A/N:OK so this is the first actual chapter and it's fresh of the beta'ing roll so read it while it's hot.

If you wanna read the rest of the story, unbeta'ed you can head over at

http:/www(.)twcslibrary(.)com/viewstory(.)php?sid=1274

where you will find not only the first 5 chapters of the story but also the Banners for the story , characters, villain ( of which you got a quick foreshadowing in the prologue just as Bella was cursing at him) and each chapter but also links for the outfits which Marianne Northman Cullen has so graciously offered to make for me.

http:/www(.)polyvore(.)com/bella/set?id=17066093

And don't forget to REVIEW.

.:CHAPTER 1:.

I'm sorry, mama. I never meant to hurt you...

I was slowly swirling my fingers around the small bud of the red rose. Under the influence of the lithe static electricity, I could feel tingling in my fingertips. The flower was slowly unraveling, blooming to show me its true form. The velvety crimson petals were growing, slowly separating, and unleashing the scent of the aromatic oils trapped within them. I continued to play with the rose; it had lived a strained life in the small pot my mother had imprisoned it in. The nutrients it drew from the sandy soil never allowed it to bloom to its full potential. So, whenever I was alone, I would play my innocent game to get a glimpse of what it would look like in my grandmother's garden back home. Back in Forks.

I was slowly returning it to its original state of bloom when I heard the front door open and close. They're home early.I gasped and tried to hurry the process, even though I knew there was no use. I knew my mother would see what I had been doing - see me at the kitchen table with the small terracotta pot in front of me and there was nothing I could do about it.

Her high pitched scream sliced through the silence that reigned in between the four ivory colored walls.

"Isabella Marie Swan. What the hell do you think you're doing? I thought I told you to never pull this shit on me ever again!" Her loud shriek pierced through my state of tranquility, but the sting of her voice was nothing compared to the sting of her cold hand on my cheek. Okay, I sure didn't see that one coming. The slap made me lose my already precarious balance and I soon found myself on the floor by her feet, heavy waves of pain welling behind my bewildered eyes. I looked up into the face of the one that gave me life, searching for any feeling that might have shown me that, somewhere behind her hateful gaze, there was still a little bit of love or care left for me. I found nothing but shame. Only she wasn't ashamed of herself for hitting me, but of me for being a freak, as she so often called me.

Her dead eyes kept me frozen on the ground, unable to escape. The noise of the door opening as my dad came in distracted her. I took my chance to scramble in the corner of the kitchen, hugging my knees and lowering my chin to my chest to hide my face.

"What's going on here?" my father asked with a frown as he entered the small kitchen and saw me.

"She's doing it again, Charlie. She's doing it after I specifically told her never to again!" She directed her tirade towards him.

"Mom, I just..."

"Renee, stop it!" He grabbed her wrist before she could strike again.

"I can't believe you hit her! What's wrong with you? I've explained this to you time and time again, there's nothing you can do to stop this," he told her in a stern voice as he let go of her hand. I felt him kneel beside me and envelop me in his arms, trying to lift me up.

"The hell there isn't! I told you I won't stand aside and let her turn into a freak like that crazy mother of yours. I won't lose my only child to some stupid mambo-jumbo like this. This…This curse that hangs upon your family will not be the ghost which haunts my daughter. She…She has to be normal…" My mother rambled on in her state of insanity.

I lifted my eyes to my father's and saw all the love he held for me. The comfort of his arms gave me the power to keep going, despite my mother's behavior. He looked at me with such tenderness, and in such an apologetic manner, that I couldn't help myself but get lost in him, distancing myself from the real world in which my mother was my worst enemy and I was the freak.

My bubble was so fragile that a gasp was enough to burst it, as if it were made of soap.

"What did you say?" my dad asked with a growl.

"I said, I'd rather kill her myself than let her become some kind of possessed monster," she said with defiance.

