Disclaimer: All characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own the plot.

This is my first fan fiction EVER and probably my last… only time will tell. All I can say is, I learn a lot over time and I hope you will give my story a chance.

Click on my profile and enter my blog where you will find my original stories. I promise those are like nothing you ever read.

I hope you enjoy my story as it develops and I will see you on the blog.

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Chapter One

March

I woke up. Once again I was brought back to consciousness by the sweat beads rolling off my face and down to soak in the cotton pillow case.

I considered turning on the air conditioning again, but decided not to. I didn't want to get too comfortable, it would only make the pain worse. It was better to be uncomfortable, sweaty and sticky; it made it easier to evade the forbidden thoughts - the ones that hurt and haunt me.

I closed my eyes again as I remembered why I had woken up - the dreams. I sighed heavily. The dreams I wasn't able to control, they came to me, even though I tried my damn best to chase them away. The dreams, those were forbidden, but uncontrollable. I hadn't quite worked out how to keep those away yet.

It wasn't that the forbidden dreams were unpleasant, it was more the opposite. The dreams were nice and warm, comfortable and a safe haven. That was the problem. They drowned me in a place that didn't exist anymore. I wanted to flee. I needed to escape.

I hadn't considered my escape for very long. It was more an impulse decision that I had stuck with. People around me had advised me not to go and they tried to convince me to stay home and piece my life back together. But I knew better - or so I thought. I needed to get away from them and all their worry-filled piercing eyes. People around me were always checking, measuring my mood, evaluating my sanity. I would suffocate if one more person would send me the 'when is she going to crack' look. I knew that glare well, especially from my mother Renée. I had decided I wasn't going to fall to pieces, at least not in front of them.

The only person who had supported my decision was my second heart, Alice. She had smiled an honest smile and answered soberly. "I think that is a good idea, Bella. I think it will do you some good," she had said.

I'd tried to keep the panic from seeping through my skin. I wanted to hide the fact I had absolutely no idea what the hell I was doing. Somehow, I had even succeeded in hiding it from Alice. There wasn't much in this world I could or wanted to hide from her. But this panic, I had wanted to conceal to ensure my escape.

The plan had been extremely simple. I would basically leave everything behind. The plan didn't take long to put together and even less time to see to an end. That gave me very little time to chicken out.

It all happened like this:

I agreed with my boss I would take a leave of absence from my job as a make-up artist at the small theater. They would hire temporary help in my position. Hopefully there would be a spot for me when I returned home later this year. I chose not to tell Eric, my boss, I wasn't sure if I was coming back at all.

Next step, I sold the house. Luckily for me the market was peaking and buyers were many and overbidding. The house sold in a week and I wanted to get out, the sooner the better. I couldn't stand staying in the place that had once been ours. Selling the property had left me with a spare pile of cash I had not expected.

I chose to rent a small storage area for the items I chose to keep from the house. I did want to keep a few things from my past and I couldn't exactly take them with me. I was definitely not going to leave them with my mother and I didn't want to bother Alice with them either. Even though, I knew if I asked she would find space for them.

Now the last problem… where was I supposed to go? There was nowhere I wanted to go without him! Not without my Jacob.

I opened my eyes wondering if I should allow myself to feel the forbidden dream once again. Another sweat bead rolled toward the pillow. I wiped my skin clean, before the drop reached the pillow. I closed my eyes and let the warm images form behind my lids.

Flash

I could see his face; a lock of black hair fell down over his forehead. He frowned as he did a once over of my body, evaluating my shirt. He was leaning against the kitchen counter, with a bowl of cereal in his hand. He was eating his breakfast standing, as always. I always hated that. What was wrong with sitting down and eating at the table?

"Sorry babe, but that shirt is definitely not doing you any favors." He smiled, while shoving another spoonful into his mouth. His eyes were teasing and playful as he chewed.

"I know... it's yours." I tried to hide my regret with a smile. "Just trying to find the most attractive way to show you the load of laundry I ruined." I muttered, fidgeting with the hem of the shirt.

He groaned. "Seriously, again?" He put the bowl on the counter and reached for my hand. He grabbed the ruined t-shirt yanking it over my head. Jacob started kissing my neck, then my mouth and suckled my lip.

