If you've have clicked on this story I will love you forever. This is my first ever story and I'm so excited to share with you. I would like to thank my kick ass beta Cydryna Marie for being wonderful even when she's been dealing with stuff. She is unbelievably awesome. Please review & let me know if I should continue. Thank you so much for clicking on this story I really hope you like it:)

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns everything:) I just like to play with them;)


Chapter 1

BPOV

Mom?

I rubbed my eyes, questioning my sight. When I spotted her, a feeling of dread washed over me. The lights were out and she was just sitting there with her back to me, staring at nothing.

"Mom?"

I asked out loud this time, hoping to get a response from her that would erase the feeling of dread that engulfed me, but nothing happened. She just went on sitting there like she hadn't heard me. So despite my feelings of uneasiness, I slowly started to make my way across the small space separating us. As I got closer I noticed that she had bald spots all over her head. Clumps of hair were lying in piles around the chair she was sitting in.

"Mom, are you all right?" I had started to make my way around the table, when I suddenly stopped. I had discovered the source of what was making me feel like something was horribly wrong. My mother's eyes were missing, leaving maggots crawling in the empty sockets, and that's when the screaming started.

I bolted right up in bed, drenched in a cold sweat. I was breathing heavily, and my heart was hammering in my chest, as if I had just run a mile. I thought I was done with these dreams. I glanced at my alarm clock on the table next to me.

2:44 am

I ran a hand through my dark, long curls and leaned back against my head board.

Great, just great, what a great way to start out my senior year, having a nightmare about my dead mother just before my first day of school

I knew it was useless to try and go back to sleep again, so I tossed my covers off and headed downstairs to get a glass of water. As I made my way to the stairs, I crept past my dad, Charlie's, room so that I didn't wake him. I turned the corner at the bottom of the stairs and stood in the doorway to our small kitchen. I set a barefoot on the cold linoleum and felt the feeling of uneasiness overtake me again, I felt as if I was reliving my nightmare. I sighed as light flooded the kitchen, revealing that I was alone, and washing away the feeling of uneasiness with it. I crossed to the cabinet above the sink and retrieved a glass. I proceeded to fill my glass with cold, refreshing water. I turned off the faucet and sighed again.

I should be over this already, she died and I'm ok with it.

I took a sip of my water and sat on the stool as I allowed myself to relive the last year.

My mom, Renee, had had the flu for over two weeks when Charlie had finally convinced her to go to the doctors. I waited at home while she was treated. It had been over 6 hours since they left and I couldn't reach my parents on their cell phones, I was become seriously worried. Just when I was about to hitch a ride to the hospital, Charlie walked through the door, alone, looking as if someone had just killed his puppy.

"Where's mom?" I remembered asking, knowing that I wasn't going to like the answer.

"Bells, let's go sit in living room?" He ran his hand over his chin as he led the way into the living room.

"Dad, what is it? What's wrong with mom?" I sat across from him on our shabby loveseat and waited while tears welled up in his chocolate brown eyes, the same color as mine. "Dad?"

"Your mom has cancer, leukemia to be exact." His voice broke at the end of the sentence. He lowered his head into his hand and I could see his body move with silent sobs. I just sat there, staring at him, waiting for him to shout "April's Fools", or tell me he was joking, but he didn't, he just continued to cry. I hadn't noticed it but tears had been running down my cheeks as we both sat there in silence. I was the one to finally break the silence after what seemed like forever.

"She'll be ok right? I mean they have all sorts of treatments they can use. She'll be fine right dad?" I refused to believe that she wouldn't make it.

"I don't know Bella, the doctors say that we can try chemotherapy, but they doubt it will help much. They say that it might be too late, it has spread Bells." He spoke without raising his head. He couldn't face this news anymore than I could at the moment.

After that horrible night, things just got a lot worse. She never came home from the hospital and the doctors had given my mom about six months to live, but by the way she looked, I thought it would be lucky if she had another two. I tried to continue with school the best I could, only telling my best friends Angela Weber and Jacob Black what was happening at home.

Charlie threw himself into his work. He claimed that he had to keep up with the mounting medical bills but I knew it was because he couldn't stand watching the love of his life wither away and die. So every day after school, I would go to the hospital and just sit with her.It was hard, sitting there knowing that it was only a matter of time till she was gone. But I had to stay strong for both my mom and Charlie.

The doctors were wrong about one thing concerning my mom. They had said she had six months to live. The cancer had destroyed her within three.

