(A/N: I do NOT own any of Stephenie Meyer's works. Rated M for language and lemons in later chapters.)

Bella's POV

Tuesday, September 11, 2001-6:30 am

My alarm clock rang and I drowsily tapped the snooze button before getting out of bed. I picked my clothes up off my chair and headed for the bathroom.

I'm sorry. I haven't really introduced myself. My name is Isabella Marie Swan, but I preferred to be called Bella. I lived with my mother Renee and my new stepfather Phil in the Brooklyn section of New York City. I have lived here ever since I was six.

My father Charlie also lived here, two blocks away from my house. He used to reside in his hometown in Forks, Washington, a place under the nearly constant cover of clouds. I was born in Forks just like him, but Mom left him when I was three months old and we moved to California. We stayed there before coming to New York City.

I used to go to Forks every summer since I was one to visit Charlie. However, since I didn't like it there very much-I pretty much hated anything cold and wet-he started visiting me here in New York when I was seven. Last year, though, he decided to stay here permanently. Or at least until I was eighteen.

Life with my family was not very difficult, but sometimes a little too exciting. Phil and I often had to prevent my erratic, harebrained mother from doing half of the things she wanted to do or thought of doing, especially when they weren't such good ideas. Before Mom had met him when I was twelve, and after Grandma Marie died when I was eight, I had to do this by myself. Other than that, not much drama. I usually kept to myself at home, reading or writing stories when I wasn't doing homework. Sometimes, though, I watched television, played games, and went out to dinner occasionally with Mom and Phil when they were home from their jobs at the World Trade Center's North Tower. They both worked as interpreters. They were fluent in Spanish, French, Italian, Arabic, Hebrew, Hindustani, Russian, and the Chinese, Japanese, and Korean languages. It was because of them I could speak those languages too, or at least understand them. And it's also because of them that we had a lot of money.

Charlie, who I spent every weekend with, worked in the North Tower too as the Head Security Officer. Mom and Phil weren't sure how they felt about that. I think they both knew that Charlie still loved Mom, but since he never bothered her, they set aside their doubts. Charlie was not one to start trouble, though. Like me, he was quiet and kept to himself most of the time. When I visited him, we usually just stayed in his house, not doing much. Every once in a while, however, he would take me to the Radio City theatre or to Sylvia's restaurant. Sometimes we even went to the Apollo in Harlem.

Anyway, let's continue with the story.

After I had taken my shower and gotten dressed, I went downstairs to make breakfast. Mom wasn't a good cook, and she and Phil were often busy with work, so I pretty much cooked all of the meals.

While I was fixing Phil's favorite breakfast-french toast with eggs, sausages, and fried red and green tomatoes-I peered out of the window. It was such a beautiful day. Dazzlingly sunny with hardly a cloud in the sky. I could hear birds chirping in the dogwood tree outside of my house.

By seven twenty, I had finished cooking our meals, and Mom and Phil were sitting in the dining room.

"Morning honey," Mom greeted brightly as I set her plate in front of her.

"Good morning, Bella," Phil chimed in.

I smiled at them. "Morning Mom, Phil," I replied.

We tucked into our food. Because I had to be to my school-Clearview High-by eight fifteen, I only ate a bowl of Frosted Flakes cereal. I ate my favorite breakfast, blueberry belgium waffles and orange juice, on the weekends.

"So," Mom began, jerking me from my thoughts. "Isn't it someone's birthday in a couple of days?"

I felt myself turning red. "Yeah. Mine," I piped up a little wearily.

"Aww, come on, Bella! Where's your enthusiasm? Is there anything in particular you want? Anywhere you'd like to go?"

"No. I don't want you to waste your money on me."

Mom looked slightly crestfallen, and I felt guilty. "Are you sure? There must be something."

I sighed. "Well...I guess I'll think about it and see if there is."

Mom grinned. "Okay. Just let me know."

Once I finished my cereal, I put on my denim jacket and grabbed my bookbag. "Bye Mom. Bye Phil. I'll see you when you get home." I gave them both a hug and a kiss.

"Bye Bella," they said at the same time. "I love you," Mom murmured.

"Love you too," I whispered.

Then I left the house and waited for the bus on the corner. After it arrived, I paid my fare and sat in the first available seat behind the handicapped section.

On the way to my destination, my only friend Gabrielle Watson climbed on the bus. She had a lot of things in common with me. She was just as introverted as I was, but we still had plenty of fun. The only difference between us was that she insisted on being called her full name. She hated to be called Gab or Gabby. We had known each other since middle school.

"Hi Gabrielle," I declared.

She turned to me and grinned. "Hey, Bella, what's up?" she inquired, sitting next to me.

"Not much."

"Have you planned anything for your birthday yet?"

I shook my head. "No. Not yet."

"Oh. I hope you do soon. Hey. Why don't we go skating?"

I laughed skeptically. "Are you kidding? As klutzy as I am, I'd break both of my legs!"

Gabrielle made a face. "Yeah. I guess you're right about that. Never mind."

