Have come. Am here.

I laid the pictures out beside me as I sat on the worn carpet, my back to the side of the bed. These are definitely the best pieces I have done so far…should I have them framed? But that would mean that he'll be out for anyone to see. Why am I feeling this possessive in the first place? He's-and I never noticed how I am referring to an object as "he"-probably an amalgam of the most beautiful faces I have seen so far. Goodness knows my first few lessons of nude painting made my eyes water. And the city was a natural habitat of beautiful people.

Look at me, and well...look at you.

Is it that simple, though? If it did happen that I met such a magnificent species here, surely Charlie would've had a fit. That, and he'll pester me with an endless supply of mace. I am not particularly ugly, but I know that I am not fetching enough to catch a hot-blooded male's wandering eye. I was always cynical about the spare bits of attention I happen to get. Let's face it, I don't look like someone worth "it", whatever that was. I don't know how to get by most days; surely another person, a Male at that, is enough to stress me out.

Then, louder than a gunshot, a scream tore the night.

Sitting up straighter, I made a quick inventory of the locks and bolts downstairs. When the scream came again, I almost jumped. It was getting closer!

I stumbled downstairs for the phone. Thank the stars that I was lazy enough not to turn on all the lights.

"911,what's your emergency?"

"Somebody's being attacked outside my house."

The next scream was followed by a growl louder than thunder.

Ohmigod, what was that? It was from the general direction of the backyard. The headset slipped from my sweaty palms as I started overturning drawers. It'll probably take a couple of minutes longer to trace the call, and I'd hate to be dead by then. I hit pay dirt when I chanced upon the old fishing gear closet.

Charlie's service revolver felt cold even against my clammy skin.

During this time the fight was getting louder. Yes, it was definitely a fight. As to between what or whom, it sounded like mountain lions and banshees. It was disconcerting to contemplate the distance from the town proper and the nearest neighbors. Keeping a low profile, I walked the surprisingly impossible distance from the living room to the kitchen. This feels like a bad episode of a crime series, and I am the inept would-be victim.

Funny how the mind snatches inane information out of nowhere to keep one occupied. Perhaps that small sense of unreality helped to keep my nerves in check. Nevertheless, I looked out the window…to nothing. The security lights had a limited visibility range, and the moonless sky was no help. If those things looked as big as they sounded, what good would two wooden doors be for protection? I slid down to the floor and held my breath.

After what felt like a really long time, the sounds abruptly stopped. What came next was the surprising sound of rending metal. Metal? More like a car being sawed in half. Then came big, padding footsteps pacing back and forth. I ran out of air the same time it became clear that the creature was headed towards the house. I crouched even lower, tightened my grip, shut my eyes.

Somebody knocked.

"Bella? It's Seth."

The gun clattered on the tiles as I hurriedly moved the bolts back. Seth was leaning against the door jamb, panting, his face and torso covered with gashes. Deep ones. His hair was wet, but it wasn't water. It was red.

The entire Forks Police Department came, which probably meant that they recognized who I was pretty quickly. Seth refused to be treated by paramedics, although he allowed them to clean him up and wrap him in a thick blanket. I screamed for the better part of a minute before he caught my attention by collapsing on me, so I had no choice but to shut up and try to drag him in. It was like pulling a log.

They made us sit by the kitchen table as officers came with high-powered lights to search the forest. Seth said he was hungry, so I scrounged the fridge and found a pie for him. Somebody put a mug of coffee in front of me. My hands and arms looked as if I've been painting in one color.

Strangely enough, my fear of the coppery smell was gone. Perhaps it was due to constant exposure?

It was fascinating to watch my companion. His dark hair was matted with blood and earth, but he was going at the pie like he hadn't eaten in weeks. The gashes looked like they've stopped bleeding, and have started…closing. But that's impossible, isn't it?

Inspector Jamieson may be the new chief, but he was amazingly hands-on. He walked past us, then doubled back in. He looked relieved to see both of us in one piece. Pulling out a chair, he sat on it heavily.

"Everything okay, Bella?"

I nodded. For what felt like the third or fourth time, he made me tell him what happened. He scribbled notes in his small notebook and made non-committal noises as I talked. The gun lay at the center of the table like an accusation.

"Now," he said, turning to Seth. "Care to tell me what happened, son?"

This is getting more interesting. The officers talked to us separately, and I've been itching to hear what he has to say.

Seth wiped his face with a corner of the blanket.

"We decided to go hunting this afternoon."

"We?"

"My friends and I."

"You do know that there is an existing ordinance against unsupervised hunting and hiking?"

"Yeah, but we didn't plan on going far. Plus we were on rez land, so we thought it was okay. I got separated from them, so I decided to go a bit further. That's when I saw the bear."

"A bear?"

"Yeah, big guy." He held up both arms. "It was running. I wanted to see where it would go, so I went after it."

"Now, let me clarify. You ran after a fully-grown black bear, running at full speed?"

Seth shrugged. "I used some of the old trails. It wasn't that fast yet, anyway. When I saw where it was headed, I figured I had to do something."