I abruptly forced my eyes open again, the memory was too painful. This recollection of our fun times together was too happy to allow memorizing and I was not staying in bed again today. I needed to go outside as I hadn't breathed the scorching fresh air at all yesterday. So continuing this memory would incapacitate me with pain and force me stay in bed.

I straddled off the bed and walked to the bathroom. A cold shower would do me some good. The lukewarm water did help me. My somber mood had improved ever so slightly when I dried off. It cooled my skin and calmed me without making my mind escape to a painful time that once was. The time before my heart was broken.

I ransacked my bag and found what I was looking for. A white cotton singlet and a light green canvas skirt. I loved this skirt because it was comfortable in this blistering heat. I was getting better at choosing my clothes for this place. In the beginning it had been a nightmare. All my clothes had been too heavy and too confiding for this place. I had been hot and sticky and unable to move in my confining clothes. After a week I had given up and had gone shopping.

Through my headless and unplanned running I had basically ended up pointing my finger at random place on a map. It happened to fall on Thailand and I had escaped to a small secluded island as that seemed as good a place as any. I had ended up at the Twong's small family resort as they were the first to offer accommodation trying to pick up guests for their place. It happened on the boat sailing to the island, I didn't care where I ended up, I just needed a bed.

I was more or less on a first name basis with several of the family members that ran this place. At least I think they were a family. It seemed like they did most things together; they all lived here and treated each other as family instead of co-workers. Everyone was treated the same it appeared, that was what I liked about this place - everyone seemed to be equal and happy

It wasn't small resort, but not big either. I guess there were thirty or so huts scattered along the beach, some were more private than others. This wasn't luxurious, but just had all that I needed - privacy. My hut was placed almost at the end of the uneven line of buildings. I called them huts and not bungalows as they weren't big enough to be bungalows, that would require several rooms and was not the case. Mine was a one-roomed hut with a bathroom. The room was simply furnished with a queen size bed and very minimalistic. The entire room was white and tiled, leaving the room surprisingly cool in this heat. The bathroom was small with a shower, toilet and a tiny vanity to stash your personal toiletries in.

I absolutely loved my small hut; it gave me a homey feeling without getting personal. Like I said, everything I needed for my escape.

My stomach started to feel uneasy, but I didn't pay attention to it as I was probably just hungry. I didn't have anything to eat yesterday, I didn't have an appetite.

I stepped out of my hut closing the door behind me. The sun was already high in the sky and the heat intense. I put my flip-flops on and walked onto the scorching sand. I preferred to have my feet bare, but the sand would burn my soles. I started across the beach to the main building. I wanted breakfast, before I got hungrier.

The main building looked like a private home, more than what it really was - a reception desk, a restaurant, a TV room, and everything else needed when running a resort. I loved it; it felt homey even though I was basically homeless at the moment - by choice anyway.

As I walked in the front door leaving my flip-flops outside, my stomach did another somersault, making me feel nauseous. Yeah, surely I needed to get some food down and fast. The old woman, who did all the cooking, greeted me with a toothless smile. "Bella," she chimed with an odd accent distorting my name. That was about all that we could communicate. Her face was painted with a life of hardship, but her eyes shined wisdom. She somehow reminded me of my grandmother.

I walked to the menu sign and pointed to what I wanted for breakfast. This was how I ordered my food here. In the kitchen, bare footed and directly to the cook. The old woman smiled again, not really paying attention where I pointed. She already knew what I would ask for.

The nausea increased and I took a deep breath to settle my stomach, but it did little good. I went back to the dining room headed to my usual spot. I stopped bluntly and I stared surprised as my seat was taken. My chair was normally never taken. Of all the places he could sit, why there? It was practically the worst spot in the entire room.

The man had his head stuck in a book, paying no attention to my presence. His hair was raven black fitting the native population here, probably another family member I hadn't noticed.

The man looked up at me, as I stood there in the middle of the room ogling like an idiot. There was nothing but empty chairs to choose from. He greeted me a halfhearted smile as he returned to his book.

Stunned, I kept staring at the man. My assumption had been completely wrong. He was definitely not Asian and definitely not a family member. His skin was not the russet dark tone as the Twong family's, the people who owned this place. It was pale, fine textured, surely well taken care of. He had clear piercing green eyes that stood in direct contrast to his black hair. It looked rather odd. I blinked to stop my imbecile staring and went to sit at opposite end of the room. I didn't need anyone to take my seat. I knew it was stupid and childish, but I couldn't help feeling like some had taken my favorite doll and wouldn't give it back.

