I don't own anything to do with Twilight.
I'm not sure how long this story will end up being but...eh, whatever
there's one song that really sums this story up perfectly, in fact, i've been listening to in non-stop when i wrote this, it's called: if i die young by the band perry
i highly recommend listening to it
this is my story, and I love you for reading it (:

Chapter 3:

Sitting in the car on the way to the airport was exhausting. Sitting on the bench waiting for the plane was exhausting. Sitting in a seat on the plane was exhausting. Sitting, waiting for the plane to take off was exhausting. Sitting on the plane, a couple thousand feet up in the air, was exhausting. When the plane finally landed and we were seated safely in a cab on our way to our new house, I was completely drained.

I leaned heavily against my mom as she stroked my hair. "We're almost there." She reassured me.

It was days like this, days were I could barely move, that my disease really ate away at me. What I would give to be able to jog again. But, realistically, I knew it would never happen; not with the symptoms back and Dr. Bradshaw's parting last words.

I used to love running, feeling the wind in my hair, moving as fast as I could. When I was running, I felt alive; happy. Now, sitting on that airplane was as closed to flying as I would ever be again.

I must have nodded off against my mother, for the next thing I knew, I was being shaken awake lightly.

"Madison," my mom said, "we're here honey. Come look at this house! Isn't it great?"

I sat up and stretched slowly, giving my body time to readjust to bearing my weight again. I stared at the house before me and smiled. This was by far the nicest house we had ever lived in. It wasn't massively huge like in Eureka, but it had a certain...homey quality I immediately liked.

The front lawn was small, but green, bearing a huge garden of all seemingly different flowers. It was perfect; my mother loved to garden. I stared up at the second story, directly above the garden, and was met with blue window shutters over a partially opened window. A white curtain blocked the rest of my view. The house itself was white, too. I felt as though it was horribly cliched, but I liked it.

"Wow." I breathed.

My mom nodded beside me, "I know. It's even better then the pictures! Let's walk up around front. The realtor said something about the front door, but I don't remember exactly."

"Yeah, sure." I said easily. I was all too eager to go inside; my body was getting weaker by the second.

We walked, me, in front of my mother, just in case I fell, and examined the front door. My eyes went wide as I took in the damage. Neither of us spoke for a few moments.

"Well...I'm sure we can just paint over it?" My mom said slowly, gesturing to the door, a smile growing on her face.

I bit back my own laugh, "What is it?"

There on the door, was a giant spray painted...something. A medley of weird colors, it looked more like a fat rainbow then anything else. Feet had obviously been placed on it. Although, they looked as though they were sprouting from the mass's back, along with another indefinable mass.

"Does it have ears?" I laughed out. My mom turned to be and smiled softly.

"I'm glad you're here, Madison."

I swallowed loudly, hating myself for what I was planning to do, "I'm glad I'm here too, mom."

A loud car horn split the air, making us both jump.

My mom swiped at the tear in her eye I wished I hadn't seen, "That'll be the cab driver. I forgot to pay him." I watched as she hurried off, then turned back to the giant...elephant? maybe, that guarded the door.

I felt a strange sense of attachment to it, even though it was technically graffiti.

A wave of nausea over took me then, and I stumbled forward, hunched over, and threw up the water I had forced myself to drink in the airport. My stomach growled, a sharp contradiction to the nausea, and I wiped my mouth off with a shaky hand.

I closed my eyes against the sparse sunlight and the vertigo that always followed throwing up. With my eyes still closed, I felt my way over to the first step leading up to the doorway, and say down.

My hands still shook. I needed to eat something; I had used too many calories, and my body couldn't compensate it. Throwing up was some twisted way my body demanded food.

You'd think it would want to keep whatever was in there, I thought. I sighed and rested my head against my hands, holding in the pathetic sob that no doubt my mother would hear. I didn't want her to see me like this; not yet at least. Not when this, Forks, was the 'answer to everything.'

I cracked my eyes open, and turned myself around to stare at the graffiti elephant. I narrowed my eyes at it, "Don't tell her that happened," I said sternly. My voice sounded grainy, another side effect from the wonderful vomiting session I'd just had.

The pounding in my forehead, right above my eyes, increased slightly when my mom called over to me, "Madison! I've got the keys! The realtor just got here, I'll be right over."

"Sounds good!" I called back, as happily as I could manage. I leaned by head back down and breathed out heavily, trying to let all my frustrations ease out of me. This house, this stoop, this yard, this street, these people, allwould be my last batch. I wouldn't make it through another move.

