Well, here is chapter 2.

The year that the last chapter took place in was 1999. And... well, yeah. Any questions--such as if you're confused about something--and I will gladly answer them. If you want to ask me about what happenes in the next chapter and the chapter after that... Well... I won't tell you. You'll have to read and wait, now won't you?

Enjoy!

Tuesday, August 21st, 2005

Dear Diary,

Tomorrow it will have been six years since I've last made contact with anyone I once knew, along with the six year anniversary of my mom's death. And then, Tuesday is my thirteenth birthday. Not that anyone will ever care about it. These men have probably wanted me dead since they kidnapped me, but would my dad let them? Of course not.

I still can't believe the bastard of a dad actually kidnapped his own daughter, and killed his ex-wife. I can't believe him. I don't even know where we are right now. Last I remember, we were in Phoenix, but now we're back on the road; the UHAUL truck is right behind us. I hate the houses we end up in; where the hell does he get all his stupid money, anyways? Why didn't my mom get any for child support?

But who knows where we're going next? Certainly not me. I would ask one of the big guys—probably Kevin—if I knew they wouldn't send evil glares my way, huff, and then look back out the van window.

That's right. We have a black van; the ones like the FBI have on TV and all that shit? I feel ridiculous in this van every fucking time I step inside of it.

The more I think back to the day my mom was murdered, the stupider I feel for not turning around and running away. But where would I have gone? I knew my body would not let me turn around and leave, knowing there was a possibility that my mom had been in danger, even though my mind had screamed and yelled and mentally kicked me in the ass to turn around and run. Why didn't I just leave?

Oh, dad says we've arrived at our destination. I wonder if they start school soon, even though we'll probably leave next year. Why we move around so much, I don't know. Maybe it's because dad is wanted for the murder of my mother. It's been six years since; I don't know why we're still running. It doesn't make us very inconspicuous.

Dad's yelling at me to stop writing and come take a look outside; 'it's our home, sweetie,' he says. I want to yell, 'don't call me sweetie! You lost that privilege when you left us without any warning and came back three years later to kill mom and kidnap me!' but I know that I will be punished for saying such things.

I guess I'll write more later.

Love,

Isabella

I put my diary in my bag before throwing it over my shoulder and climbing out from the backseat of the van; I liked my privacy. Once I stepped out, a soft breeze hit my face and I took a deep breath; after being locked in a van with five guys over the age of thirty for almost seven hours, with only three or four bathroom stops tops, I needed the fresh air.

I looked around for a minute before turning to my 'dad.' "Where the hell are we?" The house we stopped in front of looked beautiful; really, it did. But it wasn't the kind of house I liked. I liked small houses—like the one mom and I lived in when I was still in Forks. Not the extravagant shit. Ah… Forks. I missed that town. I missed the clouds and familiar smell of rain practically everyday. More importantly, I missed the green eyes that, when I look back on it, seemed more like an emerald color. I missed the tousled bronze hair; I missed Edward.

What I wouldn't give to have gotten to say bye to my only friends; the only friends I've ever had, even if I only knew them for all of five minutes; in that instance, I had felt like I had known them my whole life. They had genuinely cared about me, even after only meeting me. I practically felt the love radiate from them to me.

I missed Emmett's shit eating grin.

I missed Alice's comforting voice.

I missed Jasper's kindness.

I missed Rosalie's… Rosalie…ness… Well, I still missed her, even if we didn't start on the right foot.

And I missed Edward. I just plain missed him. I missed all of them, but I have to say that I missed him the most.

'Dad' started talking, snapping me out of my small daze. "Don't use cuss words. It's not respectable." Yeah, says the man who cusses every word imaginable over a million times a day. "And we're in Las Vegas, Sweetheart." Stop calling me that, dad, I hissed in my head. He honestly had no right to call me that. If he hadn't killed mom and kidnapped me, or better yet, never left us in the first place, he could've gladly still called me that. But no way in hell did he have the right to call me that after he did everything that a loving dad should never do.

"Oh, joy." You could only imagine how much sarcasm I had in my voice; I tried to hold it in, in all honesty, but I couldn't. I kind of wanted him to know that I hate moving from place to place every year. Well, actually, we stayed in Phoenix for two years, but he didn't find it very appealing after a while. I just didn't like it. I stayed in most of the time. All I did was homework and listen to the radio or my iPod; my dad had allowed me to get one as an apology for forgetting my eleventh birthday. Last year, I got a flat screen as a sorry for forgetting my birthday. He had been good about remembering at first, but I guess his memory started slipping. I wonder what I'll get this year… What I want most is to go back home; to get back the life I had—even if it was sort of shitty—with my mom in the small town of Forks. Not that that'll ever happen again or anything. A girl can dream, can't she?