By the time I was finished remembering the last few months of my mom's life, I had finished my glass of water and it was already partially full again, only this time with my tears. I missed my mom a lot, but who I missed even more was my dad. He had changed since her death and not for the better.

After my mom's funeral, Charlie took off work at the police station, as Chief of Forks Police, for a few days. But those few days started to turn into weeks. He would just lie around the house, not doing anything. If it wasn't for me, he would have starved. Finally I had had enough and practically forced him out of the house, and back to work. I remembered this day as if it were yesterday.

I had just finished making dinner for him, when he walked in the door. I called to him from the kitchen without turning away from the meal.

"Dad? You're home early. I just finished dinner." I turned away and closed the stove, just in time to see him stumble through the entryway to the kitchen. "Dad?"

"What the hell is this mess?" he had started to walk towards me. As he made his way, he tripped over his own feet but caught himself before falling.

"Um…I just made dinner for you," I said backing away from him, pressing myself against the counter.

"You'll fucking clean this shit up," and with that he'd closed the small distance between us, I could see the anger in his eyes and smell the alcohol on his breath.

"But don't you want to ea……?" before I could fully get my question out, he back handed me. I placed my hand over my cheek as tears welled up in my eyes. Charlie had never hit me before, even when I was a child; he had always believed you could teach a child how to behave without hurting them.

"What?! Are you crying now?" his voice raised as his words started to slur together. "You've always been a piece of shit. If it wasn't for you, your mom would still be here." I could tell that he was coming in for another blow. But luckily I was faster than him in his drunken state. I ducked under his raised hand and ran for the stairs. I could hear him yelling at me as I made my way up the stairs but I didn't dare stop to see if he was following. I flew into my room and locked the door behind me. I had just curled up on my bed, when he started yelling and pounding on my door. I grabbed my iPod off of my bedside table and started to listen to my music as loud as I could, trying to drown out his yelling. Some fifteen minutes later he stopped his efforts of getting into my room. I didn't dare leave my room, or even take out my iPod. I fell asleep to the sound of Clair de Lune, and my own sobs.

The next morning I found Charlie passed out on the couch. I remained as quiet as I could as I walked back upstairs to get ready for school. Luckily, the bruise from Charlie wasn't anything I couldn't cover with some make up. I stepped into the kitchen after getting ready, and froze. Charlie was there at the sink with his back to me, cleaning up the mess from dinner last night. I tried to leave the kitchen before he realized that I was there. As I turned to leave, my Chucks produced the loudest squeaking sound, and I froze in mid-movement.

"Bells? I thought you were still asleep? Heading out for school?" I just stared at him. He was acting as if nothing had happened last night. I couldn't find my voice at the moment so I simply nodded my head. "Do you want breakfast or anything before you leave?" I shook my head no and bolted for the door before he could say anything else.

I kept my composure until I got to the school parking lot, where Angela found me sobbing in my truck.

Charlie kept drinking throughout the rest of the school year, but we never had a repeat of that night. I would often hear him stumbling up the stairs around midnight. It wasn't long until he lost his job at the police station. One day while he was out of the house, I took the opportunity to clean his filthy room. I was making his bed, after washing his sheets, when I found a small bag filled with a needle and a white substance I couldn't identify at first. Then it hit it me, Charlie was doing heroin! I sat down on his bed absolutely stunned. Alcohol didn't work at drowning his feelings so he resorted to heroin to try and make himself feel better. I began to think back on the few weeks; Charlie had seemed more relaxed lately. I knew he was still drinking because I could smell it on his breath in the morning. I just couldn't believe it. I thought about throwing the drugs away, but I didn't want a repeat of the first night he was drunk. So I stuffed the drugs back under the bed.

I wasn't proud that I was letting my dad ruin himself by using the drugs, but I was so afraid that if he found out that I knew, it would resurrect the angry Charlie from that first night.

After being alert a few minutes ago, sitting in the brightly lit kitchen, I was suddenly drained thinking about how my life had taken a turn for the worse. I dumped my glass in the sink, and headed out of the kitchen. I flicked the light off and made my way upstairs, to my room. I fell into bed, and buried myself in my warm covers. I glanced at my alarm clock before giving into sleep.

3:26am

I fell asleep with the hope that this year would be better than the last, not knowing just how wrong I could be.

So what do you think? Should I continue? Let me know in a review cause that would be wonderful.

Thanks again if you actually took the time to read this.