(Bella's POV)

I woke up in a white room. With pastel curtains and the whole crap. Well, I was glad I wasn't on an IV. If I was, I swear, I'm going to beat the shit out of those asses who stuck that needle in my arm. My arm was in a cast, but I really don't give a fuck, because injured or not, I was still going to perform at the streets. I don't care if it slows down the healing process, my bones naturally heal fast anyway, so I don't give a shit.

I kicked the blanket off me, and realized I had to get back soon. Whether they were dead or alive, I don't know, but if they were dead, then that's good news.

I looked through the drawers to see if I'd left anything, and I found my iPod and school bag. I took them out and I was about to get out of the damn room, more like run away, because I couldn't afford the medical fee, that was, when a middle-aged lady came into my room.

Please, let her be a fucking social worker. If she was one, that meant my parents were dead. No murder there, they were dead, killed by others, not me. I would love to thank those who killed my parents, but they might end up killing me too. She came to sit by me at the edge of my bed.

Hey, this could really be good news.

"Isabella..." she began. Ugh, if only they knew my preferred name.

"Yes?" I answered, putting on a perfect facade.

"I'm not going to beat around the bush, alright?" she paused, then sucked in a mouthful of air. "Your parents... They are..." Killed, dead, gone to hell, whatever it is, just tell me the good news that I want to hear. I put on a confused expression, just so she wouldn't think I'm a stupid little kiddo.

"They are dead. They were shot in the heart, and we're trying to track the murderers down now." Wooh, that rocked major hell. Though, I pretended to be stoning, zoning out, and going blank, another alternative since I had absolutely no idea how to fake tears. I ain't some big Hollywood star, alright.

She pulled me into an embrace, and I almost shrugged it off but I pretended to be still as a stone. She left the room, leaving me alone, probably I needed some time to grieve over them. Heck, no, this was a great time for rejoicing. The bitch and bastard, were at last, killed. I owed the murderer big time, this was probably the best news I've ever heard in my entire existence.

I stuck in my earphones, and I still pretended to be a zombie, just in case someone passed by and wondered if I needed to go to the asylum, because I was rejoicing over the death of my parents. I started playing 'Monster' by Meg and Dia, one of my favorite songs. (A/N: Meg and Dia's an awesome band, go check them out. Again, thank you, Abby, for introducing them to me.)

I decided that I had nothing better to do, so I took my cue, and went out of the damned room with my school bag, then realized I was still in hospital clothing.

Well, at least there was a washroom in the room, so I changed to my old clothes, not giving a fuck about the blood that stained the cloth. I managed to get out of the room, sneakily, without anyone noticing.

Here goes freedom. The first thing on my list, get back to the house. I got there in no time, because I couldn't be bothered about the pain that shot through me from my hand, I just loved the freedom, and enjoyed it. I took my guitar, all the books I had and the money that my parents had, of course. I swear, I was going to get a pistol. I mean, really, I'd rather live on the streets than in this suffocating apartment which held so many painful memories. I didn't want to be a masochist by staying here and hallucinating that they were here, maybe an appariton.

I stuffed the books and money into my bag, packed my guitar into a guitar case and I ran out of the house.

This was going to be great. I also remembered to take the pocket knife, I mean, really, the outside world's dangerous. I know, even with the pocket knife, I'd probably still be too weak to fight off those asses, but at least I did have a small weapon to defend myself.

I wasn't risking a trip to the police station by getting a pistol. A light and quick pistol would be great, but it was way too risky. I threw the pocket knife into the secret compartment of my bag, and couldn't help the smile that spread across my face.

Yeah, this was a new life, a life on the streets sounds pretty fun, really. I wasn't about to wait for some social worker to find me and send me to a fucked-up orphange, and get dumped to a foster home. No fucking way.

The money I got from my parents' room, hopefully, would be enough. Well, at least it was just a murder, no burglary there. I spent the rest of my day at Starbucks, getting a cup of coffee, of course, and enjoying my new life, happily sipping my coffee and blasting music in my ears, totally oblivious to anything that was happening around me. I got an Oreo cheesecake too, just because I haven't had lunch, or dinner last night.

Maybe I should just drop out of school, really, because I see no reason why I had to waste my money for survival for paying fucking school fees. I continued slacking at Starbucks, till evening or so, then went to the subway for street-performing. I managed to get a pair of shades first, just in case some social worker passes by and drags me to the orphanage.

More like another hell for kids without parents. Foster homes probably sucked even more, trying to open up with total strangers, or maybe they abused kids too.

I set up the things, and hoping people wouldn't recognize my voice, I started another night of street-performing.

"Monster, how should I feel? Creatures lie here, looking through the windows, I will hear their voices, I'm a glass child, I am Hannah's regrets..." I sang, yeah, it was 'Monster' by Meg and Dia, and I was having fun going mad with my guitar.

I managed to get through the night, thanks to insomnia, without getting tired or anything. And I was really thankful that there weren't any social workers around, because they looked more like paparazzi that drags you to a place you don't want to go to me.

The same old routine continued, some people tried to rob me when I took a short nap on the back of old buildings, but they were scared stiff, probably pissed on their pants when I took out my pocket knife and swung it around like, some schizophrenic psychopath.

Coward.

I decided that I had earned enough money, so I decided to "camp" in the forest for probably a few months. Yeah, I love Forks. I like the rain. I don't care if I fall sick, get a high fever or whatever in the rain, I just like the rain. And I don't care if people suspect that I have Swine Flu just because I keep sneezing, whatever the shit they think it is.

Maybe AIDS.

Maybe tuberculosis.

Maybe pneumonia.

Maybe Bird Flu.

Maybe a new epidemic.

Maybe.

And I swear, I wasn't going to risk another trip to the fucking hospital. My hand was healed within a few days, or so I thought, and I ripped off the cast, not bothering about

any anesthesia shit, or laughing gas. Whatever you call it.

I got used to this routine pretty soon, learning how to defend myself.

All went well, and I'd realized only a few days had passed, with me skipping school everyday, of course, since I'd yet to tell them I wanted to drop out. Okay, maybe I was too much of a coward to do that.

Until I saw someone again.

Fuck... My real wish would never be granted, would it?

A/N: So, THANK YOU FOR ALL THE REVIEWS! I don't mind criticism, and I do know I'm moving a little way too fast, but that's because I have something VERY, VERY IMPORTANT to work on.

Some novel called Darkness & Light.

Please review more, and if I'm in a better mood, I might sing Monster for you. Haha, just kidding... But who knows, I might really do that. My neck is much better now, yay, no hospitals, no doctors, no nothing. Anyway, I just updated my profile, so check it out for some stuff about my novel. Ah, I have a stupid essay to work on now.

I don't own a pocket knife by the way. The original idea was that she bought a pistol, but I don't want this Fanfiction to sound like, GTA. Haha, that was random. I remember I used to steal the police's cars and knock the police down, so all the policemen are hot on my heels. Yay.

Okay, whatever, REVIEW PLEASE. I'll try and get the next chapter done ASAP... Bear with me, you'll see someone called EDWARD CULLEN soon. Yay.

Or maybe not, because I like making Bella a violent ninja.

Hey, can you tell me if making her get a bazooka sounds like a good idea? How about I make her ride on Optimus Prime or a Decepticon? Okay, so I am random, and Transformers 2 is a nice movie. Yay. I am out of here, just in case I get really random, and lame. I love reviews, I'm a fan of them! *Creates a group on Facebook called "I like reading reviews on my Fanfiction".*