The uneasy feeling in my stomach rolled again and like a freight-train the nausea hit me. I was going to be sick! I shot up from my chair but there was no way I would make it back to my hut. I ran as quickly as I could, but only making it to the door and to my astonishment I got sick right there. I crouched over a flower arrangement in an uneven stone setting and the inside of my stomach ran from my mouth and down into the flowers. The smell hit me and my stomach cramped again. The bile finally stopped running into my mouth and I spit the last of the vile vomit out onto the flower bed.

I was faintly aware someone was standing by my side, trying to gather my hair and keep it from falling into my puke. The old woman from the kitchen came running yelling something in Thai, but I had no idea what. Mr. Twong from the reception materialized from behind the reception desk. "Mr Twong, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry. I couldn't make it back..." The violent sickness rolled again and my stomach heaved and I could taste the vomit in the back of my mouth and the flower setting took another hit.

"Kachiri!" Mr Twong yelled for his wife. She came running from the TV-room. From the apron around her tiny waist and rubber gloves covering her hands, I guessed she was cleaning. Something in Mr. Twong's voice must have set her off, because normally she was so calm. Kachiri left for a moment and reemerged with a yellow plastic bucket in her hand - practical and more appropriate. I took a step backwards, and let myself fall to my knees. Someone handed me a napkin from a table.

"Can someone please get a cold washcloth for her face?" The voice was calm, warm and clearly American, judging from the accent.

"I'm so sorry, I'll clean this up immediately. I'm sorry." I muttered. I was so embarrassed that tears started to develop. I hated the tears, but not for this reason. These were tears of humiliation and not grief. These were different, but they were still tears. I sat staring at the floor for a few moments trying to get a few deep breaths all the way into my lungs. I looked up for the first time. Mr. and Mrs. Twong stood next to each other; their eyes were filled with worry. The toothless old woman slowly and comfortingly padded my shoulder. She definitely had the same touch as my grandmother. I looked into the fourth set of eyes. They were clear, green and deep.

"You can let go of my hair now." I murmured. I didn't mean for it to sound so harsh, but I was just angrily horrified by my display of sickness.

"Does that mean you're not going for round three?" He countered, his voice showing no sign of disgust. He released my hair and handed me a cold moist cloth.

"I seriously hope not." I couldn't help smiling at his comment. "I get this cleaned up right away Mrs. Twong. I'm sorry I ruined your flowers"

"No, no, no, Ms. Bella, don't you worry. Go back to your bed and I'll take care of this." Kachiri's accent was strange, but her voice motherly and comforting. "Go to bed now. My mother will bring you some tea to make you feel better." Kachiri smiled kindly.

I wiped the cold cloth across my face. It felt good. I felt my head whirl drunkenly. I took a deep breath to conceal my head-rush as I stood up to fast. "Thanks" I murmured and shrugged apologetically walking out of the door leaving the scene of violent sickness behind me.

"Wait." The odd green eyed man called. "You might wanna take this... just in case." He smiled and held out the yellow plastic bucket. I cringed.

I got back to my room and this time I turned on the air condition. I hoped the cool air would make me feel better; at least numb the nausea a little. It wasn't long until there was a knock on the door. The person didn't wait for an answer but just walked in. The old woman, who apparently was Kachiri's mother, came in holding a tray with tea and some dry bread slices. She placed the tray on the top of the dresser. I was sitting on the edge of my undone bed with my head in my hands. I had the yellow bucket placed conveniently close... just in case. The old woman looked at me and then with her hands gestured for me to go sit on a chair by the table. I obliged groggily.

She started arranging my bed, shaking pillows, airing out the sheets. Then she put the tray with tea, bread and fresh washcloths next to my bed. She then pointed to me to go lie down and drink some tea. Again, I was complaisant as ever and did as I was told. The bed felt nice and cool. It was soothing.

I must have fallen asleep after I had finished the tea; but suddenly I was wide awake again as I located what had woken me. There was no doubt; I was going to be sick again. I yanked the yellow bucket closer and vomited into it. My stomach churned and I rolled to my side. This was the worst stomachache I had ever had. I pulled my legs up into fetal position. It was the most comfortable - if you could even call it that.

