AN: Hey out there in internet land! I know it's been forever since I've written for this story, not even joking. It's been over a year! I am so so so sorry! Ok, cross my heart I will update this story, as well as all my others, more. I swear on this website that I will!

Disclaimer: Still don't own it. :(

EDITED: 2/16/18

Chapter 1

Bella's POV

Ugh, my head hurts like a bitch! I try to lift my arm so I can rub my eyes, but I'm halted in my movements when a searing pain shoots up said appendage. I hiss in agony. 'Ok, Bella. Breathe.' I'm hyperventilating. 'Breathe God dammit!' I take a few calming breaths. That's better, now I can assess my surroundings. I'm currently lying on what feels like a soft mattress, though I have no clue where I am, so that doesn't help. Straining my ears, I attempt to pick up any noise whatsoever. The faint sound of people talking greets my ears, so it's safe to assume that there are doors and possibly a floor between me and the nearest person. Even though I know it's futile, I try to take in a good whiff of the room. Pine trees and peppermint greet me, instantly calming me in a way I never thought possible. Even though I can't connect that scent to anyone or anything I know of, it makes me feel so incredibly safe.

Getting an idea, I begin to raise my left arm hesitantly, waiting for the fiery pain that I felt in my other arm. It never comes, leading me to bend it slightly. Still receiving only a slight discomfort, I bend it fully so my hand can touch my shoulder. I move my fingers experimentally and am pleasantly surprised that I can move all ten, even the ones on my right arm aren't in any pain. Using my left hand, I wipe away the fogginess that clouds my vision. Being able to see after several minutes, I scan my surroundings, hoping to be able to discover some clue that might tell me where I am. Across from the amazingly comfortable bed I'm in, there's a wall with a few photos on it.

I swing the blankets off me, wanting to stand and investigate further. Successfully throwing my legs over the edge of the bed, I shiver at the cold air that brushes my skin. I look down and gasp at what I see: I'm in an oversized tee and a pair of large boxers. The scent of sawdust and the ocean meet me and I know that these are Sam's clothes. This leads me to wonder what happened to my clothes to lead to this. What did happen to lead to this? I remember walking over to the cliffs and yelling for Sam when they broke. Was he there? He must've been because I yelled for him when I fell. I gasp in realization, how had I survived? I fell for so long that I should've died when I reached the ground. The thing is, I didn't die. I whisper a silent thank you to Taha Aki before I get back to the matter at hand. Setting my feet on the ground, solid wood greets me. Putting more pressure on my legs, I attempt to stand up.

Other than stumbling a few feet, I can stand and walk normally. Walking over to the wall of pictures, I run my hand over the frames. The same man is featured in the few photos that grace the wall. He's with an older woman, maybe in her mid-forties, he sits with an elderly couple, presumably his grandparents, and there are a couple of him with a young girl who looks similar to him. 'They must be his family.' The idea fills my head, making me realize how similar they all look. Not the stereotypical "All Natives look the same", they look a lot like him. They must be his family to have such a close resemblance to him.

I turn to the closed door that separates me and the outside world. 'What if they forgot about me? What if Sam forgot about me?' I banish the thought as soon as it surfaces. I put it into a box that resides in the back of my mind. I call it my "Dangerous Thoughts Box", and it has an imaginary warning label that reads "Don't open unless you want to seriously fuck up your emotions!" It's safe to say that I never open it, unlike Pandora and her box. Look where her box got the world, even if mine won't do that amount of damage, it will still do a great deal if it gets opened. Moving toward the door, I reach for the handle. Twisting the knob, I open the door with a soft creak. Any werewolf in the house will know that I'm up if they don't already.

The sound of voices get louder as the crack between the door and the frame gets wider. As lightly as possible, I put one foot in front of the other, progressively walking from the room through the hall. After several feet, I reach a set of stairs, leading down to the voices. I grab hold of the banister, not wanting to tumble down who knows how many wooden steps. Taking it one stair at a time, I slowly descend to the next floor. After what feels like an eternity, I reach my goal and can let go of the rail. I'm met with a wall, meaning I can go two ways: left or right. Knowing I want to head toward the voices, I do what Sam taught me so many years ago, that I never needed until now. I strain my ears to track the noise. Covering each ear one at a time, I determine that the voices are coming from the right.

I turn, making my way through the short hallway to a doorless doorway. The sight I'm met with is laughable, about six werewolf sized men attempting to fit around a small table built for four normal sized people. Covering my mouth, I attempt to stifle the chuckle that threatens to escape. I'm unsuccessful, but none of them seem to notice. They're too deep in conversation to notice my presence, so I lean against the frame, watching the men before me. One man facing away from me moves slightly, giving me a clear view of the one leading the meeting. Surprise, surprise, it's Sam. A smile slowly spreads across my face, knowing that he's here, same as always. I choose to watch him for a while, reading his movements like only I can. He's stressed, and his hunched over posture sure isn't helping. Finally, I can't take it.

"Hope you're not working yourself to the bone, Sammy." My voice is somewhat hoarse, but I'm loud enough for them to hear me. Sam's head pops up, disbelief written on his face when he sees me. "Are you going to stand there like a gaping fish or are you going to come over here and give me a much-needed hug?" I ask, causing him to shake his head. In a very werewolf like fashion, he runs over to me. Stopping a few feet before me, he examines my face, appearing to not believe I'm awake. I blow in his face, making him huff in frustration before pulling me into a bone-crushing hug. I cough slightly at the sudden pressure on my body. "Sam," I wheeze out. "Can't breathe." He pulls away, a shocked look still on his face.

"Bella?" I nod my head in reply, waiting for him to continue. "How are you up? How are you alive? How are you awake? How?" I shush Sam, instructing him to breathe before he answers As he does I take my own breath, preparing myself.

"Okay, so I don't know how I'm up, or how I'm alive." I tick off two fingers on my hand. "But I'm up because I've slept too damn much and I want food!" I say dramatically, stretching out my left arm, but being careful with my right. Sam chuckles, before hugging me to his warm body once more. I suddenly remember something I wanted to ask him. "How long was I out, Sam?" I hear his sigh and pull back. "How long?"

He looks at me with tears in his eyes. "A few days." A tear drips down his cheek. I can't let him fall apart in front of his pack.

"Leave. Now." I use a tone that leaves no room for arguments. They run like scared dogs, which they are. I hug Sam once more, finding the familiar comfort in the warm arms of my best friend.

I am sooooo sorry that it's taken me so long. But I must say my writing is a lot better, don't you? For a moment there I thought I was writing a Sam/Bella, that's what my own writing made me feel.

Okay, I love your sexy (forgiving) faces! XOXO