A/N: Lynnlin and LittlePixieStick are pretty much fan fiction virgins. We've both spent a lot of time reading and reviewing the work of others, silently wondering if we'd ever have the gumption to post anything ourselves. Through a wonderful twist of fate, we met and shared our mutual Twilight addiction, and decided it was time to stop sticking a toe in the pool. So here we are, diving in head first. Please keep that in mind.

Lynnlin: I want everyone to know I am the proud owner of a dictionary and thesaurus, both of which I use frequently...

LittlePixieStick: I just bought a brand spankin' new LG enV Touch and a little black dress...

Sadly, neither of us own Twilight, Lady Gaga, or 3Oh!3, but we do like to read and rock out to them!

Let the fun begin!

Chapter One – Cerebral Heartbreak

"Bella, there's a party tonight at Mitchell's, you're coming, right?" Glancing over my shoulder, I saw my best friend Bethany unlocking her car door as she waited for my reply.

"Of course, what else would I do on a Friday night?"

"Great" Bethany smiled her plump, bee-stung lips stretching wide across perfectly straight teeth, "I'm telling my mom that we're going to the movies and spending the night at your house."

"Awesome, same here, see ya tonight!"

Jumping into my Jeep, I cranked up my music and screeched out of the student parking lot.

***

Taking about my tenth shot in under two minutes I couldn't imagine a better life; everybody at the party chanting my name and cheering me on. My opponent, Derek, was doing his best to keep up, but that just wasn't happening. On a whim we had decided to start playing Thunderdrunk, the flip cup table was getting a little crowded anyway. Besides, Mitchell's parties were always about being spontaneous, and the urge hit when AC/DC started blaring over the speakers. Each time the word 'thunder' was sung we both had to do a shot; my drink of choice for the night, Jose, straight from the bottle. Knowing how many times Brian Johnson sang that word during "Thunderstruck," it was no wonder we had drawn a crowd. Everyone likes to watch others make fools of themselves. Half way through the song Derek couldn't hold any more liquor and started vomiting all over the foe-fur rug Mitchell's parents bought inRome.

"Dude, go outside," Mitchell yelled pushing Derek out the door.

That's all I heard before I was thrown onto somebody's shoulders, hooting and hollering over winning the drinking game. The unmistakable sounds of 3OH!3's "Don't Trust Me" pulsed through the speakers and I was tapped on the lower back from below. The guy holding me deposited me to the ground and I swayed unsteadily as I looked into Mitchell's eyes. Was it just an effect of the alcohol I consumed, or the smoldering look in his eyes? Before my sluggish mind had time to process the question, his fingers brushed up my arm as he leaned in and whispered into my ear.

"Care to dance?"

His voice tickled my ear. I was thankful I had dressed to impress this evening, as Mitchell's eyes raked hungrily from my black, patent leather kitten heels and tight, skinny jeans to my flowing indigo halter top with the chain-mail accent. I took his waiting hand and followed him through the house, passing couples locked in drunken embraces, very close to reaching indecent exposure, but too uninhibited because of their drinks and caught up in the moment to care. We made our way past the actual party to an empty corner on the other side of the house. The music was still loud in the roomas he pressed his body up against mine and started grinding.

I was unaware of the passage of time as we rubbed our bodies against one another. The combination of alcohol, sweat, and the pulse of the music excited me. My libido was frantically reaching combustion, causing me to lose myself in his touch, grinding more intimately into him. It was evident that Mitchell was feeling the same, as he explored more with his hands and searched out the tender spot behind my ear with his amazing lips.

"Bella, there you are!" my head jerked from its welcoming location against Mitchell's lips at the sound of Bethany's voice. She came into the room with a few other guys, laughter erupting from deep within as she noticed what she interrupted, instantly taking my hand dragging me out of Mitchell's arms. "Come on, Bella, I'm starving, and one of the guys already offered to give us a ride to McDonald's, and your car is the only one not blocked."