"It isn't that bad, Honey. It really isn't." Why can't he just call me Bella? Or better yet, Isabella. It would remind me how much he's not my dad; not technically. Rationally, yes. By blood, yes. But in no other way is he my father.

"Whatever, dad." I cringed when I used that word. I only used it because if I called him by his real name, Phil (A/N: There's a story behind this… The explanation will come later; I promise!), he would go ape-shit and I would probably get slapped. I did not want to get on his bad side the first day here. "So, when do I get to go to school? When does school start here?" Oh, yeah. I start eighth grade this year. I'm almost in high school. Finally!

"School starts on September fourth, Hun." Ugh. The nick names never stop coming, do they? "We're going to get school supplies and clothes for you tomorrow." Does he remember that it's the anniversary of mom's death? Or is it just coincidental?

Probably coincidental.

I always hate, though, that he says we so much, when I'm almost always on my own. He'll take me to the store, give me cash… Or my credit card—he'd much rather give me the credit card—and say, 'I'll be back to pick you up around five; see you then,' and then walk out the door. Seeing as I go earlier in the morning—normally around ten—I have way too much time on my hands. It's like he just wants to get rid of me for the day, which… He probably does.

I sighed. "Ok." I would have to say, I think I'm more mature than most almost-thirteen year olds. Seeing as I'm always on my own; how no one ever comes to my school functions; how he's probably not even proud to call me his daughter. I sighed again at the thought. "Can we just start unpacking and stuff now?"

He smiled and nodded. "Let's get to it!" The UHAUL was parked right next to us on the driveway of the three story house. Remember what I told you? I hate extravagant shit. This is going to be a long year, I thought.

And I was right.

It passed by all too quickly. This year, for the birthday he forgot, I got a cell phone. Finally, was all I could think in that particular instance. We had unpacked and I had gotten the top floor all to myself. I think Phil wanted to see as little of me as possible, considering the top floor had another little kitchen, master bathroom, Jacuzzi, a huge walk in closet with codes and everything... Everything I needed without having to leave my floor. It was like I lived in an apartment or something. Well, quite an extravagant apartment… But still.

I spent a big portion of the year on my floor. In the Jacuzzi, I did my homework; it had a little shelf and it's not like I splash or anything. If I had friends, it might've been different, but I guess no one really likes new people here; especially when they're kind of anti-social. If someone wanted to be my friend, they had to do it themselves. I'm not one for talking and socializing and shit unless you do it first.

Wednesday, August 27th, 2006

Dear Diary,

So, Phil is saying we might stay for another year. And I'm praying to God with all my might that we don't. Even if we do, I'm praying that I can get out of his grasp.

You know, I never really thought about it, but the older I got, the more I think about how I don't look the slightest like Phil. If I had any say, I would be willing to say I looked more like Uncle Charlie. We even have a closer resemblance in personality.

Man… I haven't seen Charlie since I was six. I bet he still lives in Forks; the place I would kill to be in right about now. Hm… I wonder if Edward and his friends still live there…

I have got to stop thinking about them. I'm getting my hopes up for nothing. It's not like Phil would be willing to make a road trip there just so I could visit old family and friends; he's too heartless to do that.

Anyways, I hate it here. More than Phoenix, actually… And that's saying something. What I wouldn't give to go back to Forks… To see my mom again… To see my friends… To be in a place more familiar than anywhere I've ever been… Now that sounds like a plan.

Maybe I could ask for that as my birthday preset: to go back to Forks and stay with Charlie. It's not like I'd be missed here or anything. Phil wasn't even there when I played the leading role of Maria in our school play, "The Sound Of Music." Oh, I told him plenty of times how proud I was to get that role, and I told him plenty of times when the shows were… And do you know what he did? He dropped me off for the shows, and sped off, like he was on NASCAR or something.

So I guess that's that. Tomorrow's my birthday—I turn fourteen—and Phil has said nothing about it, whatsoever. Yep. I'm asking for a plane ticket to go and spend time in Forks. If I'm lucky, he'll let me stay long enough to the point where he'll forget about me… I better pack my credit card and extra cash just in case.

And I could stay with Charlie! Perfect! I got it all set up… Now I just have to hope that Phil hasn't suddenly remembered, or anything crazy like that.

Like my hopes aren't high enough.

Love,

Isabella

I set my diary in my pillowcase on the underside before turning to my iHome and playing my iPod; something sweet and classical to help me to sleep might be a good idea. The clock read that it was ten minutes until midnight. I sighed and threw my head on my pillow, laying on my stomach, unconsciously reaching up to turn off the lamp on my nightstand and humming the music until I drifted into what I hoped would be a well rested sleep.