I'm not sure how long I sat there. Long enough for my joints to stiffen right back up. If I had to guess, I would say several minutes. For me, personally, time clouded together when nothing else was going on. That reason was partly why my mother was uncomfortable with me being alone for any measurable length of time. I could sit in one place, unmoving, thinking minutes had passed, when it was really hours.

It was one of the scarier things my mind had done to me, since learning about the disease. One of my doctors, I don't remember which one, told me it wasn't un-heard of, but it wasn't exactly common either.

"Here I am!" My mom announced, "Sorry that took so long. You should have called me." Her voice started to get panicky, "Oh god, I didn't even think about your muscles. Are they cramping? Baby, you need to eat too!" She smacked the side of her face, "Shit! I'm so sorry, I don't know where my minds at!" She turned back around, searching wildly for the cab, which had just turned the corner.

My mom turned back to me, "We don't have any food. We'll go out." She tried to say brightly, but I could still hear the underlying worry, "I'll call for our car now then. It was supposed to be coming tomorrow, but we can't wait."

She ran her fingers through the tangle of her blonde waves, and opened her mouth to speak out again.

"I'm fine, mom." I interjected sharply. I hated seeing her like this. "I can make it for a few more hours." I lied, "I don't even hurt that much."

"You're in pain?" My mom cried out, hurrying forward to help me up. I mentally smacked myself. Why did I say that? I had momentarily forgotten she doesn't know that I'm always in pain. It was the one fact I had begged Dr. Bradshaw not to mention to her.

It's fine, I can make it, I've been through worse, I jaded myself mentally. Once I stopped treatment, the sharp stabs of muscle pain and the ever present, pounding headache would eventually go away.

"No!" I said hurriedly, "I mean, I'm a little stiff, but I'm ok."

"You should lie down for a while, anyway."

I nodded lightly, knowing better than to contradict her now, not when she was in 'mother-hawk' mode again. I could literally see the gray hair developing.

We both walked through the front door, and stopped inside to flick on the light.

"Holy..." I trailed off, "where the last people to live here rich or something?" I asked.

We had always rented houses with furniture already stocked inside; it was just easier.

"We hit the jackpot!" My mom squealed. I couldn't stop the burst of laughter, but it was quickly cut off by the sharp pain in my side. I hid my gasp, looking over to my mother to see if she noticed. She didn't. She was much too preoccupied rushing around the kitchen, exclaiming a quick 'wow.'

'Wow' pretty much summed it up, though. Off to my left, the living room was decorated in blue wallpaper with some kind of gold stitching. A huge rug laid cover to the wooden floors, and the biggest television I had ever seen stood proudly against the back wall. Huge bay windows let whatever sunlight was outside stream in. The couch was big, brown, and looked delicious to sit on.

In fact, I did just that, collapsing into its comfy confines, putting my feet up on the coffee table.

"Look up." My mom whispered. My eyes reached the ceiling, and my mouth dropped open.

How had I missed this? I thought wildly. Dangling above me was a giant chandelier, the kind you only see in movies. On either side of that, were to skylight windows, giving me a perfect view of the sky.

"Want to see your room?" My mother asked.

I dumbly nodded, following her up the stairs, using the railing to support myself. My mom lead me down the single hall, showing me the bathroom, and the one bedroom door.

"One bedroom?" I asked.

My mother fidgeted slightly, then recomposed herself, "I figured it would be easier, after you have the treatments, you could have your privacy." She flinched at the last word.

I allowed myself a small smile, "I don't mind." You won't have to see me like that, I added silently.

My mother's eyes wandered back downstairs, and I could tell she was anxious to find her bedroom and see what it looked like.

I gestured back down the hall, "I'm ok by myself for a little while." I hinted.

"If you're sure..." She said hesitantly. When I didn't immediately rebuff my statement, she gathered me into a hug, making sure not to squeeze me too tightly, and hurried off back downstairs.

I turned to the door, struggling with the emotions I was feeling. This would be my last room. This would be the last time I would open a door, not sure what was on the other side.

I steeled myself, then reached out and opened the door and took the first steps of the last room I would ever call mine.

I walked through, and collapsed on the bed. I stared up at the ceiling. There was no chandelier here, which was a good thing. The last thing I needed was to wake up in a panic, thinking it would land on me. This room was less extravagant then the living room and massive kitchen, but somehow, it seemed to suit me. The white rug had been plush under my feet. The dresser was also white, but had a touch of purple, to match the wallpaper, which only covered one wall.

The other three walls were bare, save the mirror directly across the bed. I sighed. That would be the first thing to go. I can't stand mirrors. I already know my body was deteriorating. Having to see the deterioration, however, was a different thing entirely.