As I was pulled along, I focused on Bethany's long, strawberry blonde locks swaying as she made her way through the crowd. We were both feeling the effects of the night, and kept laughing as we stumbled down the hallway towards the back door. The lights of the party faded away as we stepped outside, Bethany's light orange tunic dress fluttering in the warm Phoenix breeze. We made our way to the street and climbed haphazardly into my waiting Jeep Wrangler, John in the driver's seat, Bethany and I in the back. She promptly put her seatbelt on, but I felt like being a bit dangerous and left mine off, holding onto the roll bar of the topless vehicle.

The wind in my hair felt freeing as we started down the street and, in my present state, having no seatbelt on in a moving vehicle was exhilarating. Because Mitchell's house was in the middle of nowhere, I assumed no one would have a problem with me being silly and having a good time while we were on the road. After all, we were coming from a party, wasn't that the idea? Bethany caught my arm before I could move fully from my seat, her voice raised as she leaned toward my face making herself heard over the wind.

"Bella, what are you doing?"

Rolling my eyes, I shrugged her hand off my forearm, gripped the side of the roll bar, and hoisted myself to a standing position within the Jeep.

"Come on Bethany, get a life and have some fun!" My long, chestnut hair streamed behind me as John pressed his foot further into the gas pedal causing the Jeep to accelerate. Lady GaGa's "Love Game" was blaring through the speakers, the deep beat from the base resonating through my body, shaking me to my core. I couldn't remember ever feeling this free. Looking down at Bethany, I noticed she gazed at me with intense longing, and a little fear, in her eyes. "Join me! You know you want to...and you've never felt anything like this. It's incredible!"

With that, she was convinced. Bethany grinned her brightest smile as she undid her seatbelt and joined me in standing. Her laughter whipped through the air as she looked around, wind stinging her face, causing her eyes to tear slightly. She was still not relaxed enough to match my mood, her fingers gripping the roll bar so tightly the knuckles were white. She needed to release her fear and embrace the power of the moment. Gently, I took hold of her hand, encouraging her to release the death grip and just feel. Of course, she did as I silently asked; we were best friends after all. Taking a deep breath, we threw our joined arms into the air as I screamed out into the pitch black night, only the headlights of the Jeep lighting our way. After a few moments, Bethany's voice joined mine creating a discordant melody to echo across the road, mixing with the roar of the vehicle's engine.

"Holy shit! What's wrong?" John finally turned his focus from the road, noticing his passengers were now standing, arms above their heads. "Bella, Bethany, you're going to get us arrested, or killed, if you keep that up." His deep brown eyes crinkled in laughter, negating the stern tone of his voice. We all erupted in laughter.

The song switched, Bethany and I squealing in excitement as we began to sing along. "Blame it on the Goose, gotcha feeling loose. Blame it on the 'Tron, catch me in a zone. Blame it on the a-a-a-alcohol. Blame it on the a-a-alcohol." Bethany swayed to the beat with her eyes closed, hands still held high above her head. As I wiped tears of laughter from my eyes, the road before us once again came into focus.

"John, John, Oh my god, watch out!"I could barely make out the gleaming eyes of a large, White-Tailed Deer frozen in the middle of the road.

"Bella, what the hell? Shit! John, look out, don't hit it!"

I reached for the roll bar as John spun the wheel of the Jeep in a panic, his reaction time slow and movements exaggerated from the still present alcohol in his system, sending us careening towards the gravel on the side of the country road. Not used to driving my vehicle, John didn't realize Jeeps were unable to turn on a dime; their wheelbase was too small. Tires screeched as his foot slammed on the break, the smell of burning rubber permeating the air. The Jeep began to tilt, fear and adrenaline coursing through my body as I held my breath, my brain comprehending the tragedy enfolding before my eyes but unable to force my body to react. As we rushed to meet the pavement, a loud, piercing scream reverberated in the dark.

***

Red...everything was red...and fuzzy. I seemed to be lying on my back on something hard and unmoving, however; whatever the hard object had been placed on was anything but stationary. Each bump and jostle caused shooting pain to travel throughout my body. A loud buzzing sounded in my ears, and I twitched in panic as I uselessly tried moving my head. There was an abnormal amount of pressure on my forehead, and there was a blinding headache building behind my eyes. I feared opening them, knowing the light would cause the pain to worsen. Beneath the loud wail that would not stop, I could hear soft voices murmuring to one another. Perhaps, if I could focus on that the pain now coursing through my entire body would become less severe.

