Prologue

Sometimes life can feel like it's too short to live. Well I think life can feel like it's really taking its toll. Oh, I'm sorry we haven't met. My name is Isabella Marie Swan. I rather Bella, everybody does. I guess I should tell you about my life and why it should end. I am 17, my parents have been dead for about five years now. My dad was Charlie Swan he was the chief of police in my little home town of Forks, Washington. It's a sad little town on the north end of the country with non-stop rain and barely any sun.

My mom was Rene, my mom never discussed her side of the family nor have I met my grandparents, they supposedly died before I was born. My mom had come to stay in Forks with some relatives and that is where she met my dad. They fell in love and got married right out of high school, soon I came along. And then they just died. I'm lucky I even survived that fire. Sometimes in my dreams I still can feel myself choking from lack of oxygen and can see my parents' bodies burning.

I didn't really take it that well after the fire. I was a wreck, of course. I wouldn't eat or sleep, and it took so many therapists and psychiatrists to help with my trauma I can't even count them all. For now all my psychological problems have ceased to a point where I can handle them and still survive. So yay! Right? Nope. Parents are dead, no relatives of any knowledge, the only place for me was in foster care system. Not many people are willing to take in a girl with so many psychological problems that only medication can keep under control.

For my current foster home I am living in Los Anglos, California. It's not as wild and crazy living as some think California is. The only thing crazy I've seen is how my foster brothers fight over the toy in the cereal box. Right now though, I am sitting in one of those waiting rooms in the hospital waiting to be picked up by the service worker that will most likely bring me to another foster home. Though after another break down like this I don't know how there can be anymore. I have gone through seven homes and have had no success in really feeling like a part of the family in anyone of them. That's the reason why I'm back in another hospital, I had another breakdown.

I'm sitting in one of those hospital chairs that look like leather, feels like plastic, and are so smooth I can fall right off. The bright fluorescent lights aren't helping with my eyes and those new antibiotics the nurses put me are really starting to drowse me. I hear footsteps and look up to see Karen. She has been putting me in foster homes since the beginning and we barely talked about anything in those five years. The only times we've ever talked is when I was having trouble and needed to be moved to a new 'home'.

"Hello Isabella," she greeted me in her usual, bored tone. She is the only one that will call me by my full name.

"I guess it's the same as usual Karen," I sighed. I knew what this was leading up to, another home, and a new family.

"Well, not this time. Not exactly," she stated it an unusual tone. I looked up at her in confusion; she had never said any of those words to me before. And what did she mean 'not exactly'? How can this time be any different than those other times I've had a breakdown?

"Would do you mean 'not exactly'?"

"I mean you are going to be going to a family a bit different from the others."

"Exactly what do you mean by 'different'?"

"You remember when you lived in the town of Forks?"

I nodded. Of course I remembered Forks. When I was little I thought it was the best place on earth.

"Well," Karen said excitedly, as if this was something to get excited about. "I have found you a family that lives in Forks that has fostered kids and has adopted a couple of their own. They seem to be very good at handling troublesome kids with complicated backgrounds. The husband is a doctor for the local hospital, and the wife works from home in interior designing. I think this family will really help you."

"How many kids do they have?"

"About five, but from what I hear they are very good academically speaking."

Okay, that's not a very bad number of kids I've had worse.

"So when am I leaving?"

"You will be leaving tomorrow at two o'clock on a train, and will meet the husband and wife at the station."

Wow, that was much sooner than I expected. If I'm leaving so soon then maybe this foster home might be a good thing for me after all. I can only pray that this new adventure won't be another tragedy.