I watched myself struggle to get up in the mirror, and I turned my head away from it.

My eyes went wide suddenly, and I clenched a hand around my mouth as I recognized the tightness in my stomach meant. I hopped off the bed as fast as I dared go, and hurried to the bathroom, flicking on the light as I hunched over the toilet.

I threw up more water noisily into the bowl, and gagged on the smell. I hated throwing up. It made me feel weak. Throwing up was the one symptom I often pleaded with fate not to give me. Fate was a bitch, though, and never listened.

I rested my cheek against the cool tiled floor, and laughed humorlessly as my stomach growled, demanding food.

I heard my mom's footsteps barge up the stairs, and I pushed myself up into a sitting position. Too weak to hold my head up, it lolled against my shoulder. My hands shook again.

"Madison." My mom crouched in front of me, her bottom lip quivering. I reached out and pressed a cold hand against her cheek.

"I'm ok." I tried to calm her. She pressed a kiss in the palm of my hand, and sniffled deeply.

"The car arrived a few minutes ago. Let's go get you some food."

My rumbling stomach answered for me, and I let her help me up off the floor. I leaned against her heavily, my legs shaking with the simple effort of standing up.

"I think I saw a diner or something," My mom continued, while she led me down the stairs and out the door. "Ta-da! What do you think of the car?"

I blinked rapidly, quite sure I was finally having a hallucination. They weren't that common with my disease, but it's still possible to have one.

"It's a...a mini-van." I choked out.

My mom nodded proudly, helping me into the passenger seat. "I finally got a mom car!"

I chuckled quietly, "So much for 'never driving one.'" I quoted her.

"Oh, stop it." She chided me, and her brow furrowed, "although, I've never driven one...buckle up, Madison." She reminded me, un-jokingly.

I stared out the window as we drove away. I liked watching everything go by in a blur. Forks was so different from any place we've lived before. It was... pretty disgusting here, actually. From what I could tell so far, the sun was sparse, disappearing altogether in places. The air was sticky with not yet fallen rain. The one thing I could never grow tired of looking at where the trees. I was glad Forks was basically a giant forest. Nature has always appealed to me.

I grabbed my stomach again, when it gave another demanding growl. I fingered my hip bone, hating how brittle it seemed to feel.

"We're here!" My mom called out cheerfully. She opened her door, and slammed it after her. I flinched at the noise that made my head seem like it would burst.

My knees shook for a moment, and I leaned back against the van, hoping nobody noticed. People stared, that was always a given. Humans were curious creatures, and when you see someone who looks like death, you look. I never liked it, but I had grown used to it. I had even gotten the occasional rude question when chunks of my hair were missing, or I didn't have any at all.

I tugged lightly on the cropped ends, remembering. It had taken months for it to grow out again.

"Coming?" My mother called from down the parking lot. I hadn't realized I still hadn't moved from my spot against the van.

"Coming!" I answered fast.

I followed her into the diner, and paused to read the name: Harry's Dinner was pasted on the front.

I crooked my head at the obvious misspelling, but didn't comment. The inside was cool, giving me goose bumps. It seemed I was always cold. 'Unable to retain body heat' was just another symptom on the long list I was currently holding.

"Hey, you guys can sit anywhere." A deep voice called out.

I raised my eyes and paused. Holy good looking guy, I thought to myself. He had to be the tallest person I had ever set eyes on. His dark skin tone made me feel even paler then I already knew I was. His body seemed huge compared to...anyone's really. Muscle was everywhere.

I felt meager in comparison.

"Madison," my mom whispered softly, "are you having a moment?"

My face reddened deeply, and the man paused behind the counter.

"No." I whispered hotly.

My mom blinked at my tone, and I softened my voice, "Really, it's just cold, that's all." I lied.

I couldn't tell her the truth, could I? That I thought the man was attractive? I had never had a boyfriend; my disease didn't allow it, nor did my mother. I got sick too easily. If I caught anything besides seasonal allergies, it was all over. My body wouldn't be able to fight them both.

"How about a booth?" My mom didn't wait for an answer, she just lead me over to the corner. I plopped myself down across from her and laid my head on my crossed arms. I stifled a yawn.

My mom studied my face, frowning, but let it go. I was glad; I was in no mood to hear how tired I looked. I couldn't help it.

The man I had admired, the only other person in the diner, walked over to our table a few minutes later, startling me out of myself. I had lost track of time again; the second time in one day. If I felt myself loosing track of time, via my doctor's orders, I was supposed to try and pull myself out of it.

