Hi, everyone! I am so, so sorry for making you wait so long for this chapter. But in my defense, I hope it's worth the wait (or at least almost worth it). Plus, I would like to thank the people who took the time to review. You guys are the best! So, hope you enjoy this chapter!

"Now comes the mystery."

- Henry Ward Beecher -


After Gym, I drove home slowly, relieved that the first day of school was over with already. I had to admit to myself, it wasn't half as bad as I was expecting it to be. Mostly everyone I met seemed nice, I didn't get too much attention, and it hasn't rained a single drop yet—a pretty great accomplishment from a town like Forks—though the clouds up ahead appeared to get darker.

I parked my truck on the curb just before I turned onto my street, making sure it could not be seen from my house at all. As soon as I turned the ignition off, the silence from the engine was almost deafening.

Enjoying the last few seconds of warmth before stepping outside, I sighed, then grabbed my bag and pulled up my hood. I closed the door of the truck as quietly as I could and walked towards the gloomy house with heavy shoulders.

With each step, my instincts screamed at me to stop and turn around; to run. And I wished that I could. But I also knew that things would get much worse than what could have been, so I kept walking.

In minutes that seemed to pass much too fast, I was trudging up the porch steps—almost tiptoeing—and slowly opened the door, stepping inside.

I listened for any sounds in the empty house, and caught the monotonous drift of the TV. Taking a deep breath, I headed upstairs for my bedroom.

Suddenly a strong, rough hand grabbed hold of my wrist from behind me, jerking me around.

"Where the hell have you been?" a harsh voice growled.

I kept my eyes down. "I just got back from school, Phil," I answered quietly, never meeting his bloodshot eyes.

He snorted mockingly. "School? What do you need school for if you have all your mother's precious fortune?"

My wrist started throbbing from his grasp. I pressed my lips together.

"There's no food in the fridge. Why don't you make good use of that money and get some food? Unless you want to starve. You know what that's like, don't you?" He smirked.

Then he used his grip on my arm as a leverage to throw me back hard against the wall. I exhaled sharply as my breath got knocked out of my lungs. My head spun, and I felt the blood flowing back to my right hand in pounding rhythm. I struggled to gain back control of my lungs and to inhale.

A pair of keys landed on the floor in a jangle next to me.

"Be back here in an hour. And don't you try to pull off any funny shit, either." He turned around and dragged himself towards the living room.

After a minute of catching my breath and slowly massaging my wrist, I grabbed the keys and headed outside, getting into Phil's old Saturn.

I drove to the town's only grocery store and inadequately filled the cart with a week's worth of food—I knew that it wouldn't be too long until the food would run out, and I wanted the chance to get out as often as possible.

Phil checked the credit card he usually kept in his car every week, making sure no suspicious payment was made; he made sure I knew that. The money that the card held was a small percentage—though it was definitely an ample amount to live off of for the rest of his life—of the money my mother left behind for him. The rest was put aside for me to inherit.

I knew that he kept his eyes on that inheritance. No one had access to that property except for me when I would become a legal adult next year. Just one more year until I could escape, be free. And Phil was aware of that.

I packed the groceries in the trunk of the car slowly, making sure my timing was right. I shuddered to imagine what my consequences could be if I got back a minute too late.

I kept the car's speed steady at 50, my eyes flickering to the clock on the dashboard every minute. The engine seemed too quiet compared to my homey truck, and it was almost eerie, making me even edgier.

When we moved here, I had a small collection of cash that I had saved up since I was in my middle school years, when my mother was still alive. The day after we settled in the small house here in Forks, I was grocery shopping, and in the store's parking lot was where I spotted the faded red truck, and the "For Sale" sign on its back window.

Its owner, a tall boy appearing to be maybe a year or two older than me, was getting inside the driver's seat with a single grocery bag in his hand. It might have been compulsion, an impulse, but the next thing I knew, I was rushing up to the truck and softly knocking on the window on the driver's side.

And it was then that I bought the truck with my own allowance. I kept it hidden from Phil, only able to guess what he would do if he found out. He believed that I walked to and from school, so my truck was parked around the corner, unrevealed to him.

When I walked through the front door with the groceries in my arms, I peeked in the living room to find Phil passed out on the couch, and I exhaled a sigh of relief. I put the food away and started dinner. Just as I was setting the plates on the small table, Phil appeared in the kitchen, and I automatically tensed.

But he merely took his plate of spaghetti and headed back for the TV.

It was the effect of his erratic moods—I never knew what to expect at what time. I guessed he had a minor case of bipolar disorder.

The rest of my evening was graciously quiet and uneventful. I finished my dinner, washed the dishes, did the little homework I had, and went to bed, not knowing what to expect for the next day.

[2005, January 13 | Forks, WA]

"Swan."

I stopped as I was about to open the door to my English class. Leaning against the wall again was Edward Cullen, crossing his arms.

