Disclaimer: I don't own anything it all belongs to the amazing authoress...Stephenie Meyer.

A/N: First Chappie!! Woot. Please don't forget to review.

Chapter 1: The Beginning

My best friend used to say that everyone had a story to tell, whether it be worth listening to or not, and that all these stories sadly commence with a tragic experience; a life altering event that would lead to the shaping of the rest of that person's life and eventually, if they let it, end up defining who they are.

Regardless to my friend's strong creed for this rule, I was an exception. My story started well, almost sickeningly well, like being stuck as a part of the Stepford community.

I was well endowed, there's no doubt about that. I came from parents who were both extremely wealthy in their own ways. My father was descended from a rather long line of brilliant Italian surgeons, and my mother made her career in politics. They were both the epitome of success, an ideal role model for any person to aspire to become. My parents intentionally put an infinite amount of pressure on me to be the best that I could be. They urged me to make something of myself, to not just be one of those lifeless women that sit at home popping out baby after baby as they look longingly out their kitchen windows, wondering silently to themselves if life could be so much more than what they had. I strived to be just that, something my parents could be proud of. It felt strange and a little intimidating, knowing that one slip up, or a causal dance across the fine line that had been drawn for me, would cause a full out war between my parents and I. Fearing complications with my parents, I stayed in line, keeping my nose out of places it didn't belong, making good grades, and being the ideal daughter.

I spent all of my childhood living at a villa in the outlying countryside of an ancient Tuscan village with a population of 312 people, ages ranging from enfant to 102 years old. Our family owned the villa and had lived in it for six generations. The house was a picture of perfection, making even the glorious Cinderella jealous. The old, three story house had the presence of a French chateau. A lovely green ivy had crept over the aged, tan-ish, orange stone walls, which were turning a dull yellow in some places from sun exposure. Each window pane had been decorated with painted white shutters that matched the front door perfectly. The two brick chimneys that sat delicately on the scarlet, clay, shingled roof had spots of bright emerald mildew and pollen. A small garden sat directly to the left of the house, growing all sorts of vegetables and herbs. The yard served as a home to numerous scattered pots of geraniums and roses that my mother had planted during the warm spring time. With the passing of time and with my mother's decision to not deflower the pots, each plant grew out of their strict confines and cascaded down the sides of the burgundy clay, raking across the yard in random patterns. A circle gravel driveway completed the faultless house, and a huge fountain expanded across the grassy middle of the drive, spouting lukewarm water from the outstretched, lifeless, stone finger tips of the Aphrodite statue that stood in the center.

If the house wasn't enough, the scenery compensated for it. The picturesque background bared the resemblance of a postcard, urging the waiting receiver to visit soon or saying the untimely "Wish You Were Here". The sweeping hills in the distance caressed the liquid golden sun as it rose and set, casting its rays every which way, making me grin every time I gazed at this spectacular site. The endless number of red and purple wildflower fields swayed gently in the subtle, northerly wind, like a calm ocean wave. The supple gusts of air carried the flowers magnificent perfume all across the countryside. I spent most of my childhood exploring these fields with my best friend as we tried to learn their secrets and stories they had to tell about their past. It was in these fields that my best friend and I made promises to stick by each other no matter what life threw at us.

From my house to the nearby village it only took a ten minute bus ride along bumpy, dirt roads, with buses running once every hour. The village itself was small, but held its personality well, making it have an extremely natural amiable nature, calling tourists and future inhabitants from all over the world to visit and stay. The medieval structures that filled the village were all of gothic design. Church bells clanged loudly every day at the exact same time, calling the congregation to worship. An old, crumbling clock tower stood with lost dignity in the middle of the village square, and all that remained was its rotting skeleton, only a shadow of what it used to be. Merchant tents littered the already narrow cobblestone streets, only allowing the mass of walkers and scooters through the chaos. Each colorful tent sold something different and contained shouting people, trying to make their day's pay. Buyers were shouting back negotiations to lower the strict prices that had long been set in stone.

Growing up in a microscopic, Tuscan town had its pros and cons like all hometowns do. Because of its size, everyone knew and liked each other to their faces, but behind backs and closed doors, gossip spread like wildfire. Living in a small town had its perks such as having a lot of friends, but only one of them I actually considered being more than just a friend. She was family; she was my sister. I shared everything with her, my secrets and desires, my thoughts and plans, and her name was Elena Ricci. We were inseparable growing up, staying together through thick and thin. She stayed by my side when no one else would; especially when I told her my secret passion of not wanting to follow in the path that my parents would want me to. I didn't want to be a surgeon or an engineer or a United Nations ambassador. I didn't want to help suffering refugees or negotiate peace agreements. I was selfish and ashamed of wanting what I wanted. I wanted to act. I wanted the thrill of being on stage in front of a live audience or in front of a movie crew. I wanted to be stared at, to be the center of attention, to delve into mystical worlds that could only be brought to life by the limitless possibilities movies could offer. Elena was supportive and more than willing to help me with my quest to find happiness. She took me to see all the new releases when they came out, and we critiqued the actors and actresses in the back row with hushed voices. When the time came to tell my parents, they were not as supportive or understanding.

