Okay, here's the first chapter- I hope you guys enjoy it. I don't own anything that you recognize.


"History is, strictly speaking, the study of questions; the study of answers belongs to anthropology."

-W. H. Auden-

Returning home, I was now Dr. Rachel Black. I had received my PhD from UCLA in Anthropology, my degree focusing on physical anthropology, in the past year. In doing so, I had become the most educated resident La Push would soon have. I began to pull at the split ends of my hair, a habit my twin sister and I shared when frustration took over. I turned 22 in a week, along with Rebecca, and I felt like nothing in my life was going the way it should. I was once again back home, where I was a square peg, trying to fit in the round hole known as La Push. And as everyone knows, a round hole is the enemy of square peg.

I loved to learn, even as a small child. The word precocious seemed to be attached to my name. My mother, Sarah, made me believe that it was a good thing. She constantly catered to my millions of questions, and always answered them as best as she could. When she did not know the answer we walked to the small one room library La Push had to offer, which often lead to us driving to Fork's more updated library. Most parents wouldn't have had the patience to do all this but my mother always pushed education on us. She was one of the only people on the reservation who had a college degree, and she said it was her dream for her children to follow in her footsteps. She did not care what we did, as long as we were happy, but she always said a college degree could never hurt us, only help.

My mother was beautiful, and although I could not see it myself, everyone always commented on the striking resemblance Rebecca and I shared with her. My mother had all of the typical features of a Quileute, but the one feature that truly stood out on her was her eyes. Large, and a deep honey color, you could tell what my mother was thinking with one look into her eyes. That is why it hurt to look into the mirror every morning, because everyday I saw those eyes.

I quickly stopped thinking about my mother, focusing on the scenery, before the familiar ache which always came when thinking about my mother became to much to handle. I looked up to see Joe watching me through the rear view mirror. Joe had been the one person who was able to see through Connor's ways, and he was the one who had convinced me to leave. Joe was the one driver Connor had trusted to take me around, and to help me with anything and everything I asked for. Whenever I needed company or a friend, Joe was there beside me. Joe was nearing 40, and even with a slightly balding head, and belly from his wife's cooking he looked tough at first glance, but the crinkles around his eye gave away how much this man seemed to smile.

He had requested off a week ago, as to not raise suspicion, and was now driving me to the one place Connor would never find me. I had never told Connor or for that matter anyone where I was truly from. When asked I said a small town outside of Seattle, ashamed of the truth. I had come from a small Indian Reservation where the majority of the people didn't even know what my major was. I burned with shame when anyone had figured out that I was Native American, and rapidly fired racist questions about my heritage and asked to say words in my native tongue, even when I explained that my Quileute was more than a little rusty. I was not a proud Native like my family was, knowing the legends backwards and forwards, I instead only wished to blend in with the others I was surrounded with in college. It had come to the point where I had an explanation for everything in my life, even the reason for my exotic look (I was a mix of so many nationalities, it was hard to keep count).

Meeting Joe's eyes once more I was brought back to what I was doing. Everything about this trip had been prepared meticulously, and I had only taken clothes that would not give away where I was going. I snuck away while he was on location, but I knew right about now he would be tearing through the house in search of me. The thing is, Connor couldn't live without me, I knew that, but I had to try to live with out him, no matter how impossible that seemed.

We were nearing my family house, and I knew my father was more than excited to see me, and that excitement seemed to outweigh the confusion that came with my spontaneous visit. I gave no explanation except that I missed my family and was ready to come home. My father cried on the phone, and that was what truly sealed the deal to my escape. My sister Rebecca was in Hawaii with her husband, and recently born child that Connor did not let me see, saying he could not bear to be without me for even a day, but she planned to make a special visit to La Push soon, hoping that Id be there when she came.

Pulling in front of the house I had grown to love, then grown to hate, I was scared. Scared of what my family would think. Scared if my brother would even talk to me, birthday and Christmas gifts didn't seem to have the same meaning as phone calls and visits. Scared that Connor would find me. Scared that I wouldn't be able to reconnect with anyone. And scared that all the heartache and wrongs in my life would swallow me up whole, the way it always seemed to do when I was home.


So I hope you guys enjoyed that, please review & let me know if I should keep going. The second chapters almost done, so if you guys liked it, I'll post it up in the next day or two.

Thanks again, Kate (: