I want to start off by saying that I own nothing, and that everything belongs to Stephanie Meyer (Which we ALL already knew)
Please know that this story will be in Bella's point of view unless otherwise noted in the author's note beforehand.
Fair warning that this story will have mild hints at child abuse in the beginning (Bella's father takes his anger out on her after her mother passed away) Please know that there will be no graphic detail and won't last for very long.
Now enough of introductory business, here is chapter 1 of Quest for the Cure
September 8, 1926 Forks, Washington
There was just little under a week until I would be old enough to finally be able to be rid of my father. He is a very short-tempered, angry man; even more so after my mother passed away after suffering for nearly a year with a long-term illness. We couldn't afford any of those fancy doctor's in the city, but mother managed to get some short-term help from our local doctor.
My father took my mother's passing the hardest; he took to the bottle to the point that he had lost his job down at the lumber mill. I know that my father is trying to grieve in his own way; I just wished that he didn't take his frustrations out on me.
At first I tried to fight back and reason with my father, but as time went on I've just grown to remain silent; he seems to finish quicker that way. No one in town seems to know, and if they do they aren't saying; at least around me they aren't, which says much more than the typical gossip.
The other kids at school tend to ignore me and I personally like it that way. It saves me from having to explain my living situation at home, and from them finding out that my father is drunkard.
I had gotten up extra early today to put my outfit together for school. I take extra time so that I can find which of my dresses can conceal my bruises from the previous night best.
I decided to go with the dress my mother had made for me and gave to me as a Christmas present. It was one of the few things that I have of my mother's; that and her necklace that her mother, my grandmother, had given to her. To others this necklace would seem like a simple, plain, golden chain, but to me this was a symbol of my mother.
"Bella, 'you gonna bother fixing breakfast or not?!" My father bellowed from the front of the house. I took a few calming breaths and finished getting myself ready.
I managed to disguise the bruises fairly well with some of the leftover powdered foundation I had gotten as a present from the local mercantile owner's wife. She was one of the very few that new who my father was behind closed doors. She had found out by accident when she came by the house when I failed to show up at school one day. See, her daughter is the same age as I am, and well word gets around in a small town like Forks.
As per usual my father was in a drunken stupor in his favorite chair. I let out a short breath and began to fix his breakfast. I have to make sure that everything he has is to his liking, because let's just say that I would have to and add more powder to cover up yet another contusion.
When I finished making his eggs and toast I made sure to pour from his favorite bottle of bourbon and fill a glass that came to just above my middle and index fingers.
"It's about time you got around to fixing breakfast you insolent child!" This was finished with a sharp smack to my cheek. Thanks to his weakened state his strike would just leave me with a red handprint on my cheek for a few minutes. As if God were answering my prayers it had finally come time for me to go to school.
But then school wasn't that much better than being at home. School was my oasis, it was a place that I could be ignored by everyone rather than being at home where I was a constant punch bag.
I quickly gathered my books and quietly hurried out of the house and off to school before I was going to be late yet again. I'm pretty sure that Ms. Stanley would've liked to lock me out of the schoolhouse when that would happen, but thankfully she was always pretty lenient with me and allowed me to come in and take my seat.
The time had seemed to go by rather too slowly for my liking today. I was grateful that Ms. Stanley didn't even bother to call on me to answer any questions about the previous night's lessons. It wasn't that I hadn't bothered to do the work; it was that I had to run and hide from my father. He had finished off the bottle of bourbon and decided to give me 'a much needed punishment'.
What I had done to warrant his brand of punishment; I hadn't a clue.
When the school bell rang signaling that it was time for all of us to start making our way home, Ms. Stanley had asked me to remain behind as the other kids emptied out as if the building were on fire.
"Bella, this is the fifth time this month you've nearly been late to school. Is there a reason for your tardiness?" My school teacher said as she took a seat at the desk next to mine. "Miss Dawson, you realize that I don't have to let you squeak in and look the other way. I like to give my students the benefit of the doubt, but you're making it very difficult for me to remain sympathetic."
I let out a long sigh and nodded my head. I told her that I understood and that I would make more of an effort to leave earlier to make sure that I wasn't late for school anymore.
Ms. Stanley seemed to believe that I was being sincere in my apology, either that or she was just wanting to hurry things along so that she could hurry off and meet up with Michael Newton, Forks own Deputy sheriff. Ms. Stanley and Mr. Newton thought that they were being discrete about their affections, but anyone with a pair of eyes could see how the they felt about each other. I gathered my books and trudged slowly towards the door. Just as I was about to walk through the front door I walked into a hard object and nearly fell back on my bottom, but thankfully two firm hands steadied me before I was even able to fall back.