Tears began streaming down my face, leaving their salty tracks on my cheeks. I disentangled myself from my father's protective hold and ran upstairs. I could still hear her yelling behind me.

"Don't you dare leave when I'm speaking to you, you little brat." That was the last thing my mother told me.

I locked the door and pulled out an old suitcase from under my bed – the same one I had used when we first moved here in the middle of this godforsaken desert, where nothing was green because of the scorching sun.

I grabbed my clothes and dropped them in it, then scanned the room for anything else I might need. I quickly threw in my iPod, along with all of my documents; my birth certificate, my ID, and the paperwork I'd gotten a few weeks earlier from my old high school, allowing me to transfer to the one in Forks. I added a framed photo of me and dad, and the plane ticket I'd bought with most of my savings, finally stuffing the rest of the five dollar bills into my pocket. I realized, dragging my fingertips across the hundreds of books that rested on my shelves, that I couldn't take more than ten with me, because I only had that one suitcase and it was already half full. I decided to take a few of my beloved classics. I slowly pulled the worn volumes off the shelves and placed them in the suitcase before closing it. Taking the chain from around my neck, I separated the little silver key from the other pendants I had on it and locked my suitcase. My fingers skimmed over the antique round locket, opening it. The hands of the clock hidden inside seemed to mock me; they showed that only fifteen minutes had passed since I had entered my bedroom, even though to me it had felt like a lifetime. I gently placed the chain around my neck again and rubbed my eyes, willing the tears to stop.

I knew my dad still loved my mother. That's why I had forgiven him for letting her torment me ever since the first time I had used my powers, unknowingly triggering this entire mess with my stupid desire to do things my way.

Being a devoted Christian, my mother believed that my powers were the manifestation of the control the Demon held on me. In other words, she truly thought that I was possessed. Once she even took me to be exorcised without my father's knowledge.

Most of the years after we moved to St. Johns were spent enduring her attempts to drive the demons away from my soul.

I closed my eyes and rested my head on the pillow, trying to block the shouts coming from downstairs. I had a feeling this was coming, the moment in which I would no longer be able to live under the same roof as my mother, and her threat was just the straw that broke the camel's back. I had bought the plane ticket just days before when I had first noticed the fights were getting more and more frequent. I hated myself for being the reason behind my parents' constant fights.

As I drifted off to sleep, a single thought crossed my mind,just six more hours in Hell.

A loud, impatient knock on my door woke me up. I hadn't expected anyone to come check on me before I left. The suitcase was in plain sight and I knew that if my parent saw it they would prevent me from leaving, so I grabbed it and opened my window to make my escape.

Another knock came, followed by someone trying to force open the door, and I quickly shoved the suitcase under the bed.

"Bells, please, open the door." Charlie's shushed, broken plea stopped me dead in my tracks. He sounded so tired and sad.

I slowly unlocked the door and sat on the edge of the bed. He crouched in front of me and averted his gaze towards the floor.

"It's over, Bella." His voice was so spent that I almost didn't hear it.

My eyes grew wide as I tried to understand what he was saying.

"Dad, I promise I won't do it ever again. I just...I just didn't think you'd come home early and, and..."

"You don't understand - we're leaving. You and me. I can't allow your mother to keep hurting you like this. I thought I could make this work because I love her, Bells, but tonight I realized that the Renee I love is long gone."

"I'm so sorry, Dad. This is all my fault. If only I wouldn't be like this she would still be..."

"No, she wouldn't… She, she tried to kill me Bella… After you ran upstairs, she wanted to come after you, but I stopped her so she grabbed a knife and tried to kill me..."

I pulled back and for the first time since he had entered the room I really looked at my father. His face seemed to hold the all pain in the world; the mask of happiness shed, he now wore a grimace that spoke of regret and guilt.

"Dad, how long did I sleep? Where is she? Did she hurt you?" The questions grew frantic on my lips as he lifted his glistening eyes towards me.