"She's lucky to be alive. The impact of the throw alone should have killed her."

My brain rushed into overdrive, tossing about questions before I had a moment to even think about the possible answers. What was going on? Who was that person talking about? Where were my friends? Why couldn't I move my arms? Why did my head hurt so badly? Where the hell was I? I struggled to hold on to my thoughts as my body was jolted, pain coursing from my toes to my head. It was too much. An agonizing scream reached my ears, as the light dancing in front of my closed eyelids again faded to black, I realized the scream was mine.

***

"Bella, Bella. Sweetheart, you've got to wake up. Please, you've just got to wake up." Desperation laced the voice in my dreams; I knew I had heard it before, but I struggled to connect the voice to a face or name. "Isabella Marie Swan, I know you're in there. I know it's hard, baby, but you're needed here." The voice became more insistent, shaper and more determined. I followed the sound through the haze of memories, finally connecting it to my mother.

I fought desperately to reach my mother, the fog gradually lessening as I regained full consciousness but still struggled to lift the weight from my lids so I could open my eyes. Along with the gentle hum my mother's voice had acquired, I recognized multiple sets of footsteps and the beeping and whirring of various pieces of equipment. Where was I?

The light touch of my mother's hand was encouraging as I attempted, with renewed determination, to open my eyes.

"What am I going to do if you don't come back to me, Bella? You just can't die on me. I won't be able to live without my little girl."

Die? I was dying?

"Mom," my throat felt like cotton and my voice sounded scratchy, but the hand holding mine increased its pressure, a sure sign that I wasn't dreaming.

"Oh my god, Bella, you're awake. I was so afraid!"

Slowly, with great care, I forced my eyelids to cooperate. I needed to see her face, to know this was real.

"Mom," still quite, but getting a little stronger. "What were you talking about, dying? I'm not dying." It was as though the thought had set off an explosion within my body. A deep, pounding bass rhythm picked up tempo in my skull, and my entire body began to throb. Finally, I was able to force my eyelids open enough to squint through my lashes, but even that was painful.

"What are you talking about Bella? I said nothing about death." As my eyes began to focus, I could read the confusion etched in her features. "You must have heard me incorrectly. The doctor did say you would be confused for a while when you woke up."

"Doctor, what doctor?" My eyes were fully open now, taking in my surroundings. The room definitely resembled something found in a hospital. Drab, tope colored walls surrounded me, an ancient television set attached haphazardly to the wall directly across from where I lay. Gingerly, I moved my head towards the beeping sound still keeping a steady rhythm to my left, a heart rate monitor. My stunned gaze snapped back to my mother.

"What happened?" It came out in a fearful whisper.

"Oh, Bella, baby, you really don't want to know. Please don't make me tell you this right now. I don't think I can bear to see your face when you find out Bethany didn't make it. You just woke up, please don't make me hurt you yet; you're in enough pain."

"Wait, what about Bethany?" My heart thundered in my chest. Nothing could happen to her. She was my best friend.

"Bella, I didn't say anything about Bethany. What are you talking about?" Confusion showed through her hazel eyes as she squeezed my hand tightly, her own trembling a little.

I sighed. "Mom, I know you're just trying to protect me, but I heard what you said about Bethany. Please, stop. I'm tired, I hurt everywhere; I just want to know what happened. You aren't going to be able to shield me from this forever. I'd rather hear it from you."

"I didn't say anything about Bethany sweetheart. You must be hearing things. Like you said, you're tired, and you're on many pain medications right now. Let's just continue this conversation later. You need to rest and concentrate on getting better. That's really all that matters right now."

Taking a deep breath, and wincing in pain at the effort, I prepared to continue arguing, however, I was stopped by the entrance of a stately older gentleman with salt and pepper hair and a distinguished looking air; his white coat quickly indicating him as a doctor.