I searched for the washcloth to wipe my face, but my tray was gone and replaced with several new and clean cloths, a bottle of water and some toast. Someone had been in my room. I took a cool cloth and wiped my face. It was surprisingly nice to clean ones face after puking your guts out.

I stood up taking the bucket to the bathroom to get rid of the evidence. Halfway there I started to sprint - this time I actually made it to the bathroom.

The hours past and I wasn't getting any better. The violent sickness continued and the Twong's were getting increasingly worried. They checked on me frequently, even though it made me feel even more uncomfortable. I felt my condition required privacy, or at least a person you knew and trusted, surely not a complete stranger.

I got worse. Mrs Aiko decided to sit with me for the night, just in case I didn't start to improve. It did get worse, mainly because I had nothing left to project and my body just continued to convulse. I slept on and off, in between trips to the bathroom. I could feel my strength seeping from my body and I got weaker. This was a different weakness than I was used to. I couldn't help this one; it had power over me, the stomach flu taking absolute control of my body. The weakness I was used to, I had power over. I could see that clearly now, that sluggishness I could get over if I wanted to. I decided here and now, I would start trying to get over losing Jacob.

It took two days for the stomach-flu to leave my body. The Twong's called a doctor at midday of the second day. The doctor gave me something to settle my insides. It helped, but I still wasn't sure I was completely vomit-proof. I didn't want to risk eating anything; I would give my body a little more time to recover. So I settled for having a cup of tea every few hours.

Day three. I ventured outside of my hut and I was lounging in my hammock. It was evening, a little cooler than normally. I lay relaxing, absorbed in my private thoughts. I had slept most of the day as I guessed my body needed it. I was still extremely embarrassed. I tried to put it off with, 'it could happen to anybody', but the chagrin still sat heavily in my mind.

I considered my decision again, that I would try to get better. It seemed this series of pyrotechnic displays had one good effect. It made me realize things could get a lot worse if I continued this path of mourning that was only spiraling downwards. It was so cliché, and I hated clichés, but on some level I knew I couldn't keep adding fuel to my fire of grief. I had to stop this and find a way to fix myself. Ignoring everything I had had, everything I had lived for and lived with for the past eight years, had done me very little good so far. I needed to come up with a solution how to fix it. I just didn't have the faintest idea where to start. I knew I was an utter mess.

I didn't hear the man coming, but secretly hoped he would leave me alone so didn't need to face him again. It wasn't particular flattering to be so violently sick in public. I felt like I was hung out for display like dirty laundry.

"You look better." He smiled, but it was laced with concerned.

I tilted my head to confirm my worst fears. Yes indeed, this was the green-eyed man who had held my hair.

"Yes. Thank you." I retorted politely.

"Looked like the flu hit you pretty hard, I almost panicked thinking I'd caught it to." He smiled softly, but still looked concerned. "Don't think you would've held my hair." His expression turned amused and he chuckled.

"Thank you for your help... but it really wasn't necessary, I had it under control." The chagrin changed the color in my cheeks and I flushed deeply. I was so humiliated.

"I'm sorry hun... but you had nothing under control." He smirked as if he tried to choke back a grin. "I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be rude... please forgive me." His striking and deep green eyes went back to worrying. I studied his face for a brief moment taking aback by the perfection of his features. His unnatural black hair was in complete, but charming disarray. His jaw was chiseled and strong, covered in by a rugged layer of facial hairs. But all together there was something mesmerizing about his face.

"It's fine, don't worry about it, I just wished a stranger hadn't held my hair." I muttered.

It was quiet for a moment and I was painfully aware he was still watching my face. "It's okay. I've seen worse." He shrugged. I stared at him, what did that mean? I sat up in the hammock. I wanted to ask what he meant, but he cut me off before I could. "You feel better soon, okay." He said sympathetically, and then he left.

He was fairly tall, taller than I had expected. The line across his shoulders was almost straight and broad. His frame hinted an athlete, perhaps a swimmer. Thinking about those green eyes, I thought there was something familiar about his face. I racked my brain trying to remember who it was he resembled. Visually, I followed him walk further down the beach. He stopped at the last hut and settled in the hammock. Just two huts down from mine and halfway hidden behind a palm-tree. Shortly after I gave up contemplating where I had seen him and lay back in my hammock and relaxed. I stole a glance in his direction once in a while, watching him watching me.

