Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or any of the characters.

Beta: SomeStrangeDay

Time is my worst enemyBecause I can't save all my Time, please be kind to me'Cause the life I'm living is dying all too quickly.

Miranda never let me call her anything other than Miranda. She always said that names like "Mother", "Mommy", "Momma" or anything to do with mothering was too much for her. She insisted on the two of us being nothing more than acquaintances, and she wanted us never to show any affection toward one another. After all, that's what acquaintances naturally did. Even though I never saw any of the other children on our Reservation in the Rocky Mountains treat their female carriers like this, I did not question Miranda. She knew best, so I went on living my life without having a true "Mother".

By the age of four I sounded, looked, and acted like a thirteen year old girl. My body was able to grow at a rapid pace, and I wasn't allowed to go to school because of it. Miranda taught me basic math, reading and writing, but I always wanted to learn more. So, when I was about a year old, I started reading books I found in our small house. I learned so much from the words on the crisp pages I adored that Miranda even started bringing me new books from a place called the library. In these books I found motherly figures within the heroin, and at night I would imagine them tucking me into my small bed, kissing me on the cheek and telling me that they loved me. I was so consumed in my new fairytale world that when I tuned four it took my months to finally notice that Miranda was with child.

When Claire was born I was expecting the same treatment that Miranda gave me my whole life, but, instead of the rejection I'd faced in my short life, she showed Claire love and kindness. At first I was so infuriated and disgusted that I locked myself in my room for weeks on end. I refused to eat, drink, or even listen to Miranda's pleas for help with the infant. How could she do this to me?! She had never once showed any affection toward me in my life, and now a child comes along that she adores with no strings attached; why would I want to be around that?

Eventually I crawled out of my room, and snuck into the infant's room. She was sound asleep in her little pink crib and looked so peaceful. I couldn't help but smile to myself, and I stroked her soft, naturally tan face with my olive colored hand. She seemed to smile at the contact, and I felt a bizarrely fuzzy feeling in my chest. It felt so warm and beautiful, like a flower had just bloomed in my heart and soul. For the first time in my life I actually felt love, and I had someone to share it with and perhaps someone who could one day love me back.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" I jumped at the sound of the voice I'd only heard a few times, ever. I turned around to see Miranda standing in the doorway looking at me with a small smile on her face. She gracefully made her way over to where I was standing and looked at me with her black eyes. She gently stroked my dark hair, looking me up and down as if to inspect me. I went stiff as she touched me so tenderly; never once in our relationship had she ever done this, so it was very odd for me to see this side of her.

"You have your father's eyes and his mouth. I didn't love him Lillian, but I was happy when I had you. Don't forget that," she whispered, her smile faltering a little bit. I didn't know how to reply to this. She had never mentioned my "sperm donor" before, and so I was left with the thought of her just shacking up a random stranger to create me. Never once did I think that my parents were in love, or that she even remembered what he looked like. I just that he'd paid her, as crude as that sounded, and I was simply an accident and a burden to carry.

I just nodded my head and looked back at my baby sister. As if that was her cue, Miranda put her hand back down to her side and left the room to go back to sleep with her new boyfriend. I, on the other hand, stared at Claire sleeping until I myself was fast asleep on the floor.

Two more years passed by until I finally turned six. My body looked to be eighteen, and I was kind of happy with the results. My dark brown hair had fallen past the small of my back to where it needed to be cared for a little bit more than usual. My skin tanned just a little, but it was still paler than most people. Definitely paler than everyone else on the Res. My eyes had become a gray-blue over the years, but they were probably my favorite feature on my face besides my mouth. I had a Cupid's bow lips with a large bottom lip, and whenever I smiled it looked crooked like I was pouting. I had come out pretty attractive all in all, but I was not like the other girls on the Reservation. They had pretty features that would make them stick out from the rest, but my reflection showed no flaws. I didn't complain about it, of course but, deep down I knew I just wanted to look and be a normal girl.

Claire was two years old when I reached the peek of my young-womanhood, and she had turn out to be the best little sister I could have hoped for. Every morning she would run into my room, dance at the edge of my bed while singing some random song she made up, and when I finally woke up from my endless dream she would plant a kiss on my cheek. This was our routine that began my day of chores, and it always woke me up in a happier mood.

Since Miranda had started dating Mark, Claire's father, things around the house had become a little different. Mark had convinced Miranda to take a job at the Reservation's private school, which she was surprisingly amazing at, but since she wasn't home until later in the day I had to take care of household. My day generally consisted of feeding Claire, washing the dishes, playing with Claire, which was really no chore at all, laying her down for her nap, cleaning my room, fixing lunch, and once Miranda got home for her late lunch the rest of the day was mine, for the most part. Mark tended to get home late, but he always tried to help me with any other chores Miranda was too tired to do. By the time the moon rose my body was ready to sleep forever, but every morning like clockwork I was woken up by a sloppy wet kiss. It always made my life a little bit better.

Mark was really something special. He wasn't like a father to me, which both of us were perfectly fine with, but he was nice company. Mark was a nurse for the local hospital which caused his generally ridiculous hours, but none of us seemed to mind. By the time Mark got home, Miranda would usually be asleep in their bed, Claire would be tucked into her little one, and I would usually be cleaning up after dinner or reading a book in the living room. I would hand him a cup of tea and let him tell me stories of the latest surgery while we both did his dirty laundry or folded the clean towels that were left out by Miranda. These were simple things that made us closer, and they helped me make a new friend.

Claire was only three when the accident happened. It was a pouring outside, and I was reading while Claire slept in her room. I had just gotten to a really good part in my book when the phone rang from beside me. We didn't get many calls, and the only relatives Miranda had that I knew of were some people in Forks who didn't call much anyways, especially so late in the night. I reached for the phone, looking at the caller I.D.

Police Department360 – 435 – 8674

My heart skipped a beat. Miranda and Mark were out having dinner for their one year anniversary. They were supposed to be eating fancy French finger foods, a violinist distracting Miranda from looking at Mark pulling out a ring, and then he was supposed to ask the most important question in their lives. I was supposed to relax and be happy for them while this love fest was happening. I was not supposed to be answering a call from the police! Barely keeping myself from panicking, I answered the phone.

"This is the Young residency."

"Yes, is this Lillian Young?" asked the lady on the other side. I felt kind of weird at the thought of my last name. Miranda and I were more friends at this time, not mother and daughter.

"Yes, this is she."

"Lillian, are sitting down?"

"Yes, I am," my voice shook a little at the thought of what this could mean.

"Lillian, your mother and father have been in a car accident. It was raining hard, and the rode was dangerous. They didn't not survive Lillian," the woman paused, sounding so cool and calm, before continuing. "I need to know if you have any relatives to go to." I wanted to scream and cry, but instead of that I forced myself to answer her question.

"We do have some relatives up near Forks, Washington. My Aunt Emily and her fiancée Sam Uley," I speaking so fast I wasn't sure she could catch every slurred word. She told me that Social Services were going to pick up Claire and I in the morning. When I asked if I could see the bodies, she told me the last thing I would have ever expected, and it knocked the breath out of me.

"Lillian, there were no remains. I'm sorry for your loss," and with that she hung up.

This was the beginning of my journey, even if I didn't know it at the time. I was so not amused.