Prologue:

They say a picture's worth a thousand words, but then again don't actions speak louder than words. I used to believe my life story was nothing special and at a certain point in my life, there was no statement I could agree with more than that—the life stories of my clients were more than your average fairy tale; in some cases they could even pass as nightmares. I didn't choose this job; it picked me and for that, I am grateful.

It started with a man who witnessed one of my abnormalities that my mother and I have grown accustomed to as I grew up. He didn't explain why he was interested in me; he just gave me his business card and told me to call him if I was interested. I would've never guessed what was in store for me nor would I've believed it if it were so bluntly stated to me.

I never understood what my job was for or why the histories of others were so important; most importantly, I didn't know why I was chosen for this position—not then at least. I mean, what was the point in interviewing vampires anyway? What were they gaining from that or more importantly what were they gaining from me?

Chapter One: Dead On Arrival

My mother's wedding day is today. I'm happy for her; i really am, but I'm not happy. There's no joyous feeling in the sense that today is going to be an exciting day. To be honest, I'm dreading the wedding. I know I sound selfish. My mother deserves happiness, and who am I to keep that from her? I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm scared. Phil's a great guy, don't get me wrong, and so was Charlie, but look what happened between them; they divorced after only a couple of years. I guess what I'm actually afraid of is change; I just don't feel as if everything will be the same after all of this is over.

It's times like these that I need a father, not just any father, but my father. I never met him, but I just feel as if these types of moments are the ones when I need him. Don't get me wrong, Renee is a wonderful mother and I share practically everything with her, but sometimes I just need someone else to talk to and share my thoughts with. I know it seems selfish; there are people out there that don't have either of their parents and here i am complaining about the absence of my real father, but sometimes I feel as if that's what I need—my father.

He makes her happy, happier than I've ever seen her in a long time, but it just doesn't seem as if she'll be my mom anymore. I mean, yes, technically she is the woman who gave birth to me and took care of me all 17 years of my life, but she won't just be my mom; she'll be his wife too. I'm being selfish again. What's the matter with me? It's not as if I'm going to lose her forever. Things will just be a little... different.

I sighed as the hired make up artist applied the last strokes of blush to my cheeks. I didn't really need the blush, since my cheeks turned red rather often—more often then I'd like—but it looked decent enough, nonetheless. My hair was in an up doe with curls dangling from the messy bun on top of my head. It looked nice, but it wasn't how I'd ever manipulate my hair. The style was too elegant for my taste and formal enough to attend a wedding in it; maybe I'm overreacting. The hairstylist did a wonderful job; I shouldn't be criticizing her about how I wouldn't wear my hair. This wasn't supposed to be for me; this was for Renee.

What I should be criticizing is the dress she decided to pick out. I know bridesmaid's dresses are known to be tasteless and tacky, but this dress couldn't compliment any normal person's body. There were too many ruffles and bows; the amount of lace was overwhelming and the color was horrendous. I'm not much for fashion, but all I can say is this color pink reminds me of vomit, and vomit isn't usually pink to begin with. Overall, the dress looks like something a five-year-old would come up with, but that's Renee, my five-year-old mother. I guess I'm being a little harsh. The dress can't be that bad.

My room was empty by now, the hairstylist and make up artists probably left moments ago seeing as I wasn't the type ideal company people favored, and my mother still needed to get ready along with the rest of her bridesmaids. I stood and looked this way and that, while twisting the skirt of my dress with my hands in front of the mirror that was in my room as I desperately tried to find an angle where the dress didn't look so hideous. It wasn't working so I dropped the skirt with a sigh and sat back down at my dressing table.

The dress could never be pulled off by someone like me. There was just no way. My mother's other bridesmaids were so beautiful, though—they could've worn rags and still looked runway model material. It was positively unfair; they were just so stunning. Somehow, they manage to inherit this gorgeousness, an alien beauty that lowered my self-esteem and heightened my jealousy. I wonder if all people in Alaska looked like them.