"YOU WANT TO WHAT?!" Both my parents screamed at me as the last word escaped past my red lips. I never knew the four words 'I want to act' could be so offensive. I bit my lip, hiding the obvious frown that formed. My father stumbled shakily to a nearby red suede armchair and collapsed into it. I sighed, Aren't we in a melodramatic mood today, father?

"I want to act," I repeated with as much conviction I could put into my emotionally wavering voice.

My father brought his hands up to his handsome face, hiding it from view. My mother crossed the room in two steps and reached out to him, stroking his naturally thick, messy black hair and sitting down in his lap at the same time. My father glanced up, giving my mother a weak smile before he started to rub loving circles on the small of her back.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, preparing to argue my "odious" mental state. I cleared my suddenly raw throat as butterflies fluttered haphazardly in my gut. I opened my mouth to speak, but my mother beat me to the punch.

"Gianna Botticelli, you will do no such thing," My mother answered before giving me a chance to make my case, shaking her dark brown, curly locks in disbelief, her green eyes filled with sadness.

"But mom-"I started to plead pathetically, but was interrupted by the dangerous flashing brown eyes of my father.

"Gianna, you heard your mother. Now go get ready for bed." My dad muttered, rubbing his temple, dismissing me with a wave of his hand.

"Just because I don't want to do anything you want me to do, doesn't make it less great. It just makes it different," I cried out.

They both avoided my eyes, looking anywhere but my face. When they didn't say anything, I stood there, gaping at them, stunned. My emerald orbs were livid as I tried to comprehend what my parents were telling me. I almost started sobbing when I realized what they were trying to make me do. I couldn't accept the thought that my own parents were practically shoving my only dream that I had ever had down the toilet, and were mad at me because they had to do it. Because they had to get their hands dirty. I shook my head, ridding the impossible thoughts from my mind as I looked to my parents again, still in an utter loss of words state.

My mother looked up. Tears streamed down her attractive face. I winced inwardly. This wasn't how this moment was supposed to be. We were supposed to be celebrating, not mourning.

"Gianna, you heard your father. Go get ready for bed."

I hung my head, ashamed at myself for making my parents disappointed in me.

With tears in my eyes, I turned on my heel and fled gracefully up the grand stairs to the comfort of my own room; the only place on the planet where I could be myself without the wandering eyes of naturally judging people. I ran across the hall to my bathroom and brushed my teeth as the tears fell silently down my tan cheeks. I swiped a cold rag across my red, blotchy face and sulked back to my bedroom to change into my pajamas. I fell onto my bed as I closed my eyes, pressing my head far into the welcoming warmth of my blankets. I tried to rid the images of my parent's disappointed faces from my mind, but they continued to dance across my eyelids relentlessly, mocking me, telling me how I'd failed them. I could clearly hear their heated argument through the floorboards as I curled up in a ball, fighting the urge to weep openly. Wrapping my arms around my shins, my body racked with silent sobs, and I wished that my parents would be more accepting of me. Suddenly curious, I focused my hearing on the voices that wafted up from below.

"I don't know what's gotten into our Gianna, Marcello, but I don't like it. I don't like it at all. I mean…acting?! What is she thinking?" My mother hissed, her voice raising a couple of octaves.

"Keep your voice down, Carlotta. She can probably hear you and no doubt she's listening!" My father reproached as he sighed loudly. The sound of soft staccato footsteps echoed through the floor. I could picture my father pacing, eyes unfocused, mind deep in thought.

A sharp awkward silence followed, only the sounds of the nighttime crickets sprang through the still air.

"What are we going to do?" My father asked finally, sounding defeated as the scraping of a chair on stone resounded in the air.

"I don't think there's anything we can do. It's not like we can stop her."

"That's what you think. We have some rope out in the shed, we could always tie her up," My father muttered half heartedly, earning himself a bitter giggle from my mother.

"We can't keep her locked up forever, you know. One day soon we just have to realize that she isn't our little girl anymore. She's grown up and we have to hope that we have taught her what she needs to make her own decisions," My mother explained.

"And that brings us back to square one…what do we do?" My father asked again clearly still considering the idea of using the rope.

I pictured my mother shaking her head. "Well we haven't exactly been the most accepting. I think the best thing we can do is to just help her with whatever she wants to do. It's not like we can change her mind. You know how stubborn she is."

