Summary:

"Run Bella. Run and don't stop until you're safe." All Bella Dwyer had ever known was running. It was easy, natural. Breath, don't look up, just keep running… But how can she keep from running from the people she loves the most?

Disclaimer: These characters belong to Stephenie Meyer.

Prolouge:

I started running at a very early age. My mom used to tell me she needed to keep running shoes on at all times just to keep up with me as a toddler. She was my family. It had been the Mom and Bella show as long as I could remember. My dad died when I was and infant. He was a firefighter. Mom loved to tell me stories about him when I would find my way to her bed during a thunderstorm or after a nightmare had disrupted my sleep.

"He was one of those special kind of crazies," she'd say sadly, "The kind that would run towards the danger instead of away from it."

It had been that heroism that took him away from us. A fire had started in a home not far from ours. They had successfully removed everyone from the building, but the foundation had crumbled under three firefighters as they tried to make their way to safety. My dad had been one of them.

My mom tried to stay strong for me, but she had never been one to suffer on her own. She needed someone in her life to support her as only a husband could. So when I was six, James came into our lives. By the time I was six and a half, they were married. By the time I was seven, things had gone bad, fast.

James was a drunk, prone to violence in his drunken rage. My mom would hide with me upstairs until he finished or passed out, telling me stories of princesses who rescued themselves and damsels who escaped evil's cold clutches using their own wits.

Sometimes, though, we were taken by surprise and caught in the crossfire. That's how that night started. The night I first ran for my life.

James had crashed through the front door, startling my mom and me. We had been making dinner and hadn't expected him back for hours. He began ranting and raving, as my mom tried to discreetly guide me up the stairs. His blood shot eyes landed on us, and I shivered at the cold hardness I saw there.

"And where do you think you're going?!" he raged, grabbing my mom by the hair and dragging her back to him. She fought back, which only served to anger him and he threw her to the ground as I looked on in horror. She crawled to me, got to her feet, and ran with me to the kitchen. She shoved me to the back door and whispered urgently, "Run Bella. Run and don't stop until you're safe." I shook my head, my seven year old eyes wide with fear and confusion.

"Go Bella! Don't look back, just run!" And with that she shoved me out the door and turned to face our nightmare. I didn't listen. I looked back. Just in time to see my mom stand between James and the door, the night, me. And then I turned, and ran.

Keep moving. Just breathe. Don't look up. Just run. My legs pumped faster as my second hand sneakers slapped against the dark, slick pavement. I kept running. Just kept running.

Suddenly arms wrapped around me and pulled me back into a large warm body. Instinct kicked in as I fought against the restraining force. I kicked and punched and lashed out until I heard a gruff voice say, "Hey! Hey now! Calm down! I won't hurt you! You're safe!"

You're safe. At those words my body went limp and I stopped resisting as I looked up towards the voice. A man in a uniform with a shiny badge, dark brown eyes, and a small mustache on his upper lip stared down at me.

"Ok sweetheart, you're alright. Can you tell me your name?" I liked his voice. It was low, and comforting.

"Bella. I'm seven," I whispered. The man smiled kindly at me.

"I'm Officer Swan. And may I say, Bella, you pack one heck of punch for a seven year old."

"Seven and a half," I told him. He smiled.

"Can you tell me what happened? Why were you running?"

"Mommy told me to."

"Where is your mom?" I began to cry.

"She's at home. With James. James is going to hurt Mommy. Mommy told me to run. I kept running. Run til I'm safe," I sobbed. Officer Swan looked very serious. He took me back to his car and spoke into his radio.

"Bella you have to show me where you live ok?" I nodded and recited my address just like my mom had practiced with me and got into Officer Swan's car as more cars arrived with their lights flashing.

Officer Swan was speaking to another man, "Chief, the girl's mother is still at the house with the man she spoke of. I suspect violence, perhaps continuous abuse…" After a few minutes the cars were all rushing back to my house.

The lights were off, the front door wide open. I had to stay in the car while Officer Swan and the other men went inside. A few minutes later they supported my mom as she limped out of the house. James was nowhere in sight.

Later, at the hospital, my mom held me close and wouldn't let anyone pry us apart.

"I'm sorry baby. So sorry. I'm going to keep you safe from now on. No one is going to hurt us again," she whispered fiercely as she rocked us back and forth.

Less than three days later, our bags were packed, the house was put up for sale, and we both clutched plane tickets for Phoenix, Arizona. The police chief assured my mom he would keep her updated on any developments on the search for James. After they had left, she held me close again and whispered "We're leaving this all behind us baby. He can't hurt us. I promise."

And just like that I turned my seven year old back on Forks, Washington. And we ran. Ran from James, ran from the haunting memories of my father, ran from the town my mother had grown up in, and kept running until we reached our new lives.