We discussed more ideas until the bus stopped in front of Clearview on Southeast Eleventh Avenue. In the end, we decided that we could go to Dave and Buster's, a place that was like a giant arcade and game room. I was less likely to get into accident there, unless I was hit in the head by an air hockey disc. Unfortunately, I was unbelievably clumsy, and I was a magnet for bad luck and danger. Consequentially, I was in the hospital more often than not.

Since Gabrielle and I were in school early, we waited in the cafeteria until it was time for our first class, which was English. I wished that I had Algebra 2 first. I hated math.

Two minutes before the first bell rang, we made our class. Our English teacher, Miss Jones, was very strict. Anyone who came in after the first was considered late. In fact, she always ruined everyone's peace of mind, and made everyone hate her class. And that was saying something because I loved English. Gabrielle said that if her boyfriend Donald was fucking her right, she wouldn't have such a large pole up her ass. Perhaps so, but it shocked me that she said something like that.

Once everybody was in class, Miss Jones strolled into the room. "Good morning, class," she proclaimed, looking uptight as usual.

"Good morning," a few of us responded.

Miss Jones stood behind her desk and pulled a stack of papers out of her valise. "I thought we would start the day," she remarked, "with a pop quiz."

Nearly everyone groaned in annoyance, myself included. I officially detested her now. Bitch!

Luckily, it was on the book we were reading-Night, by Elie Wiesel. I had read all of it a few days ago, so the quiz was a breeze. For some of the other students, however, it was a bit more difficult.

It took nearly a half an hour whole class to finish the test. Miss Jones collected them and told us to take out our books and read chapter two.

I had just started when I heard a distant BOOM. But I didn't think about it. To me, it was just one of the sounds of the city. Probably a car accident or something of that sort.

Several minutes later, someone knocked on the door frantically. Miss Jones answered it. "Yes?" she queried.

I turned around to see her speaking to another teacher. I watched as her expression changed from confusion to horror.

"Oh, my God," she breathed. "Are you serious?"

The other teacher nodded. She looked as if she were close to tears.

Miss Jones covered her mouth.

"It would be best if we started to send the students home. Get them to call their parents," the other teacher whispered.

I frowned. I was beginning to feel seriously worried. What the hell was going on?

"I will. Thank you," Miss Jones said quietly.

She closed the door and stood in front of the classroom again. "May I have your attention, please! I have an important announcement to make!"

Everybody looked up.

Miss Jones was fidgeting. "I'm afraid that I have some very terrible news."

Oh no.

Gulping, Miss Jones continued. "Two American Airlines planes and two United Airlines planes were hijacked early this morning. O-One of them, American Airlines Flight 11, crashed into the North Tower of the World Trade Center minutes ago, at 8:46..."

"W-WHAT?" I shrieked, my face going numb. Many of the other students, including Gabrielle, pivoted to stare at me. Gabrielle's face mirrored my own.

"Yes," Miss Jones confirmed, shooting me a pitying glance. "And because of what happened, we are dismissing students early. The seniors are being sent home right away, but everyone else has to go to the cafeteria to wait for their parents. For those of you who do not have cell phones, I advise you to go the main office and call your parents from there. Hurry up and pack your things. There will be no homework."

As I put my books in my backpack, my mind raced in fear. Mom, Charlie and Phil would have been in that tower by now. Were they okay? Had the plane crashed into one of their sections of the building? Charlie's office was in the lower middle portion, and Renee and Phil worked about ten floors higher. I threw my bag onto my back and sped out of the classroom along with everyone else.

Once I was in the cafeteria, I called Renee. The phone rang, but she didn't answer. I hung up and called Charlie. He didn't pick up either. Nor did Phil.

I tried to comfort myself by noting that at least none of their phones went straight to voicemail, but it didn't help.

I continued to call them for the next few minutes, but they still didn't answer. I could feel a panic attack coming, but I fought against it and excused myself to go to the bathroom.

But the bathroom was not my destination. Instead, after I turned the corner, I made my to the nearest fire exit.

No one was in the hallway, so it was easy to sneak through the door. I tiptoed down the stairs and out of the door.

"Hey! That girl over there is leaving without a parent or guardian!" a man yelled.

Damn! Fuck!

I sprinted down the street without looking back. My pursuer followed behind me, his footsteps landing heavily on the pavement.

Up ahead was a crowd of people walking in my direction. I timed their position, then ran through them and then into an alleyway on my right. To my relief the man, who was one of Clearview's security guards, sped past and didn't notice me.

I sighed, then rushed onto the next block. From there, I could see smoke streaming out of the top section of the North Tower.

This was not good!

I had to go to Manhattan right now. To get there, I would have to catch the 74 or the 59 bus that crossed the Brooklyn bridge. Hopefully, my parents and Phil were already leaving the building.

As I gazed at the North tower again, I saw an airplane swooping towards the city. It dipped low, and then-BOOM! It crashed into the South Tower!

NO!

Shit! Shit! Shit!

Why was this happening?

What the fuck was going on?

I glanced up the street, wishing that the bus would hurry the hell up. I really needed to get to Manhattan before another horrible catastrophe occurred. I had to find Mom, Charlie and Phil before anything could happen to them!

I had to!