I let her statement sink in and grinned into my pillow. My mother, forever the diplomat.

"Stubborn as her mother." I could practically hear the smile behind my father's words.

&

The next morning was a definite improvement, at least there was no yelling or telling me what a failure and disappointment I was to the Botticelli family. I woke up the next morning and skipped down the stairs, eager to eat the luscious smelling breakfast that my mother had whipped up. I ambled lazily into the kitchen and averted my eyes purposefully to the floor and took a seat at the farthest end of our rectangular dining table. My father sat on the opposite side of the table his nose in the morning newspaper and his darting in every direction, reading. I coughed loudly and hid behind my shield of hair as my father looked up.

My mother spoke first. "Gianna, I know you probably don't want to hear this right now, but your father and I owe you an apology."

My father nodded his head in agreement. "We do. We are sorry for making you feel like you failed us, because that alone is the farthest thing from the truth. We are proud of you and we are sorry for making you feel anything less than that."

I bit my lip as tears leaked from the pit of my eye. I cracked a smile and leaped from my chair into my parent's waiting arms.

After my parents finally accepted my decision to become an actress, they handed me an application and told me I would only go to the best Italian acting school that Italy had to offer. I hugged my mother and father tightly, telling them I wouldn't let them down as I dialed the phone to Elena's house. I chuckled as she picked up the phone on the first ring.

"So," She started her usual melodic voice stiff with anticipation. "How did it go?"

I smiled into the mouth piece, knowing she couldn't see me. "Well, they just gave me an application for Italy's most prestigious acting school."

Elena squealed in delight. "I knew they wouldn't disown you, you are their only child after all. So where is this mystery school? Somewhere far away I hope." I pictured Elena's indigo eyes sparkling with hope, all the while glancing around anxiously as she twisted the phone cord around her bony finger, waiting for my answer and letting her dishwater blond bangs tumble neatly into her eyes.

I glanced down at the pamphlet that came with the long application. "Volterra," I answered, sounding the most excited I had ever been in my entire life.

She giggled lightly. "That's a coincidence, that's the city where I'm going to school."

My brow furrowed in confusion. "I thought you were studying at a veterinarian school in France."

"Remember in the sun flower field by your house? When I made you a promise to stick by your side through anything? Well college doesn't change that, and I never back out of a promise," She said and I could hear the warm, delighted smirk in her voice.

I rolled my eyes. "What makes you think I even want you to come along?"

"Ha ha. Yeah right. You live without me? That would be like asking a fish to live on land."

I chuckled lightly. "Yeah I guess you're right. I put every ounce of blame that I am emotionally capable of on you. You are the reason I don't have any other friends. You monopolize my time."

"Oh, but you still love me," Elena sighed dreamily.

I snorted. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

For the next two weeks Elena and I would switch going to each other's houses for long periods of time as we filled out our applications together, giving each other suggestions to make us sound like we belonged to the schools for which we were applying. We laughed as we wrote our cheesy and sappy essays, and cried when we had crumble them up and throw them away and start again.

That summer while most girls went off to the beach or started a new summer romance, we waited by our mailboxes everyday for that fateful letter that would decide our futures. By the time July rolled around, the mailman, pitying us for standing so long in the heat would bring us gifts of chocolates and whispers of 'good luck' or 'hope that letter comes soon'. August rolled through Tuscany bringing with it an extreme heat wave, hot enough to cook flesh off of bone, but our determination never receded as we stood by our metal mailboxes, sweating through our shirts. I wiped impatiently at my forehead as sticky sweat dripped down into my eyes, causing them to water and burn. I scowled at my forehead, mentally daring the sweat that resided there to do that again.

The day I my letter finally arrived, the mailman strolled up to me at an agonizing pace with a huge grin plastered on his face. He grinned from ear to ear as he handed me the mail and patted me proudly on the back. As he walked away, I began to sift through the letters eyes darting to and fro, reading and hoping. Finally, my jade eyes landed on what I was searching for. I pushed my long, dark brown, locks from my sweaty forehead as my heart pounded deep within my chest, threatening to explode with anticipation. With shaking hands I tore open the envelope open in one swift movement to reveal the letter. I scanned the words and sentences with anxious eyes. A small smile appeared on my lips as I ran into the house waving my letter about as if I just won the lottery.

"MOM, DAD!" I shouted into the seemingly empty house.

My father rushed down the stairs looking worried, and my mother appeared from the kitchen an apron tied securely around her waist and a wooden spoon in one hand.

"What? What is it? Is there something wrong?" My father asked feverishly as his brown orbs contemplated my appearance, making sure I wasn't hurt.

I glanced at him, confused. "What? No, nothing's wrong, but my letter came today."

My mother clapped her hands together and rushed to my side. "Well? What's it say darling?"

