall back on the bed, exhaustion consumes me and I let the blackness take me.
The next time I wake, it's less traumatic, physically at least. Three people are sat around my bed watching me intently.
Two of them I wish I never laid eyes on.
"How are you feeling?" Paul asks, squeezing my hand.
"Fucking amazing" I growl.
"Sarah" Jacob Black, or daddy squeezes my other hand, drawing my attention away from Paul.
"No!" I rasp "No, don't even speak to me, I don't want to see you!" my eyes snap to the woman standing behind me, who claims to be my mother. Ripping my hand from his I add with finality "Get out."
Two months earlier.
"I want to break free from your lies, you're so self-satisfied I don't need you, I've got to break freeeeeeeee!" I sing loudly over the buzzing of the tattoo gun, I love tattooing this client he's my regular. Together we've been working on his sleeve for the past couple of months, designing it so it's just as he imagined.
Multiple sessions of serious inking have gotten us to this final stage, the finishing colouring and shading is being added today.
"How you doing?" I ask, wiping away the excess ink.
Although he grits his teeth as I swipe at the freshly scratched skin for the millionth time he admits "All good, I can't wait for this to be finished man! Its gonna be shit hot!"
Scratching away with the needle, adding the final shading to the pocket watch I add "Well obviously, it's my work"
Hours pass by without me noticing, I love getting lost in my work always have and always will. I take pride in any piece of work, and make sure every things perfect. But this piece is more precious than most. I first tattooed Chris when I was just an apprentice, he was a brave man letting a rooky loose on him! And now, four years later he came to me to get his first ever sleeve done. I know that to Chris this isn't just any old tattoo, it means a lot to him.
Spraying the disinfectant Dettol over his arm, wiping away the ink and the blood I can't help but smile at my finished work.
"Go ahead, take a look" i nod in the direction of the mirror as I start to tidy up my work station.
I watch as Chris admires his sleeve in the mirror, grinning from ear to ear.
"Oh man, I can't thank you enough. He would have loved this!"
This is the reason why I love my job. Being a tattoo artist is much more than just inking pretty pictures onto people. Watching Chris smile at the Time themed sleeve for his grandfather in the mirror is priceless.
"Check it out!" Chris shouts to his friends as we walk back into the shop area of the studio "it's fucking amazing!"
"Thanks Chris" I smile leaning against the counter, trying to play down his compliments. All bullshit aside it's seriously the best feeling in the world when people love your work. "Hey Chris, you did really well! I thought you were gonna pass out at one point" I jibe, jokingly
"Nah, tough as old boots me!" he throws a wink in my direction.
Leaving him and his friends to admire his new ink, I go behind the desk to check my appointment book when a flyer is held under my nose.
"Tattoo convention Of. The. Fucking. Century, do not tell me you're not entering" Jessie waves the flyer in front of me, in obvious annoyance.
I push his hand away, rolling my eyes "You know I can't afford to go Jess. Don't fucking keep on" I huff
"Bullshit" he snaps "You are going, we all are. Next month. End of."
"Don't tell me you're not entering?" Chris joins in "Everyone went mental for your work in London, you'd be mad not to go!"
I look between them both in disbelief "Um hello, how am I supposed to afford it? It would be different if this was London"
"Sar, seriously. If you went, you could make double any money you'd make if stayed here. Once they see your work people will pay anything for you to tattoo them there and then. And the prize money is twenty grand, you could finally open your own studio!"
Before I could protest he thrusts another piece of paper at me "Pay me later, I've already booked our tickets bitch" turning and strutting back into his work room, he holler's
"Seattle tattoo convention here we fucking come!"