I do not own any of Stephenie Meyer's Twilight characters, settings, etc. Also, I don't own Volvo. Lol.

Knock. Knock. "Open up!" Knock. Knock. Knock. "Don't make us break the door open, Renee!"

Cries. Shouts. Threats. Begging. Yelling.

Sadness…anger…

I closed my eyes as the tears streamed down like the Nile River. My mother and I were facing the front door as the police crashed on the door.

"All right, we warned you, Renee!"

Suddenly, the door was broken open, the wood smashed in pieces and flying through the air. Many uniformed policemen flooded into the front room of the house. They went to me first, and then to my mom, grabbing us each.

"Mom!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. I tried struggling, but my weak, ten-year old body didn't help. They took me out of the house and out onto the front yard. Police cars surrounded us, and some neighbors had come out to see what the commotion was.

"Bella! Give me my daughter!" my mom screamed from the threshold in the front of the house. I looked at her, my lip quivering. The officer holding me picked me up and slung me over his shoulder.

"Mom!"

The scream echoed throughout the block, the town, the world.

The police officer typed in where we were going into his GPS. He was very impressed with himself that he had one, he was talking to the officer next to him about it. I sat in the back, trying to stop crying, but I couldn't. My mother was being questioned now, and told where I was going.

"Now will you tell me what happened to her?" the officer sitting in the passenger seat asked. He was young; maybe just 18 still. "You said you'd tell me later today."

They thought I couldn't hear them. I didn't say anything; I wanted to see what he'd tell him.

"The father was an alcoholic. Abused them. Her mother wasn't taking enough care of her. Didn't you see the shape the house was in?"

I remembered my father, who had just been taken to jail only a few weeks ago. I shivered.

"Oh," the younger officer said.

"How you doing back there?" the officer asked, looking through the rearview mirror at me. I looked up at him solemnly but didn't say anything.

"Cold shoulder," the younger officer muttered. Did they think 10-year-olds had horrible hearing or something?

We pulled into a long driveway, leading to a huge house. I looked through the window in awe, at the almost mansion in front of me. Even just the wooden porch must have been the size of my house, or almost that.

The officer parked in front of the house and turned to me.

"The people here are very nice," he told me, smiling. "They're going to take care of you for awhile. They're friends of your mom. Do you understand?"

"Yes." I said quietly.

"You've known for awhile now we were going to take you away from home. You should be ready now, Isabella."

Bella. My name is Bella.

The officer driving and I got out of the car. He tried to hold my hand, but I refused. Instead, I walked behind him, debating whether or not to run away. If I ran away, I could go to my mom, and live with her. I didn't see what was wrong with her; sure, she didn't have the greatest job, sure we didn't live in the nicest home, but she still loved me. Didn't that count for anything?

"Come on," the officer told me from up the stairs of the porch. I'd been standing on the ground, looking around me.

I blinked twice and then went up the stairs as he rang the doorbell. The younger officer was in the car, waiting.

A woman, maybe in her 30s, looked down at me and smiled. Her hair was a light brown, with some blonde streaks. Next to her stood a man, around the same age as her, with blonde hair and a pale face. He smiled as well.

"Good afternoon." The officer said. "This is Isabella Swan."

"Hello, Isabella. I've only seen you once, when you were a little girl. Your mother and I haven't seen each other in so long." The woman said to me, smiling warmly. I looked up at her.

"Isabella," the officer said to me, "this is Esme and Carlisle Cullen. You're going to be living with them, like I told you."

I looked at both of their welcoming faces, but did not say, "hi." I didn't want to speak to them; I wanted to be with my mom.

The officer looked away from me and at the Cullen's. "Well, I'll call up on you all to check on everything once in awhile. Her luggage and everything should be brought here soon. Had to take her from the home by force." He said the word force quietly, like I couldn't hear. Again, they thought I couldn't hear well.

"Oh, you poor thing," Esme said, now frowning. She held a hand out to me, welcoming me into their home. I did not accept the offer, though. I just followed her into the large house once the officer said goodbye to me.