"Hello, Bella, I'm Dr. Whitby. Glad to see you're awake. How's the pain?" Dr. Whitby rushed through his statements without pausing for my answers. As he rushed about the bed checking my pulse, shining a penlight in my eyes and scrutinizing my fluid bag, it became apparent he was not terribly concerned with my answers.

"I'm feeling..."

"I know, like you've been hit by a truck." There was a slight chuckle, accompanied by an audible gasp from Renee. "It's to be expected. You will feel quite awful for at least a week, and it's going to take at least six weeks before you're on that leg again. It was a compound fracture. It will probably always be weaker than the other."

What a prick. First, he doesn't even let me explain how I'm feeling, instead jumping to conclusions. He didn't even really explain about my leg, or anything. What's worse, he goes off and makes a sick joke about being hit by a truck? The good doctor needed to work on his bedside manner.

"Well, Bella, it looks as though you're doing as well as can be expected right now. I'm going to send the nurse in to administer some more pain medication." With that, he rushed from the room, white coat flapping behind.

"He's certainly pleasant." Renee's voice broke me from my musing, her hand wrapped tightly around my own.

"I know, right."

"What do you know, sweetheart?" The confusion was back in Renee's voice.

"About Dr. Whitby, he was so rude."

"He certainly was."

Renee's comforting hand moved up to smooth the wrinkles of pain etching deeper into my forehead. The medicine was quickly dissipating, and intense pricks were coursing through my body.

"Try to relax, Bella; the nurse will be here shortly. I know it hurts, but if you sleep it will help." A hand moved to stifle to yawn escaping her lips. "I'm going to stop down at the cafeteria and nab a cup of coffee if that's okay?"

I hated that she was too worried about me to sleep. I could only imagine the stress and fear I had caused. The call from the hospital had clearly woke my mother. She was still dressed in her pajamas, hair mussed from sleep, mismatched flip flops on her feet. She had never looked dearer.

"Mom, I'll be fine. You go take care of yourself for a little while." I squeezed her hand quickly as she slowly moved away.

The nurse arrived moments later, and I was sleeping fitfully before my mother's return.

***

Filtered sunlight tickled my eyelids as I slowly woke from an unsettled sleep. Terrible dreams assaulted my unconscious, causing me to thrash about. Nurses woke me twice throughout the night, hearing my screams, but in the light of day, I was able to recall nothing that had haunted my night.

To my left Renee's body was curled into what could only be described as an uncomfortably tight ball, covered by a thin blue blanket. Sometime in the night, the small pillow she had been using had fallen to the floor; her head now resting on the crook of her arm. She was going to be almost as sore as myself when she woke; her face however, looked at peace. I only hoped she would sleep for a while longer, I new she had been extremely worried about me, unable to rest comfortably until she new for certain I would be all right. Having to explain the details of the accident, and Bethany's resulting death, had been terribly hard on her. She held me as I cried uncontrollably, fighting with the nurses who kept insisting I needed a sedative, instead, telling them I needed to grieve. She sat with me for hours as I lay their, silently contemplating her revelation, hot, painful tears coursing down my cheeks. Never asking questions, never pushing, just being the strong, motherly figure I craved. I had never been more thankful for Renee than I was at that instant.

I was glad when a nurse entered the room moments later, administering another dose of pain medication. While the sharp, stabbing pain had dissipated somewhat, it still lurked just under the surface. I knew if I allowed the medication to wear off completely I would be in utter agony. Quite frankly, I was enjoying my medicated state. I wasn't quite ready to face complete reality just yet. I knew it would be months before I could function properly, and I would never overcome the pain of losing my best friend, and knowing I was partially responsible. It was too soon to think about it. It hurt too much.

Staring at the ceiling, I was counting tiles trying to stay as silent as possible so as not to wake Renee when I heard a slight rustle from the doorway. Carefully moving my head the short brown hair and light brown eyes of my stepfather came into view. Phil was scanning the room, looking intently at everything but the bed, and myself in it. Finally, his gaze rested on me, and he shuffled slowly towards my side.

"Bella."