What seemed only minutes later, the lamp on my nightstand was turned on. I groaned and rolled on my side to turn it back on, when my eyes met a familiar set of green ones. "Edward?" I whispered, my hand reaching out to touch his face; to make sure he was real. "Is it really you? Or am I dreaming?" He simply smiled. What I found interesting was that I could only dream of the seven year old I met with. I cursed myself once more for going into that house; I should've run back to Alice and Edward… Emmett and Rosalie and Jasper… God damn it. I really need my sleep.

Thinking of this, I quickly swatted his face, and he seemed to just disintegrate; it was like, poof, and he was gone.

I quickly sat upright in my bed, noticing all of the lights in my room were on. I looked at the clock again; I had only gotten fifteen minutes of sleep. I didn't have much time to wonder how all the lights got turned on while I was sleeping, for I saw Phil standing in my doorway. I groaned and rubbed my eyes, sitting Indian style under my green and orange polka dot covers. "Yes?"

He smiled happily. "Isn't it someone's birthday?" I thought for a moment and then bitterly thought, Karma's a fucking bitch. I can't believe it. He remembered my birthday when I didn't want him to the most. Everyone's out to get me, I suppose. I sighed and angrily flopped back on my bed before throwing my pillow at the farthest wall. Phil stared at me, obviously confused. "Are you not happy it's your birthday, sweetie?" The things I'd like to do to you, old man… Get in my head for a day and you're fucked up for life, I thought bitterly before sighing once more.

"Did you get me anything? Or is it a free for all?" I asked, hoping I could pick out my birthday present this year; nothing he could get me would make me happier than plane tickets to Seattle and a visit with Uncle Charlie.

"Would you like a free for all?" he pouted slightly before continuing, "rather than a present picked out by your own father?" Playing the guilt trip, are we, Phil?

"I was kind of hoping for a free for all this year." I said, biting my lip. Sure, I may have felt guilty, but I don't want anything besides my beloved Forks. What else was there to want, anyways?

He sighed and his face fell. "Well, what am I supposed to do with this little guy?" He pulled a hand from behind his back. It was a box with holes and I shrugged holding out my hand. "I thought you said you'd rather have a free for all?"

"Let me see what you got first." I knew I shouldn't of. I knew fairly well what would be in that box. But, come on. I didn't know Phil would pick one of the cuter puppies! "He's… He's adorable!" I practically yelled. But it was. It was the cutest fucking thing I had seen in my entire life! But now, did I want the free for all…or the puppy? I bit my lip and sighed. I couldn't let him go back, whether he came from the pound, the pet store, or Phil was actually generous enough to buy him from a dog owner, I couldn't very well send him back.

But I wanted to go to Forks as badly as I wanted the puppy. "Well… Can I have a free for all for the ending of ninth grade?" I asked; I would take as close as he would give me.

He smiled once more, satisfied. "You can have a free for all at Christmas, if you want it so damn bad." I gnawed at my lower lip, not sure if I should just tell him what I want.

"But… What about school?" This seemed to puzzle him. Well, of course it did, Isabella Marie Swan. He has no fucking clue as to what you're talking about!

"What about school?" He narrowed his eyes a little dangerously. His eyes traveled across my room, as if that would give him a clue as to what I was talking about.

I took a deep breath. "I want to go back to Forks—maybe stay with Uncle Charlie." I saw him look slightly pleased—probably because that would mean I would be gone from his clutches; he wouldn't have to keep watching over me like the awful parent that he is—before he closed his eyes and wiped the small smile from his lips, pressing them into a tight line. He was probably trying to keep himself from jumping for joy that I wanted out of his house.

"I believe we can arrange that. Charlie would love to see his daugh—" He stopped suddenly and coughed it off. "Charlie would love to see his niece." He smiled a little nervously before running his hand through the little hair he had left.

I forgot about it. What does it matter? "Awesome! I can't wait!"

He nodded, and the room filled with an awkward silence. My puppy—white with brown, black and blonde splotches all over, one of her green eyes covered with a brown splotch—still didn't have a name. I looked at her, her puppy dog face already in position; I smiled down at her and looked into her pretty emerald eyes—

Perfect. Phil coughed and looked at me, probably still feeling awkward. "So… Um… What's her name?" I bit my lip and thought for a moment.

"Alice. Her name's Alice."

I smiled, just thinking about her. I wonder if they're still in Forks... Maybe. All the more reason I want to go back. "Um… Phi—dad?" He looked at me. "Can I go back to sleep now?" This seemed to surprise him, but then his eyes rested on my clock.

"Oh, yeah. Yeah, sure. Goodnight, Isabella." I cringed, remembering the last time my mom called me that: seven years ago. It's been so long… But for some reason I can't let it go.

What I want to know is why.

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