I wish I were that beautiful. Don't get me wrong. I know I'm not ugly or anything, just nothing special. My appearance was rather dull. I'm aware beauty isn't skin deep, but sometimes I wish I were beautiful on the outside. I sound so vain right now; it's so wrong. My thoughts shouldn't be going in that direction. Abruptly, my door swung open with my mother bustling in quickly behind it.

"Oh honey, you look so beautiful." She said with full sincerity, but then quickly moved on with what she really wanted. Stress usually keeps her from beating around the bush; if she wasn't stressed out about her wedding, this conversation could have taken quite a while. "One of the straps broke on the shoes for my dress, and I know you told me to get a back up pair, but I couldn't pick which back up pair to get so I just got them both. So, which one do you like better?"

She lifted her skirt and posed with each foot to show off the two rather different styles I had as choices. The one on my right had two classic white straps that ran across the knuckles of her toes and her lower foot. The one on my left was blinding. The heel was much higher and the straps were encrusted with dozens of swarovski crystals. The glittering straps ran across the knuckles of her toes, up the top middle of her foot and wrapped around her ankle. The second one was beautiful, but I had a soft spot for the first classy, less shiny, shoe. If I knew Renee as I thought I knew her, my opinion wouldn't really matter all that much in the decision, but I said what I thought anyway.

"I like the one on my right." I told her as I motioned toward the shoe I picked. Her eyes showed that the shoe I picked wasn't the one she wanted me to choose.

"Yeah, that one's nice, but don't you think the other one is a bit more suitable for the wedding. I mean, they match my accessories perfectly, and their just so beautiful."

"Then wear those."

"The other ones are pretty too, though. I mean, you even said you liked them better. I don't know; I just can't decide."

"Mom, we both know that you really want to wear the second pair, so why don't we just skip the rest of this argument and go right to the outcome. Wear those; they look perfect on you." I tried to sound as convincing as I could, but I knew it wasn't enough so I cheated a little. "I think Phil will love them on you." Mentally, I cringed at that last statement. I didn't like talking about Phil and it made me feel uncomfortable to bring him up for my own purpose of cutting this chitchat with my mother short.

"Oh, you really think so? I'm so excited Bella; it's just—he's so perfect, and the way he treats me, oh, it just makes me feel so much younger, you know?"

"Yeah, mom, he's a really nice guy for you."

"He is; isn't he? I was thinking—

"Renee, the limo's here. You don't want to miss your own wedding; do you?" As one of Renee's other bridesmaids, Carmen, interrupted our conversation, I let out a small sigh of relief. It's not that I don't enjoy conversing with Renee, it's just I had a feeling I wouldn't appreciate where it was heading.

"Oh, then let's go." Renee said with a smile as she quickly stood and began towards the door of my room. "Common' Bella, I can't get married without my maid of honor." She joked in the doorway and waited for me to follow.

I got up and headed towards my mother; I must've moved too quickly for her liking for she gave me a stern look. This was a reoccurring problem for me since as long as I could remember. I was rather fast for most people whether it was my reflexes or just normal walking; I've never noticed my increased pace because I was so accustomed to it, but my mother always took every chance she could get to reprimand me for some reason.

I guess it made her feel more like my mom than my friend or maybe she didn't want others to notice my abnormal speed. Either way I tried to slowly walk down the hallway with my mother to the outside world of Phoenix; I must've been doing something right for she gave me a smile in return as we continued towards the limo under the oddly overcast sky.

AN: I know it's not the most interesting thing you've ever read, but the way Bella thinks is important and the wedding kick starts everything. Read and review please. Tell me what you like and don't like. What parts of my writing should I work on? Is my grammar and punctuation atrocious? Was the summary of my story a yawn fest? I appreciate constructive criticism, but don't go overboard and start yelling at me about how dumb and uncreative I am. I hope you all enjoyed what you read.

Disclaimer: this is fanfiction I don't own any of these characters. I will be sure to advise you if I throw in one of my own characters, but as of right now all characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. The story title and this chapter title belongs to Fall Out Boy. I hope I didn't leave anything out. :D