Well, I had a question for the doctors: How was I supposed to pull myself out of it, when I didn't know it was happening?

I glanced up sheepishly at my mother's face, but she chose to remain silent again, and just raised her eyebrows. I didn't miss the shine in her eyes though- she had been close to crying.

"Sorry." I muttered.

She reached out and grabbed my hand, squeezing it gently. "Love you." I smiled in response, and then turned my attention to the man in front of us.

He seemed relieved to finally be noticed. "Hi, I'm Seth. So, what can I get you? Want to start off with drinks?" The man-Seth- asked us.

"Water, please." My mother ordered, "And the house salad."

Seth nodded eagerly, "Sure. And for you?" He turned his attention to me.

I shrank under his stare. I hadn't looked at the menu, but I knew I needed carbs and calories.

"Uhm...a coke and some cheese fries," I said.

"Ok, it-"

I cut him off with the rest of my order, "And a...hamburger, and I have one question."

Seth seemed taken aback, but recovered quickly, "What's the question?"

"Which has more calories- the" I glanced quickly at the desert menu, "chocolate cake, or rocky road ice cream?"

He blinked once, and I knew he was trying to see if this was a joke or not. But, it wasn't. I needed heavy, bulky food to keep my body going. And, sadly, whatever I was going to eat, I would probably throw up later. I may as well eat something that tastes good, right?

"The chocolate cake, I think." He scratched his head, "I'm not sure though, I've never been asked that."

I shrugged, "Chocolate cake it is then."

His eyebrows went up, way up. "Big eater? I like that." He jokingly winked at me.

I blushed mildly under his true accusation, and quickly turned my focus out the window next to me. Seth sauntered away, leaving me with my thoughts- and my mother.

"Madison," she sighed, "how're you feeling? And don't downplay it. You never order dessert unless you know it'll come back up later."

I kept staring out the window, not wanting to lie to her for what seemed like the hundredth time today. She tapped her fingers along the side of the table. The sound made my skin crawl.

"I'm fine." I lied, finally.

My mother's reply was cut off by Seth arriving with a huge plate of food, for me, and a small salad, for my mother. He placed the food in front of us, respectively.

"Anything else?" He asked with a chuckle.

I kept my eyes purposely downcast. Me and my mother both answered at the same time:

"Nope."

"Yes!"

I lifted my head, wondering what else she would eat. It seemed my mom was constantly on a diet.

"What time do you open tomorrow?"

"Seven. And we close at nine tomorrow night. Normally we stay open until ten, but there's a bonfire."

"Bonfire?" I asked curiously.

Seth nodded to me, "Yeah, it's down on First Beach."

"First Beach?" I sounded like a broken record.

"In La Push, on the Quileute Reservation." He clarified.

"Cool." I answered dumbly.

I looked out the window again, and Seth took that as his cue to leave.

I could feel my mother's eyes on me as I stuffed my face. The little strength I had managed to keep with me throughout the years returned then, and my pounding headache reseeded to the dull throb that was always present. Even my spirits lifted. Maybe Forks wouldn't be so bad...

~~OO~~

I stared at the mirror lining the wall in my bedroom and fought the urge to throw it out the window. Everything hurt again.

I clamped a hand over my mouth, and for the third time since arriving home, I dashed to the bathroom and emptied my stomach.

"Oh god." I moaned, quietly.

I heard my mom's footsteps on the stairs and pushed the door closed with my back foot. She didn't need to see this.

She knocked quietly on the door, just as another dry-heave wracked through my body. The tears in my eyes swelled over, streaming down my face, as I clutched at my body, just wanting it to stop.

"Madison! Answer me, baby."

"I'm fine!" I echoed myself from earlier, "It'll pass. It always does."

"Please open the door." She demanded.

"No, really, I'm ok." I pleaded silently, just go back downstairs.

After a few silent minutes from both of us, I stood up on shaky legs and hunched over the sink, rinsing my mouth out. I flinched away from my reflection, knowing the pale, shaky, scared girl looking back wasn't really me.

I padded out of the bathroom, past my worried mother, who hugged me gently, and back into my room. Using whatever willpower I had left, I heaved the mirror off the wall, and laid it face down on the floor.

I wrenched the curtains shut on the window, and crawled into bed. I glanced at the alarm clock, which read 7:56, before yanking the cord out of the wall. The time was yet another reminder of how truly weak I had become. My bedtime when I was six had been 8:15.

I pulled the covers over my head, and sighed. I squeezed my eyes shut, before relaxing every part of my body, starting with my toes.

"Thirty more days." I whispered to myself, before rolling over, landing in a deep sleep; dead to the world.

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