"Hi Phil, thanks for coming." I whispered. I was a little uncomfortable; Phil was a congenial enough guy, sure, but we were by no means the best of friends. He genuinely loved my mother, and in turn tolerated myself, however; he was less than thrilled to have inherited a stepdaughter through his marriage to my mother. Though he never said as much to me, I was certain he would have been much happier had I chosen to live with my father after their marriage. Still, that he was here was a nice touch. Perhaps we were turning a corner?

With calculated movements, he inched closer, finally sliding next to the bed, gently taking my hand in his.

"My god, Bella, you look horrible. You must really be hurting."

"Gee, Phil, you really know how to compliment a girl." From the pain I felt throughout my body, I knew I was bruised from head to foot, but had yet to see myself in a mirror. I could only imagine closely resembling Frankenstein's monster with the web of stitches across my eyebrowand the thick cast covering my left leg from knee to foot. No use lettingit stress me out though, there wasn't anything I could do about it at the moment. "I'm in a little pain, but the medicine is helping."

Confusion marred Phil's face as the noise of the various machines throughout the room again became the only sound. Had I said something wrong? I was only responding to his comments after all. Wasn't that the point of conversation?

"While I'm glad you're feeling okay, I don't know what you're talking about...Holy shit, how did she know what I was thinking?"

"You said it out loud Phil, and I have no idea what you're thinking." My hand was starting to hurt from the increased pressure Phil was exerting.

"Bella, I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

"Ouch, Phil, you're hurting me!"

"Stupid girl, always been a pain in my ass..." The words died away as Phil removed his hand from my own. His eyes held increased confusion and a smattering of fear in their depths. What on Earth was going on?

***

It wasn't until months later that I fully understood how much the car accident had changed me.

Sure, there were the stares and whispers at school. The comments about how Bethany and I had been stupid and reckless, and that John and I should be thankful we were alive; the harsher whispers that we too should have died. Coupled with the pain of my broken leg and the months of rehabilitation, it was no wonder I had become a recluse in recent months. However, that was not the source of my ongoing misery.

When speaking to Phil in the hospital that fateful day, I had come to the understanding that I would never be the same again. Unfortunately, it would take months to truly comprehend just how radical my transformation had been.

After I began answering Phil's thoughts, without even realizing what I was doing, he began shouting in fear and confusion, quickly waking my mother and bringing a crush of doctors and nurses to my room almost instantly. At first, everyone thought Phil was crazy; that perhaps his actions were a desperate plea for a stepdaughter for whom his concern was so great he was unable to think clearly, or that he simply wanted me out of his life and would try any means possible to ensure that happened. Renee, of course, rushed to both of our defenses. She insisted Phil meant no harm, that his only concern was my well being, and that nothing out of the ordinary could possibly be wrong with me, after all, she hadn't noticed anything different. Perhaps it was all the medication the hospital had been pumping into my system without thought. It was making me hallucinate.

Throughout the exchange I remained quiet, trying to piece together the events as they had unfolded, adding them up in my mind hoping they would somehow make sense. I could have sworn I was answering Phil as he spoke, but I couldn't be certain. I hadn't been paying attention to whether his mouth was moving. I couldn't be hearing people's thoughts, Phil had to be crazy. There were about ten people in the room right now, and the only voice I could hear was Dr. Whitby, who was clearly speaking to the rest of the room, asking those who were not immediate family to leave the cramped space, giving him more adequate area within which to make his examination. Personally, I was just thankful there were less people around to stare at me.

Dr. Whitby came closer, placing his bare hand softly against the exposed skin of my arm. I'm sure it was meant as a comforting gesture, however; it filled me with trepidation. When his skin came into contact with my own, his voice became clear to me, however; his lips were not moving.

"What a bunch of crap, I can't believe I'm in here for this. The man is clearly off his rocker. Well, we'll just give this little thing a quick once over and I can get back to my real cases."

I panicked! Heart rate accelerating, breath shallowing, body instantly enveloped in a cold sweat. With panic shining through my eyes I turned to face my mother as the world went black.

It was still difficult to relive that memory, almost as difficult as the one's of Bethany. They were all so intertwined. Thankfully, I would not be facing the sharp reminders of my previous life for much longer.