The chief wasn't the only one getting confused. Bears, if set to it, are known to be quite fast despite their bulk. There is also the matter of Seth's thin frame versus a complete set of claws and raw force.

"Alright." He looked slightly happier when he looked past my shoulder.

I turned to look. It was Sam and Billy, along with another elder whom I presumed to be Seth's dad based on the resemblance. He left us to have a conversation with them by the front door. Sam looked grave. Billy looked furious. Mr Clearwater nodded when he saw me looking. They all shook hands with the chief, then went over to us. Seth was already sleeping, but he woke up with Sam's punch to his shoulder.

"How are you, Bella?"

"I'm fine, Billy, thanks."

"This is Harry Clearwater."

I stood up to shake his hand.

He might have said something else, but I was too busy watching Seth and Sam. They were talking in their dialect, laughing. Sam even poked one of his wounds.

Laughing?

Then they said they were leaving.

"Wait!" I went after them. "Won't Seth be needing stitches, or something?"

"We have our ways." Harry laid a hand on my shoulder. "Thank you for taking my son in."

"Bye, Bella. Sorry to scare you like that." The sheepish smile was in place again.

"It looks like you saved my life, Seth. Thanks." I leaned up to kiss his cheek. He tried not to blush too much, but it was quite obvious. They drove away in Sam's truck.

The neighbors have begun to converge in front of the house, some of them going so far as to wave at me. I resisted the urge to flip them off. Chief Jamieson was scratching his head when he went to stand beside me.

"They haven't found any good prints. Ground was dry. Something thrashed up the forest pretty good, though."

"Will I get in trouble for using dad's gun?"

"No," he answered quickly. "Of course not. We'll take care of that. It doesn't add up, though…"

"What?"

He looked uncomfortable. "Charlie reported a similar incident a week before he died. Bella? Bella?"

I had crumpled to the floor.

The smell hit me first upon waking: that harsh disinfectant odor masking other traces of blood and antibiotics. My eyes opened to the off-white pillows and sheets. It was anticlimactic to see that I don't have any needles in me, or any wounds for that matter. The nurse squealed when she saw me, and rushed off. She came back with the last doctor I expected to see.

"How are you feeling, Bella?" A cool hand touched my forehead.

"Dr Cullen?" I sat up. "I thought you quit."

"Seeing as I have nothing better to do as of the moment, I am here on a voluntary basis until my family finishes our business." He dismissed the hovering nurse with a brilliant smile, who preened as she went out. I can't blame her. Dr Cullen in a white coat is every bit as scrumptious as Dr Cullen in casuals.

"I hope you don't mind," he said as he checked my pulse. "I had you admitted when you came in last night. I'm sorry about what happened at your home."

"Thanks, Doc-"

"Carlisle."

"Er-thanks, Carlisle."

"You look terribly underweight."

Caught. My cheeks began to heat up. "I've had a lot on my mind."

"Have you been having other problems?"

"Just migraines. Really bad ones." My glasses were on the bedside table. I wiped the lenses on the sheet before putting them on.

"Have you had your eyes checked?"

"Yes, these are only a couple of months old." My right hand crept up my scalp like it did a thousand times before, trying to feel a scar.

"Perhaps…I could arrange for another professional to see you. Would you like that?"

I shrugged. "Have you treated me before?"

There was a pause as he read through his chart. "I'm afraid I'll have to consult my records, although I do believe that is possible. This is not a particularly large hospital."

I brushed away the disappointment. He has helped me enough. God knows what I would've had to put through if I stayed through the investigation.

"Thanks. I guess you're pretty popular here."

"Let me see what I can do." He glanced at the door. "And now I do believe you'll soon have company."

He excused himself as Chief Jamieson (I have to remember that) himself came in. He had a copy of my statement for me to sign. The folder was wet around the edges.

"Nothing else to report, save for the remains of a bonfire a few hundred yards from your house. Will you be returning there?"

"Of course. It's Dad's house."

"Do you have a friend or relative that could keep you company?'

"I'm sorry. I don't."

He pondered that. "Then please don't hesitate to call when something happens again."

"Do you really think that was a bear?"

"No, I don't. But that's the best possible explanation we have for the moment. Do you have plans of hiking in the woods?"

That was off left. "I guess. Why?"

"Don't leave without letting another person, or the station, know where you are going and what time you will be returning. Best to keep your mobile phone with you at all times. And don't go out after dark."

"Is this because of what happened to Dad?"

He looked grayer than when I first saw him. "Charlie was another victim. There have been increasing reports of attacks on hikers, and he was investigating that when it happened."

"Can I ask what really killed him?"

"We don't know yet. But the official angle is that he caught the attacker at work, and it rounded on him. Another body was nearby, it was a local trucker."

"Yes, but what did they die from?"

"This is strictly confidential, alright?" I nodded. "It was from multiple lacerations mostly on the neck, torso and thighs."

So that was why the coffin was closed. "I guess Seth was lucky."

"Unbelievably so."

If that was an animal. Suddenly all this rustic woodlands charm of Forks seemed more menacing.

He said goodbye and left. I curled up my legs and put my hands over my head. But I wasn't given much time to think. Dr Cullen soon returned with someone else.