"Whoa, sorry about that ma'am I should've been looking where I was going." My gaze turned upward and who did I see; it was none other than Deputy Newton himself. I managed to hide the smirk that had threatened to creep onto my face. I'm pretty sure that he was going to go visit with Ms. Stanley.
I rolled my eyes and continued on my way home. I managed to smile at the kids who were just being nice to me and asking if I wanted to hang out with them. I knew the truth thought; they were probably told by their parents to try to make an effort to get me to spend time with the children who were around my own age. But I knew that they were only doing so because they were either bribed or blackmailed into doing so.
Thankfully I had gotten to the road to my house, which was a fairly wooded area, and decided to take my time getting home. I was more than sure that when I got home my father would either be home and passed out in the chair, or he wouldn't be home at all. When he wasn't at home he was either out at the local pub or he was working "late" at the lumber mill; at least that what he was telling me, but the obvious aroma of alcohol on his clothes and breath said otherwise.
When I rounded the corner, I saw that his truck wasn't parked up by the house, which to any normal person this would be a sign that he wasn't home, but with my father that wasn't always the case.
I carefully opened the door to our quaint two bedroom cottage-like house and paused for a moment when I heard the door creak open rather loudly. I paused for a moment to be sure that if he was home that I wake him up. I had learned fairly quickly to come in the house quietly otherwise I would've gotten yet another 'punishment' for waking him up. Part of me wished that I would've just run away the first time my father laid a hand on me, but I couldn't bring myself to leave him to fend for himself. My mother had raised me to see the good in everyone, even if that particular person was the meanest person on the face on the earth.
I laid my books quietly on the table and looked around to make sure that my father wasn't home, because I had to clean the dishes, and even something so little would make enough noise to upset my father. I was thankful that he truly wasn't home and I proceeded to start washing the dishes.
Time seemed to fly by once I was home, because before I knew it, it was already time to get ready for bed. I changed into my nightgown and got ready for bed.
Sleep seemed to come rather easy for me tonight, the fact that he wouldn't be home until much later may have had something to do with the fact that my father still hadn't come home yet. My muscles were just starting to relax when there was a loud crash that startled me awake. I was just about to go find the source of the commotion when I was tackled back onto my bed. I tried my hardest to scream out for help, but the assailant had me by the neck; making my attempts to cry out for help futile.
"You good for nothing girl, you're the reason that my wife is dead!"
Oh my god, it was my father that had me by the throat. Why was he blaming me for my mother's death? He must think that because my mother had decided against the treatment to help her illness that it was my fault somehow.
I desperately tried to apologize to him, but all that managed to come out were strangled gasps of breath. My strangled breaths seemed to only fuel my father's rage all the more and he tightened his grip on me causing my vision to start to blur around the edges. I desperately clawed at my father's arms to try and get him to loosen his hold on my throat.
As he tightened his grip I was starting to panic.
Was this the day that I had feared would come; dying at the hands of my father?
In a last ditch attempt at freedom I managed to get a good angle on my father and kicked my knee hard against his groin, and I immediately felt my lungs open for much needed air. I took off without looking back and made a break for the back door out of the house. I had just reached the screen door, which was my last barrier towards freedom, when I felt a sharp sting of pain racing down up and down my spine. I felt myself collapse on the kitchen floor and could taste a rust-like substance in my mouth.
Blood.
I had been stabbed in the back with some sort of kitchen knife. Tears started pouring from my eyes as I feared that this would be my demise, I would die at the hand of my father, and no one would ever know the truth.
My eyes widened in fear when I saw the glint of the metal knife, and as my vision traveled from the knife to the arm that was holding it; my father was holding the knife.
He had the knife directed directly over my chest. My eyes widened and I begged and pleaded for him to have mercy and let me live. I could feel my body shaking from the sobs that were coming from me at this very moment.
With no warning the knife came down swiftly and passed through the skin and punctured my chest. All the air left my body as I gasped from the sudden earth-shattering pain that wracked my body at this very moment. It became harder and harder for me to catch my breath and I could feel myself slipping from consciousness.
Before my eyes would close, for what seemed the last time, I saw a dark blur come colliding with my father knocking him clear across the room. I heard what sounded like growling and screaming, but it was growing increasingly harder and harder to remain conscious and aware. Soon I felt my eyes droop closed, and as my consciousness slipped further and further away I felt another sharp pain surge through my body, but I hadn't the strength to fight back.
If this was what dying felt like, I hoped that my suffering would end soon.
A/N: And there you have it; the first chapter of this story. I hope you all enjoy this amazing ride we will be taking, and I am constantly researching all the possible monsters and creatures our trio will be facing later on in the story.
Please be sure to review and let me know what you think!