A/N: Hi guys, this is the first story I've ever done and I though I would put it up on here because I want to see what other people think of my writing. Thank you for reading this first chapter, hopefully you'll enjoy it. I would appreciate any reviews you decide to leave. Thank you.
Chapter 1

The City of Oakridge is a beautiful area, surrounded by the vast Willamette National Forest, where families and businesses live and grow, work and play, live and dream, in a safe and sustainable community. With 500 miles of trails surrounding the city, it truly is a mountain biking paradise. Oakridge is a scenic place to live, work, and play.

Well at least that's what the website says. I wouldn't personally know, seeing as I've never even visited, but that certainly going to change soon. You see, I, Evie Harrison, know all about the 'safe and sustainable community' of Oakridge and how due to the elevation of the city, which in case you're wondering is somewhere between one thousand two hundred and one thousand seven hundred, the weather is just perfect. I know all about this, simply because I'm going to live there.

"We're almost there, Sweetie" That would be Ella, she's my Godmother but for all intents and purposes I class her as my aunt. I flash her an appreciative smile in the rear view mirror of the car, a very expensive car might I add. I pull the sleeve of my thick cardigan over my hand and wipe away the condensation that had built up on the window as a result of the cold, early morning air. Apparently Oakridge's 'great weather' is running little late today. The deep green of the leaves and the murky brown of the bark blend together, creating a blur of colour, making the scenic view look like a once perfect painting that had been smudged and distorted until it was unrecognizable. I sway slightly to the left as the car swiftly turns a corner, starting down the final stretch before entering Oakridge. The view surrounding the car is the same from every angle, nothing but trees and road and the strange but breath-taking mixture of blue, pink and orange that make up the sunrise.

At first I found the sight fascinating, having grown up amongst the office buildings of metropolitan Boston, the idea of real trees were a big deal, so the concept of a whole forest was pretty fascinating. Soon, however, after watching the Willamette national forest fly by for about half an hour I grew jaded. As we continue down the road, I stare straight ahead, through the gap in between the heads of Ella and Edward, my Godfather, in the front of the car, and see the distant sign, slowly creeping closer and closer, gradually growing bigger and bigger. My hands fidget restlessly in my lap. I'm not usually an agitated person, at least I don't think I am. Anyway something about moving here made me nervous, I know it's probably the fact I'm moving across the country but still, I keep getting this feeling, an unnerving, foreign feeling in the pit of my stomach. And it's that feeling that lets me know that something life-changing is going to happen to me in this city. And let me tell you I've had quite enough of life-changing events. As the sign sails towards me I can finally distinguish the words.

Welcome to Oakridge Population 3320

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I feel a cascade of emotion crash over me, each one hitting me with an outstanding force before being replaced by another mere moments later. Excitement. Fear. Joy. Melancholy. Indignation. Freedom. Helplessness. Gratitude. Anxiousness. They are just a few I can pull from the endless stream, to put it simply I don't know how I feel. But one thing I know, one thing I'm certain of, is that moving here is either going to be the best decision of my life or the worst. The bad news, I don't know which one it is yet.


I don't know what I was expecting when I arrived at the Clarks residence but whatever I was expecting, didn't happen. The sun was just beginning to rise over the peaks of the Cascade Mountains in the distance, bathing everything I could see in an orange hue. The car bumped and jerked slightly as we continued down the seemingly endless dirt road that led solely to the Clarks land. I guess you could say I was confused, ever since we turned onto this road we've been surrounded by the usual landscape of Oakridge, trees, trees and more trees. I don't understand how there could possibly be a house anywhere close to here. But then, through my open window, I smell fresh air, yes most of the air here in Oakridge is fresh, but this is a different fresh. Unlike the wet, earthy smell that I've experienced so far, this is the fresh air of an open space, it smells like freshly cut grass and air that's so pure and clean, you'd think it had never been tainted by the outside world, that it had never before been breathed by a human being. And low and behold, mere seconds after the smell reaches me so does the sight. The trees quickly become scarce creating almost a perfect horseshoe shape, and what was inside that space, I was not expecting.

Vibrant green grass stretched out for what seemed like miles, to be honest it probably was, fences of what look like cedar cut across the field a few yards in front of a house that looks modern but also looks like it's been situated there for forever. Aunt Ella told me had told me in the car that it had been built quite recently, back in 2003, June to be exact. But, moving on, Ella and Edward had built this house when they moved here, wanting a place where their kids could grow up safe and happy, and what better place to do that than on 171 acres of open space.

The car stopped outside the house, next to a garage that I knew would hold cars, which would probably have a collective price no lower than one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Maybe I could get used to Oakridge after all.