"Bella, I do believe you've met my daughter Alice."

The beautiful pixie smiled brightly as she took my hand. She was wearing a dress that could best be described as a Renoir painting, paired with a par of white gloves and matching white pumps.

"Hello, Bella. I chose the pajamas for you. Hospital gowns are so tacky." She rolled her eyes.

That's when I noticed what I was wearing. It was royal blue set, made of satin, and something definitely not mine.

"Thanks. They're…really comfy."

"I'll just leave you girls here while I prepare your discharge papers. You can leave today, Bella." He smiled at us before he left.

"I brought you some clothes," Alice said. She gave me a paper bag. I smiled again as I excused myself to go to the tiny bathroom.

She thought of everything, apparently. There was a small bag of toiletries which I immediately put to use. There was my favorite pair of jeans, my sneakers, and one of my best shirts. There was, however, an additional item. It was a deep blue jacket. I was holding it as I opened the door.

"Is something wrong?"

I stepped back. She was standing just outside the door, and I never had a clue.

"Thanks for the clothes. It's just that, the pajamas and the coat—"

"Oh, those are mine. I haven't used them in a while. The coat was from Esme. She said I should insist if you refuse."

I laughed. "Well, thanks again."

She took the bag from me.

"Would you like me to brush your hair?"

"Alright."

We sat on the bed. Her touch was soothing as she ran the bristles through my scalp.

"Why did you color it, Bella?"

"I…I felt like I needed a fresh start." Not to mention looking at a mirror back then was an upsetting experience.

"It's nice, but the old color was nicer."

"Maybe someday. Er—will you be driving me home?"

"Would you like me to?"

"Yes, very much."

She smiled, then hugged me briefly.

"How did you know where I was?"

"Carlisle told us. He was on duty when they brought you in, and I went to see you right away."

We walked out to the lobby, all eyes turning to my beautiful escort. It was nice not to be in the center of attention for the first time since I came here. There was also the feeling that I've done this before.

Hospitals are not exactly my favorite places, no matter how often I end up in one. Something about them makes me uncomfortable. Underneath the efficiency is a pervading sense of despair, of pain, of death. As a patient walks out the door, another gets wheeled in the morgue. Or maybe all this gloomy weather is making me more morbid than usual.

She went ahead to get her car. The nurse at the registration desk made me sign few more papers.

"Thanks, Miss Swan."

"Swan? Isabella Swan?"

The almost-screech came from a washed-out blond in a wheelchair being pushed by an orderly. She had a baby in her arms.

"Lauren Mallory. Remember me? Wait." She sneered before I could answer. "They did say you joined the bandwagon. Only goes to show what's really popular, huh?" Her thin hand waved at her limp locks.

She kept talking, and I kept looking down at her. The animosity was simply stunning. She's probably one of the queen bees in the convoluted high school hierarchy. The question remains as to how I earned her wrath.

"Living in New York, fancy clothes, great lifestyle. Too bad your boyfriend dumped you, or it'll be pretty as a picture."

That's enough. "I'm sorry…Lauren, was it? Yeah, I hardly remember high school. It was pretty bland. When I bleached my hair, I made sure my brain cells didn't get affected. I'm glad it didn't turn me to a vapid bitch."

I was shaking with rage by the time I walked out to the entrance. I would've throttled her with my bare hands if she hadn't been carrying a spawn of hers. Christ, what a bloody bitch. I was too upset to focus on that to contemplate what she had to say.

My attention was caught by a loud honk, which came from a sleek yellow Corvette gliding towards me. Alice rolled down the window and grinned.

"Hop in."

I checked my shoes if they were clean before I opened the passenger door. My hands ran over my hair, and my back plastered to the seat. Deep breaths….

"Cheer up. There are worst ways to end up after high school."

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing. You look like you've just seen thunder."

"No. Just a sad prom queen wannabe."

The house, for lack of a better word, was a disaster.

There was an attempt to keep people off by yellow lines of the do-not-cross variety, but that was the best part. Something bothered me as I got out of the car, and it became glaringly obvious as I walked up the front steps. The front door was torn off its hinges. The living room was full of feathers and stuffing, the chairs overturned and slashed open. My books, my laptop, my notes! Papers scattered the floor.

Alice cursed and got her phone out, but she was talking too fast for me to understand. The television set had a broken screen. The pictures-God, the pictures Charlie had kept all these years-the faces were scratched out, the frames broken. Broken glass was everywhere. I ran up the stairs. Just as I expected, my room did not fare any better. It looked worse. My pillows were also slashed open, my clothes and luggage torn to rags.

"Please no, please no, please no…." My world was unraveling and I feel this horrible sense of inevitability, like watching a car roll downhill.

I hurriedly stepped amongst the debris, my hands pushing away remains of my books, my pictures, my life…my pictures. Oh. Fucking. No.

"Bella?"

Alice stood at the door.

The pieces of his pictures were in my hands, like so much confetti. Whoever the vandals were, they enjoyed this particular task.

"I'm sorry, Alice." My voice was amazingly steady. "Looks like I can't offer you even a cup of coffee."

Then I laughed, long and loud.