Disclaimer- If I owned Twilight, I'd be writing books, not fan fiction

Isabella Swan closed her eyes. The subtle vibration from the car combined with the ever present flashing red and blue lights was beginning to make her nauseous. Perhaps it was the immense quantities of alcohol she's downed previously tonight that was truly causing her sudden illness. Reasons aside, it was safe to say she felt crappy. She was going to get hell for this; that was for sure. It wasn't uncharacteristic of her in the least. Renee would hopefully act in a way which was characteristic of her and not be too harsh. Isabella couldn't shake the feeling though that this time her mom would truly crack.

"We're here." A cold voice said, interrupting her from her thoughts.

The policeman exited the car and walked around to open her door. "Get out and put your hands behind your back."

She got out and turned her back, stretching her arms behind her. Ice curled around her wrist. Or rather, it felt like ice. The cold, unwelcoming handcuffs the policeman aggressively forced onto her wrist made a click sound as he closed them to an appropriate tightness. He escorted, or rather dragged her, over to the police station. Upon entry the police officer who had picked her up nodded at another police officer sitting behind a desk.

"Hey Carl," Her police officer addressed the other. "Put this one in a holding cell while I draw up her papers."

'Carl'grabbed her arm and led her behind the desk into the area where the cells seemed to be. He guided her past a couple of cells jam packed with what looked like a couple varieties of zoned out junkies and plentiful hookers. All those residing in the cells seemed to be female and Isabella guessed that this was the section of cells designated 'feminine offenders' or something official like that.

He roughly shoved her into a cell occupied with six hookers and a slovenly twenty something girl who was stroking the wall. She must have been the occasional junkie. With no word of parting Carl slammed the cell door shut and walked away in the direction they had come. And that was it. No 'oh good luck with the whole stuck in a cell with a bunch of freaks thing'. Nope, squat.

"You," A large hooker said with lip stick smeared all over her face wearing a tacky red and silver corset matched with black fishnets and purple pumps.

"Me?" Isabella asked stupidly while pointing to herself.

"Yes you," She answered haughtily. "What you in for?"

"Um, drunken loitering," Isabella said weakly.

"Drunken loitering?" She asked incredulously. She burst out laughing and the other hookers snickered.

Isabella shrank back into the corner standing a couple of feet from the delusional junkie. The junkie acknowledged her presence by giving her a loose smile. She looked at her and smiled back. Please don't try and talk to me, Isabella prayed.

"Your eyes," The junkie breathed. Isabella groaned quietly. "They're so… deep. Like pools of chocolate."

"Thanks." Isabella offered a terse word of gratitude.

"Hey coco eyes," Another hooker called. She looked as if she was withering away. Her stringy blonde hair was pulled up in a loose bun and she sported a tight pink top exposing her midriff paired with a minuscule jean skirt. "You ever given a blowjob?" She asked. She didn't leave a chance for Isabella to answer. "Tell ya what; I'll give you some valuable tips if you give me that bracelet you're wearing."

Isabella looked at the tennis bracelet her grandmother had given her for her last birthday dangling on her wrist. "No thanks."

She snickered to herself. "You're missing out on some tips that'll drive your man crazy." She paused, did a one up, then added; "Looks like you're the kind of girl who needs a couple of pointers."

Isabella was aware they she probably looked like crap. She had thrown up several times that night and her hair was a mess. She probably looked no better then the rest of the girls in this cell but even still; that was no reason to diss her supposed sexual performance. "You know what bitch; I think I can do just fine on my own." She spat out.

"Oh no she didn't" several whispers came from the other side of the cell where the other hookers had clustered watching what now seemed to be a cat fight.

The Kate-Moss-skinny hooker who had offered paid sex advice smirked at her outburst. "Oh please hunny, I'm a professional. I know a virgin when I see one."

And that's when it all went down hill for Isabella. She was certainly not a virgin and as luck would have it, had a horrible temper. People who assumed things about her were one of her many triggers. She was stubborn and ill tempered. That's just who she was.

And that is how Isabella Swan, at three am on a Sunday morning at the neighborhood police station in Phoenix Arizona, came to knocking a hooker out in one powerful punch.

"Oh snap." Yet another out spoken hooker laughed. One of them patted her on the back. It seemed that an act of violence was what it took to get their respect.

"Hey you!" a police officer boomed while stormed down the narrow corridor gated by cells.

"Looks like you're in shit now." One of the hookers noted then proceeded to cackle and shake her head.

The police officer forcefully whipped open the cell door and looked at Isabella with fury filled eyes. "Come with me." He thundered.

As he ushered her down the hall she heard the cheers and laughs of the hookers in her cell. It occurred to her that punching hookers was not helping her in her current situation. The officer led her back into the police station and motioned to a phone.

"You get one call." he grunted. She had a feeling she was getting this call now so he could get her the hell out of here.

She fingered the numbers on the telephone dial, who to call, who to call. There was dear old mom of course, who would certainly come to pick her up from this hell hole but not without a stern talking to. She momentarily considered calling one of her friends with a car but revised her plan when she figured she'd probably need a parent or guardian to bail her out. Great, Renee it was.

"Hello?" a sleepy voice said.

"Hey mom," Isabella answered.

"Isabella?" her mom asked in a sleepy stupor.

"Uh, yeah."

"Are you in trouble?" She questioned, more alert now.

"Um, kind of; I'm at the police station."

"Oh heavens," Her mom breathed "I'll be there soon."

Isabella hung up. She was comforted by the fact that she wouldn't be here much longer but disturbed by the fact that her mom would be picking her up at a police station. It was a catch 22, bad on all fronts.

The officer asked her questions while she waited for her mother. Things like how old are you and how often do you usually drink. It was complete bullshit in her opinion. Did anyone ever tell the truth with these kinds of questions?

"Bella." Renee called as she walked through the doors. Bella was her mother's nickname for her. Everyone else called her Isabella.

"Hey mom." She offered as her mom immersed her in a tight bear hug.

"Miss Swan?" The police officer asked Isabella's mom.

"Yes?"

"Please sign these papers permitting Isabella Swan to be released to your care. The bail is five hundred dollars. Please make the check out to Phoenix Police Department." The officer said suddenly being courteous. Of course he saved such kind treatment for the non-criminals.

Her mom scribbled down her signature on the papers and wrote a check. "Thank you sir." she said as she led Isabella through the doors. They both climbed into her mom's car.

"Bella." Renee said calmly once they started the car. "I can't do this anymore."

"Do what anymore?" Isabella questioned.

"This. Last month it was picking you up at the hospital for alcohol poisoning and now I'm picking you up at the police station for drunken loitering. I can't tolerate it any longer."

"Alright, fine, I get it. I've been behaving badly lately." Isabella said defensively.

"Lately doesn't even begin to cover it Bella." Renee said quietly. "Ever since you were little you've been rebelling. And I can't seem to do anything about it." Her eyes were getting teary.

"I'm sorry mom." Isabella whispered.

"You're going to live with your father, in Forks."

"WHAT?" she yelled in shock. Life was over. This was the end. She would have to live in that depressing little town with sad little people and die old and alone. She could see it now. "Pull over."

"What? Why?" Renee questioned.

"I have to puke." The car parked at the side of the road and Isabella bolted out. She knelt down and puked the contents of her stomach beside a cactus. Whether it was the alcohol or the prospect of living in Forks, she didn't know.

A/N: Please review to let me know if I should continue this story. I love feedback.