This place would be a paradise to everyone else, but to me it was turning into a personal hell. It was a mistake to come here. The eerie thoughts started creep back into my mind as night fell. I had promised myself I would start to get better. I would try to do that because I couldn't let this go on or I would lose myself in eternal darkness. My depression was eating me whole.

I lay stiffly on my bed. I had thought of a solution I would use to fix me. All the memories I had been blocking from my mind, I would try to face them dead on. I would remember them, accept them, and file them into boxes in my head. They would be in order and I would accept they were memories and there would no more of my Jacob. This was my plan.

Surely as the coward I was, I found every tangible excuse to do something else to keep my head busy. It felt masochistic to start this project as I wasn't even sure it would work. Maybe it would just make everything worse to remember him?

I took a deep breath. I started searching through memories; I found one - this was where I would start.

Flash

I was 16 years old. I was an outsider. I had moved with my mom back New York where she was born. My father Charlie was a cop, and at the age of five we had moved to Forks. I had felt at home there and was sad when I had to move back to New York, but my mother had insisted. My parents had drifted apart, not that they ever had anything in common to begin with, and gotten a divorce. My mother had vetoed, if she was spending a lot of time alone, then she would prefer to do it in a place she felt at home. That was it and we had moved. She never did feel at home in Forks, it would never be her home - not that she even tried.

I had started at a small private high school in NY. It wasn't easy starting over at sixteen. I was awkward and I didn't fit in. I didn't look like any of the other kids, I was too ordinary. There was nothing noticeable about my dull brown eyes or my chestnut brown hair, thick and straight. Also my skin was fairer than most of the other girls, the texture finer somehow, making me almost see-through.

I fast forward through the memory; sorting through people I had once known and lost contact with. Most of them by choice, anyway.

He hadn't seemed shy and was very direct the first time he had spoken to me. I had been at my new school for approximately a month and a half. I was alone and I had no friends.

"You're Isabella, right?" He looked straight at me.

"Bella." I mumbled. I had noticed him around the halls of the school. I searched my head for more things to say, but I came up empty. I wasn't used to socializing with any of the kids at my school.

"You're the silent type, aren't you?" He smiled widely, a huge grin with startling white teeth compared to his dark russet skin.

"Not really." I answered quietly. In Forks I hadn't been silent, but I was never one for grand gestures or causing a racket either, I had just blended in.

"I think you are. Prove me wrong someday. By the way, I'm Jacob." He grinned boyishly before his friends had caught up with him and he had left. One of his friends gave me the evil eye over his shoulder. I knew why, he was the only person I had been in contact with here and that had been a huge mistake I had cried myself to sleep over it. I promised never to tell anyone what happened.

Jacob was hanging with what you would call the popular crowd. I was the opposite, I hung out with myself. His friends didn't seem to like me much, but to be honest the feeling was more or less mutual - I didn't like them much either.

I was in the library late one afternoon. I was trying to finish a paper I'd forgotten to do, or had chosen not to do considering how you looked at it. My teacher had given me another chance to get a grade and not have an F on my report card.

"So when are you going to prove to me you're not the silent type?" His broad mouth stretched into a smile.

I made an embarrassing squealing noise as I was startled by his sudden presence. I hadn't heard him coming. "I don't know." I murmured.

"Not today either, I guess." Jacob frowned and made a face, then left the room before I had the chance to pointedly counter his remark.

Why was I so unable to speak when spoken to? I wasn't shy. Words just escaped me when I needed them. I had no problem speaking up in class, it just around people and kids at my school, I felt alien to them. I wasn't the person with the quick comeback or the answer for everything. I guess I would have to settle for being the silent type.

I saw him outside sitting at the back piece of a bench reading, when I left the library. I stalked toward him on my way to the subway. "I didn't take you for a reader." I huffed nonchalantly as I passed him.

Jacob walked me home that afternoon. After that, we were together most of the time. In the beginning it has caused a lot of gawking in the halls and a lot of talking behind backs. Jacob wasn't Mr. Popular, but surely wasn't unpopular either. His friends had tolerated me, and I them. Jacob defended me when his friends didn't approve of his choices, but eventually they had accepted me. From then on it was just Bella and Jacob – Jacob and Bella.

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I hope you liked my first chapter… and I am working on the next one. Tell me what you think.

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