I chuckled, no longer able to hold back my enthusiasm. "I GOT IN!"

My mother screamed in delight and threw her arms around my neck as my father leaped over the last couple of stairs and picked my mother and I up into a bone crushing hug and whispered into my ear, "That's my girl."

I smiled up at them, finally content in my father's and mother's embrace, knowing that they would support any future decision I would make.

Elena called later that night, after my family finished eating a superb celebratory supper of acceptance. Her voice sounded strained and on edge.

"OHMEEGOSH!! I got my letter, Gianna. I got accepted!" Elena screamed into the phone. I held the receiver a foot away from my head, rubbing my ears with my free hand.

"Wow, congratulations," I sighed, looking out the window at the setting sun.

"Oh no. What's wrong? What happened?" Elena croaked, her voice cracking and her enthusiasm disappeared instantaneously.

"Nothing, but PACK YOUR BAGS BECAUSE I GOT ACCEPTED!" I screamed back at her, smiling the broadest smile ever as I thought my face might explode.

We squealed at each other, lost in our own world of complete and utter happiness for one another.

Fall arrived surprisingly fast, the emerald leaves of the trees had long since changed into a multitude of burgundies, gingers, and gold, dwindling to the ground like rain.

The second most anticipated day of my life finally arrived. It was the day I would be moving to Volterra with Elena. We already had an apartment waiting for us that my parents bought as a good luck present. My parents woke me up, their movements blurred slightly, muttering to me that I was going to miss my bus. My tired, heavy eyes tried following them as they bounced around my room, but after many futile attempts, I gave up and groaned, placing my pillow over my head.

"Mom, Dad…I'll get up. Just leave, please. You're making me dizzy," I complained into the down feathers.

"Stop being over dramatic and get out of bed," my father said as he ripped my blinds open, letting the sun illuminate the dark room.

"Besides, your breakfast is getting cold," My mother added before tossing my blankets off of my body. She smacked my feet twice and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her with a click.

I sighed and couldn't help but be internally thankful I didn't sleep in the nude. I also congratulated myself again because I had left my packing up to Elena and she insisted on packing months in advance, leaving me with little stress. Plus she promised to pick only my most "adorable" outfits in my wardrobe. Her words not mine.

I dragged my body out of bed and across the hall to shower. I cranked the water to a lukewarm setting and jumped in, letting the beating of the water relax my overly tense muscles. I scrubbed my body with my lilac soap and washed my hair with my Dove shampoo. I switched the water off and reached for my towel. After drying off, I changed into a pair of jeans and a comfortable white polo. I quickly assessed myself in the mirror before mounting the stairs to go to the kitchen. As I stepped across the threshold into the kitchen I was hit with the pleasant aroma of pancakes, eggs, and bacon. I breathed in, letting the scent wash over me and my stomach growled viciously in response. Elena, her parents, and my parents were huddled around our table, all laughing and eating. I caught Elena's eye and cocked an eyebrow at her as I grabbed a plate full of pancakes and bacon. I sat down next to my mother and began to shovel the food in, only releasing now how hungry I actually was.

"Wow," Elena said, looking at me in shock. "At college you can impress people by the size of your mouth. I hear that's an excellent ice breaker."

"Obviously it is, but nothing will be as good as your jokes," I replied sarcastically, stuffing my mouth with even more food.

"Oh really, is that necessary? You're going to make me throw up, and for once it won't be because of your face," Elena retorted, looking at me with scrutiny.

I smirked evilly and opened my mouth wide to show her my half chewed food.

"Oh that's disgusting!" Elena said, crinkling her nose in disgust.

I swallowed the large lumpy substance. "I'm sorry? What's disgusting? My food or your inability to say something intelligent and original?"

My father chocked on his orange juice as my mother rolled her eyes towards the ceiling. "Girls, please try to act your age."

"I will if she does," I remarked, sniggering into my next bite.

After breakfast the atmosphere in the house changed dramatically like a sudden storm. What was once happy and welcoming was now gloomy and foreboding. Elena and I led our families to wait in the green front lawn for the charter bus that would take us to Volterra. I glanced down at my watch as the bus rumbled out of the distance and parked across the street, waiting patiently. I picked up my bags and turned towards my parents. Both of them sported tear stained cheeks and large, red, puffy eyes. I smiled encouragingly in their direction as I gave them both a hug and a chaste peck on the cheek. I rounded on Elena who linked arms with me and set out at a trot towards the bus with our shoulders squared.

"You ready?" I asked her, watching her from the corner of my eye.

She smiled and slowly nodded her head. "Always."

In reality my story did have a bad beginning, but it started when I least expected it to; it started during the beginning of a new stage of my life. It started when I took my first steps into the city of Volterra.

A/N: Make sure to review please.