I had confessed my new found ability to my mother shortly after my panic attack in the hospital. After some experimentation, we learned I could only hear thoughts when in direct contact with a person's skin, which was a little, okay, a lot freaky, but at least I was safe most of the time. She, being Renee, thought it was cool, and, the next time she saw Phil, informed him that he was not crazy. He had been right all along. Unfortunately, Phil's being right did not help my situation. Immediately, he labeled me a "freak" in his mind, and refused to come within five feet of me for fear that I might either rub off on him, or know what he was thinking. Renee shrugged it off, hoping he would come around with some time to adjust, but that didn't happen.

School was no better. My first few days back, I wore my typical Phoenix clothing, T-shirts and shorts. We were, after all, in the middle of the dry Arizona heat, I would simply roast like a pig on a spit wearing anything more. My attitude quickly changed, however, when I realized just how frequently one brushed up against another while walking the halls. It seemed as though I was on everyone's minds, and their thoughts were not kind, to say the least. It only took three weeks before I gave up, taking to only wearing pants and long sleeves at school, sometimes even going so far as to cover my hands with leather driving gloves, just for some peace.

It was my chance encounter with John that finally did me in. While navigating the treacherous hallways of Mountain Point High School, whose danger quotient had increased exponentially with my current walking limitations and the need for crutches, I managed to, quite ungracefully, slip and fall. John, just so happened to be walking in the same direction, and bent down to assist me. He grabbed my wrist, at the juncture where my sleeve had slipped from it's protective covering overlapping my gloved hand. He touched bare skin. Immediately, his thoughts assaulted my mind.

"Oh shit, I can't believe I have to do this. Not gonna be good to look like a prick to the whole school though. What a bitch, I can't believe she dares to show her face around here anymore. Everyone knows she's the one who killed Bethany, and now I can't get her image out of my mind because they asked me to drive. Seriously, who the hell does that? What kind of a friend was she? Now she's walking around school all holier-than-thou, in her crazy clothing like she's suddenly afraid of germs, trying to make people feel sorry for her. Well, I don't. She should have died too!"

Tears stung the corners of my eyes as I watched John walk away. His thoughts confirmed my suspicions, those I believed were friends secretly wished I would die in some freak accident. It was amazing how much one event had changed my life, overwhelming actually. I went from being popular to being completely detested by everybody in one foul swoop. Bethany had been my one true friend, and I killed her.

The stress of home life with Phil, coupled with the horrible experience my little talent presented at school, had finally become too much. The next morning, I sat Renee at the dinning room table over cold cereal, and explained that I needed a change of pace, and wanted to live with Charlie for a while.

There were tears, and some pleading, but it didn't take her long to understand my decision was nonnegotiable. I would leave for Forks, Washington in one week.

***

"Would you like anything to drink, Miss?"

The flight attendant's words snapped me from my memories. I slowly focused on my surroundings as she repeated her question, looking at me with a kind eye. I politely refused, shaking my head and turning my attention back to the patchwork ground thousands of miles below. I deliberately picked the window seat so I could hug up against the plane's wall, hopefully ensuring my sanity, and other's privacy, for the duration of the flight. Airplanes made me nervous to begin with, but being in such close proximity to others made it that much worse.

It seemed so surreal, me, getting a chance to start over, begin a new life in a new city. Bethany would never have that chance. I struggled for composure, clutching the small cup of ice water in my shaking hand, trying to keep the tears at bay. The last thing I wanted, or needed, was to draw unnecessary attention to myself.

Already, the person occupying the seat next to me had accidentally made contact with my skin. Brushing against that treacherous spot between my sleeve and glove as he took his seat. "Odd girl, she'd probably be quite good-looking if she smiled."

The defenseless feeling rose from the pit of my stomach once again, deep breaths and intense concentration the only way to keep my slight grip on reality as I struggled to keep the panic from winning. Would this never end? Hopefully, Forks would bring me some peace.

A/N: So there you have it, chapter one...what did you think? As we mentioned earlier, we're new at this so comments are welcomed and encouraged. We'd love either positive reviews or constructive criticism to help us grow as authors. We'll be updating again soon, chapter two is currently in the works, and we hope you'll join us!