Everything was so strange, so alien-like. I walked uneasily through the living room and into the kitchen, where the rest of the Cullen family was.

"Everyone," Esme said, a smile still plastered on her face, "this is Isabella. She's going to be staying here for awhile."

I looked around at everyone. There were some young kids, some older.

"This is Rosalie," Esme said, pointing at a blonde. She was very pretty, but also looked kind of stuck-up. Something about the way she looked at me like I was garbage made me think that. "She's 16." Esme added.

"That's Emmett." Carlisle told me, pointing to a dark haired guy. He was big, full of muscles, and tall. He grinned in a friendly way at me. "He's 17."

"And Jasper--he's 16. He and Rosalie are twins." Esme said. Jasper had longer hair, which was a light color. He was not as big as Emmett; his face looked blank and somewhat scared.

"And Alice," Carlisle said after his cue to introduce the next person. Alice was short--a little taller than I--and had short, brown hair. "She's 15."

"And, last but not least," Esme laughed, "Edward. He's 11."

I looked at Edward, the youngest child in their family. He had bronze hair and green eyes. He looked at me dully. He was still good-looking.

All of the children in that family had Carlisle's skin; pale. I, too, was pale, so I felt almost like part of their family. But, I knew, I never would be.

"Edward, would you like to show her to her room?"

"Fine." Edward replied, and he looked at me. "Follow me."

I followed him obediently, but once we were at the doorframe between the living room and kitchen, I turned to the rest of the Cullen's. "I like to be called Bella." I said quietly.

They looked at each other awkwardly. "Oh, I'm sorry, Bella." Esme finally said.

I nodded and then followed Edward up the grand stair case, filled with paintings and antiques. My home had never been this nice, not even before we moved here to Forks together.

"This is your room," Edward said once we were in front of a white wooden door. "You can unpack." He didn't smile nor frown; he just stared blankly, uncaringly.

Looked like he liked me a lot.

I smiled and said, "Thanks." He left me there, alone, to walk inside and then shut the door behind me. What had once been my bed on the right side was now the dresser. What had once been the closet in the front was the bed. It was all very confusing.

Edward hadn't realized my bags weren't here yet, I'd come empty handed. I sat on the freshly made bed and looked down at my arms. Scars from my father were there, bright as day. There were scars everywhere, and my mother had them, too. Everyone who lived around us, did. Actually, the neighbors that still stayed there had them. A lot moved to get away from my own father.

Charlie Swan, the once chief of police, had become an alcoholic, gone crazy, and started abusing everyone around him. Mostly my mother and I, since we were under the same roof and he could get to us faster.

I looked at the dresser; the unbroken glass of the mirror above it was new. I remembered that one winter day, shivering.

"Bella!" he roared. "Open the door!"

Without letting me answer, he crashed the door down by kicking it. He looked at me, teeth clenched, fists ready, and stomped over to me. He'd just gotten home, and he had obviously been drinking and doing some time of drug, perhaps. He stood over me, and I was helpless. I didn't say anything; last time I'd said something I'd gotten brutally hurt. My mom was in her room, crying over something new. There was no one to help me.

He grabbed me by the hair and pulled me toward my mahogany dresser, with the big mirror above it. He still held my hair, and talked to me by looking through the mirror's reflection.

"Just look at you!" he grumbled. "You're so--so hideous! Just like your mother. Look at yourself!"

I did look; my eyes were red and had tears pouring out of them, and my face was paler than ever. My hair was being ripped out by the roots, it felt.

"Look!" he shouted again, except I was not expected to look--instead, he flung my head back and then into the mirror, sending the glass either in my forehead or to the ground around me, shattering loudly next to my ears. I screamed, but the noise was flooded out by the glass falling.

I touched my forehead, where the stitches lie.

"Bella, could you come downstairs?" Esme called. "We'd like to get to know you more!"

This was the start of meeting the Cullen's, whom I'd live with for the next couple of years.

Should I continue? Let me know! I have another chapter, but I wanted to know what everyone thought, first. If not, I'm just gonna delete it, I guess.