I hauled myself out of the car bringing my hand luggage with me whilst Edward pulled my bags from the trunk. I wanted to help but I was in awe of the house. No matter how perfect it seemed from afar, it was even more so up close. It was two stories tall, made of what looked like black-painted wood and white-painted brick and had a huge porch that jutted out of the side and wrapped around the back and looked as if it was made of the same wood as the fence. From a distance it seemed to be immersed in the landscape, hidden. But from where I was stand now it stands out in sharp contrast to the rest of the area, but somehow that was what made the house so breath-taking. Peering up, I see that no lights are on in the house, not that it surprises me, my 'god brothers' as I call them, Brennan and Logan are both teenage boys who, if it was their choice, wouldn't be up before the sun.

I get settled quite quickly which I'm thankful for seeing as it's close to 5 am and I've been travelling all night. Ella and Edward make sure I'm settled before heading to bed themselves, I think they understood I'm a bit too tired to socialize properly right now. I leave my suitcase where my Godfather left them, wherever that is, and fall straight into bed, the bed that is going to be mine for quite some time.


For a few hours I get some peaceful sleep, but then it starts again. Most people in my situation would be scared to go to sleep because they don't want to see the flashbacks, I'm scared to go to sleep because I know I won't see them. Most people in my situation would do anything to forget but I'd give everything to remember. Even one tiny detail, a small minuet piece of knowledge to let me know that it actually happened. That it wasn't some tragic story they just conjured up to tell me. It had to be. Things like what happened to me, they don't happen in real life, do they? They can't. I refuse to believe this world could be so cruel.


I see snow. It's everywhere. Covering the trees and the pavements, the buildings and the cars, all in a soft blanket of white that makes every colour no matter how dull stand out. Whether it's the dismal grey of the road or the shiny red of a parked BMW that glistens in the seemingly heatless winter sun.

I hear laughter. It surrounds me. Echoing through the empty space of the park, filling the once quite place with joyous sounds of youth and entertainment. The sound begins to multiple as more voices join the melody. An angelic chuckle, a deep guffaw, a light giggle, an exultant hoot, a high titter. All blend into one tune, each one complimenting the next perfectly as if it had been rehearsed a thousand times over.

I smell the cold. It bites at my cheeks. Engulfing me in its sharp and crisp and dizzyingly icy air. The air carries the scent of winter, the tepid, sweet, smell of hot chocolate and the dense, comforting aroma of warm cinnamon rolls. It relaxes me, the cold air spreads through my veins making me shiver, but this moment is too perfect to be truly effected by the temperature.

I feel the wind. It cuts through my coat. Chilling me to the bone, making me pull my thick winter jacket closer to my body, allowing it to protect me from the frosty blast. It whips through my hair causing it to hit my face with a wet slap of water and clumps of snow infested hair. It brings me back to reality. And then I see another me. She's stood behind a tree, why, I'm not sure. She carefully peer around the tree, as if she's awaiting some sort of attack. I ask her what's happening, why I can see myself like I'm watching from another person's point of view. But she ignores me, or she doesn't hear me. Either way my questions go unanswered.

Suddenly a perfectly symmetrical sphere of white hurtles past the other me and she lurches back. I then realize what the object is, a snowball, and it's flying right at me. It's too late to move, I know that, so instead I brace myself for them impact. My muscles clench involuntarily waiting for the arctic punch, but it never came. Instead I hear the muffled thump of it hitting the tree a few steps directly behind me. It passed straight through me. Confusion washes over me and I see the other me walk out from behind the tree, unsure of what else to do I follow her. She stops in the middle of a snowy clearing where she is met by four other figures. They begin to laugh and chat like their old friends, except I know for certain I don't know these people, or at least remember them. But then again, I don't remember anything.

I stand there for what seems like hours, just watching, learning. There are two other girls in the mystery group, one tall and willowy with delicate features placed on a heart shaped face accentuated by chestnut hair and hazel eyes obscured by thick glasses. She seems kind and intelligent, maybe slightly shy. The other, the complete opposite. Her short figure could only be described as petite, and she has an air of arrogance about her, even here as she sits with who appears to be her friends she holds her pointed chin at an angle that's too high to be comfortable. Her slightly rounded face is framed by an abundance of straight blonde hair and her mousey features are enhanced by the icy blue of her eyes.

After them there are two boys. One slightly lanky with curly brown hair and green eyes as vibrant as the grass in the summer. The next is very different, he stands slightly shorter but appears to have plenty of muscle built up beneath his winter layers, his hair is extremely short and seems to be dark blonde from where I'm standing, his light brown eyes dance with mischief as he looks upon the group.

As I watch them laugh and talk and recall old memories, I feel sick to my stomach. This is wrong. I don't remember this. I don't remember this place, I don't remember these people, and I don't remember any of it. It's horrifying to watch. It's like watching some kind of twisted movie I don't remember filming yet I'm the main character, it's like someone's took a video and edited me into it. To anyone passing by nothing would look out of the ordinary, except when I look, all I can see is how wrong it is. How much I don't belong there. And then I wake up.