"Damn it, Dad, say something!"

"I'm okay. We fought and she cut herself. I called an ambulance and took her to the hospital. She's okay, but she had another breakdown and the doctors said she has to be seen by a psychiatrist."

"What did the shrink say?"

"I don't know. I had to leave the room so they could talk in private. I told them that I was coming back home to check on you, because you were alone and didn't know what happened. I left my number with the doctor and he said he would call me once her examination is done," he said.

I looked at the clock my nightstand. It was four in the morning. I had slept for eight hours and probably missed my flight.

Just then my dad's ringtone reverberated through the silent room.

"It's probably someone from the hospital," he said before answering.

The almost inaudible conversation was easy to tune out. Nothing was easier for me lately than to ignore what was happening around me.

A hand on my shoulder became the lifeline that brought me back to reality.

"What did he say?" I asked, afraid of the answer, afraid that she would come back to get her revenge when no one was looking.

"He, the psychiatrist, said she has some sort of psychotic disorder. She had another episode just before they called. The doctor thinks it would be best if she were under constant care and recommended a few places after I told him we would be moving and wanted to have her near. I agreed for them to take her away to a specialized facility in upstate Washington. Some place called the Whatcom Counseling and Psychiatric Clinic in Bellingham. She'll be well looked after there. I just have to go to the hospital and sign the paperwork."

"That's good, right? I mean, it's good that she'll be well taken care of."

"It is."

"What do we do now?"

"I'm gonna go sign the paperwork and then I'm taking you to your Grandma's. After I drop you off, I'm coming back to sell the house. Pack light, I'm gonna bring the rest of your stuff when I come back," he stated, getting up and going towards the door.

"I'm already packed," I said, grabbing the suitcase from where I had hidden it earlier.

"What? Why?"

"I was going to leave. I didn't want to be the cause of all of your fights," I told him sitting down on my bed again. "I've actually been thinking about moving back to Forks for a few weeks now. I bought a plane ticket and asked for a transfer from my high school to the one in Forks. I sent the majority of the paperwork a few days ago. I'm sorry, Dad, but I couldn't tell you. You would've tried to stop me and I just couldn't take it anymore," I added as a fresh wave of tears broke loose.

He sat on the bed beside me and awkwardly wrapped his arms around me as I ducked my head under his chin.

"I'm so sorry, Bells. I tried to do my best for you. I guess it just wasn't good enough." His words lingered in the cold morning air.

My dad wasn't one for expressing his feelings, so his next words stunned me.

"You know I love you, right, Pumpkin?" he asked holding me tighter.

"Yeah, Dad, I know." I nodded in his chest.

Everything after that passed by me in a blur.

After he came back from the hospital, I helped him pack a few things and he gave me some empty boxes to put my books in. We quickly loaded all of our baggage in the trunk of his old red Chevy truck, and then I went inside to see if I had forgotten anything. I looked around the living room and then went upstairs to my bedroom.

As I was coming downstairs, I remembered the small terracotta pot with my rose and decided that if I was going home, then it was coming with me. I entered the kitchen, trying to keep what had happened there just a few hours before, out of my mind. The pot wasn't on the table anymore. Someone, probably Dad, had moved it to the shelf on the opposite side of the room in front of a framed picture. I crossed the room and picked it up. In my hurry, I nudged the picture frame and it fell to the floor.

I dropped to my knees and turned it face up. The glass was shattered, and from behind it, two smiling faces were staring back at me. Mom and I.

As I remembered when the photo had been taken, a new wave of guilt washed over me. It was my tenth birthday, the day I first used my powers. The last time my mother told me she loved me.

"Bella, come on! Hurry up," Dad called from outside.

"I'm coming!" I called back, dropping the frame to the ground and hurrying to leave.

I got in the truck, shutting the door behind me.

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

I looked back to the house and clutched the pot tighter to my chest.

Bye, Mom.