Thank you, thank you, and thank you! I cannot believe I have already 5 reviews. You all just made my day. Seriously, you did. So far my day has been like crap.

Anyways, enough about me, let's get on to the story shall we?

Disclaimer- I do not own Twilight or anything else really mentioned in this story, ok? So, don't like, sue me or anything.

Chapter 1- The Dearly Departed

Songs- Bright Lights by Matchbox twenty

I'm Movin' On by Rascal Flatts

"Well, Bella, I haven't seen you in awhile, how are you?" My father, Charlie, hugged me hesitantly. I hadn't seen him for a little over a year- I had way too much going for me to make time for any visitations. Clearly, I had been a little over my head.

"I'm good, Dad, thanks for asking," I faked a smile, pulling on the dark shades of my sunglasses. It wasn't like it was needed here, but I didn't want anyone to read my expressions.

The tragedy had happened a little over 2 months ago. There was so much that had happened and I didn't want to go back there ever again. It was my fault that everyone in my house had died. It was my fault there was no survivors. And it was even my fault that I had been the only one alive.

For those past 2 months, I wasn't anything like I used to be. I went undercover, stayed indoors almost the entire time, and never had the headlines on E! News like I used to. It was excruciating, but there was nothing for me to do about it.

Since I no longer had a parental guardian living with me in Los Angeles, I was forced to move to Forks, Washington, where my dad resided. Why he lived here still? I had no idea, but he never wanted to move to LA- not even for me- so here I was.

This whole thing sucked. Dammit! I was a freaking famous musician. Everywhere I went people knew my name. I didn't deserve to live in such a desolate place.

"Charlie, where's the nearest mall?" I asked idly, tossing my hair to the side and pulling it into an elastic hairier.

"About an hour away, in a place called Port Angeles. Why?"

"Oh, just wondering."

An hour away? Clearly I would have to waste my weekends driving back and forth from there. No way in hell would I be able to live without one decent place to shop at.

We pulled into my fathers drive way. It was exactly like I remembered it. As I grabbed my many bags and brought them inside the house, I quickly realized I had no idea where my bedroom was.

Charlie, obviously noticing that I was looking around strangely, said, "Your room is up the stairs to the west." I thought he shook his head and muttered something, but I couldn't catch it.

There were 2 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms-I made Charlie add one- , a living room, stairs and a kitchen. The house was way too small for my liking, but since I was living here, I would have to get used to it. I couldn't live in luxury forever, could I?

I sighed, placing my bags onto the floor, and laying down on the bed. My room again, was too familiar. The floor was wooden, the walls light blue, with yellow curtains around the window. The only thing I noticed that was different was an added desk, and a bigger bed that replaced the crib and smaller bed I used for sleep when I visited and lived here as a small child. As I looked around, I noticed the rocking chair from my baby days in the corner of the room.

Charlie didn't change much of anything. With a sharp pang, I realized it was because he still loved my mother, Renee.

Renee left Charlie with me, when I was only a few month old. She moved to Los Angeles, where her family lived, and they welcomed her with open arms. Renee's mom wasn't at all pleased when she found out Renee had gotten married and moved to a small town with hardly any people. And it was just like my mother to hate the small town life.

This was sort of how my career started. My grandparents were very wealthy and as I grew up, they noticed I had a talent. So, at the age of 8 I was put into singing lessons with the best voice teacher in all of Los Angeles. I started writing songs, sneaking into my mothers room where her guitar was, and after awhile started writing them down. I taught myself how to play guitar but my grandmother still put me into lessons.

So, then at the age of 14, with an almost perfect voice –it still needed help in places, but nothing is ever perfect- and lyrics that flowed easily with a guitar, I made my name. As Isabella, I was one of the most popular teen singers in all of the US and England. I still am, actually.

But with my grandparents- who died last year- and my mother and Phil gone –Phil was her 5th husband- there was no way for me to continue with my music. It wasn't that it was impossible; I just couldn't see myself doing it anymore.

Almost everything I had, I lost. Some things were in my other houses in LA and other places, but the mere important things were gone. I wasn't a very material person but some things I had I could never let go. And all my treasures were destroyed -blown up into pieces- my mother's guitar, my numerous pictures of childhood, my first song sheet, my 3 time platinum record. Everything was gone.

I soon realized I was crying. I didn't stop. Instead, I let the tears flow as I got up and unpacked my bags. With another jagging pain, I realized my life really was over. I could never go back. Fame isn't really everything, I am now coming to discover. I didn't particularly enjoy it, but it was something I had spent my entire life to happen.

It couldn't really be that over. I was still making money for when people bought my CDs and I had an album that's coming out next month. If it still does, I'll never know.

But, no one knows exactly where I'm located, and no one here is going to be over-obsessed with me.

Here, in Forks, I'll be the new girl. No one here will know who I am. I'll be just the girl who has the same first name as Isabella and the same type of looks. Hopefully, no one will truly notice who I really am.

But there's only one way to find out.

Tomorrow. My first day at a new school. Forks High school. I hadn't been to an actual school since junior high. I would be a freak, someone who pretended to know everything, but knew absolutely nothing about where she was. And there was nothing I could do to change that.

As nighttime came, I went to my bathroom and stared at my reflection. My hair was dyed back to its original color, brown, but I added blonde highlights, because I couldn't give up my entire look.

In Los Angeles, I was the blonde hair blue eyed wonder.

Now, I was the brown haired brown eyed, curiosity.

I looked into the mirror, staring back at the girl I had hid under the looks. I had pale skin, like a porcelain doll, so back when I was 7 I went to a salon and got my hair color changed. As I grew older, I also got colored contacts.

I wondered why my mother went through so much trouble to change my appearance. Now, as I gazed back at the person I truly was, I realized it was for protection in case something tragic hit. I always thought my mother to be the one I had to look after, but I didn't see that she looked after me too.

Slamming the bathroom door behind me, I ran into my bedroom, tears rolling down my eyes. I curled into a ball and listened to the constant whooshing of the wind and spattering rain on my window. I cried myself to sleep.

Wow that was kind of a long chapter, wasn't it? Sorry if it's hard to read or anything. I really got into it. There's so much I have planned for this story, so be prepared!!

Some things will follow the line of Twilight, but then again, it will be completely different. =).

So, I'll try to update when I can, but it may be awhile, because I have a lot going for me this week. I promise I'll update when I get the chance!!

Thanks again to everyone! You are the light to my day… lol.

Sparkle!

Kylz