I frowned in confusion. He was the only person around who would have said my name, though he was a couple yards away from me.

He smirked, gesturing with his head that he wanted to talk.

I warily walked towards him. "Um... hi," I said uncertainly.

"Not much of a talker, are you?" he said. "Kinda left me hanging there yesterday."

"I was in a hurry," I muttered. The familiar smell of weed was catching up to me now, and I took short breaths.

He chuckled. I looked around briefly to see that the school was clearing out, the students going to their first period classes.

He looked around, too. "What, you're worried about being late?"

I turned my head to another direction, annoyed. "What do you want?"

For a second, his face showed surprise at my directness. And then the cocky smile returned. "Just the conversation that you owe me from yesterday." He paused, reaching into his pocket as he lifted an eyebrow. "Did you want something?"

I saw him finger out the corner of a plastic baggie, and as realization hit me, I stepped back. I glowered up at him, anger in my eyes. "No, thanks," I said coldly, and turned around to rush into my classroom.

[Edward Cullen]

I was aware of the short glances the teacher and some of the kids in the classroom sneaked at me. I couldn't blame them, to be honest. When was the last time I was in my seat before the late bell rang?

I slouched forward and rested my cheek against my fist, watching my other hand trace random patterns on the smooth black tabletop. I didn't understand. What the hell did these people do before the bell rang?

And then the stool next to me scraped lightly against the floor. I kept my head down, but something from deep inside of me wanted to say something; to apologize from before. I frowned to myself. That wasn't like me at all.

I slumped forward even further, both my hands now running through my hair in annoyance. Why was I even here? I could have been outside getting wasted; the idea seemed that much more appealing than sitting here like an idiot. The guys were right. I internally kicked myself for not listening to them.

Finally, the second bell rang, and I slowly lifted my head in time to see Mr. Banner already starting on his lecture. I stretched my arms out in front of me, inconspicuously stealing a glance at the girl sitting next to me.

She was doodling on the edge of her notebook with a blue pen, occasionally looking up at the teacher and then taking notes. She held her pen delicately, lightly, and repeatedly massaged her wrist. Sometimes she tucked her long hair behind her ear—

I blinked fiercely and turned my head back, squeezing my eyes shut. What the fuck was happening to me? This is stupid, I thought. I never even had a decent fucking conversation with this girl. I rubbed my temples in circular motions until it hurt, trying to clear my mind altogether.

"You know, I think I'm starting to believe in karma."

My eyes flashed open, and I realized that everyone was looking into microscopes. I turned my head by a degree to look at the girl again.

"What?" I said in a flat voice.

She peeked into the microscope on the middle of our table—turned more over to her side—and jotted something down on a worksheet before rubbing her wrist again.

"'What goes around comes around.' That kind of thing." She looked into the microscope again.

"I don't even know—"

"I'm talking about your stupid headache," she quietly snapped.

Sitting up, I stared at her through narrowed eyes, still not knowing what she was getting at. "Karma?" I repeated. "I didn't smoke since this morning, just so you know."

"That's great; you want a gold star?"

I cocked an eyebrow. "No. I want to know why you hate me." It sounded gay, but whatever.

Her eyes rolled. "I don't hate you."

"Yeah, well you sure bitch around with me like you do."

She scowled at me. "I don't know you enough to hate you, 'kay?"

I stared at her, waiting for her to give me a straight answer. Standing up now, I leaned against the edge of the table. Half a minute passed until she sighed while scribbling another answer on the worksheet and then looked me in the face.

"You skip classes, do drugs, offer drugs to random people that you just met—and that's not the thing that ticks me off. It's the fact that you're so... cocky, and proud of all of it. And excuse me for saying this for my own benefit, but I can't stand the smell, either."

Then she turned back to the lab work. I continued to stare at her, befuddled, repeating the words in my head. Cocky? And what smell? I shook my head sharply and frowned.

"Fine, I'll do the rest," I said, reaching for the microscope.

She put a hand up to stop me before putting it back on the instrument to look into it. "No, forget it. Forget I ever said anything."

I huffed impatiently. "Trying to prove something to you here."

I caught her wrist to pull her hand away from the microscope—not exactly gently, but not roughly, either. And she grimaced, gasping sharply, and quickly withdrew her hand.

I froze for a second, a confused and startled expression on my face. Then something dawned on me.

With hard eyes, I glowered at her. "Let me see your arm."

"What?" She looked back at me nervously.

"Let me see your arm," I repeated, almost a growl.

"No." She turned away, suddenly intent on the lab.

Frustrated, I took her right upper arm and carefully but quickly pulled back her long sleeve to reveal purple marks around her wrist. Very familiar marks.

Okay, so I have already started the next chapter, and I will try my hardest to put it up as soon as I can. In the meantime, please take the time to leave a review; it will be my greatest motivation. Even a simple one will be amazing. Thank you!