I am SO sorry for such a long break! I feel like I have had no time to myself these past few weeks. I'm not giving up on this story; I don't think you guys would let me ;) But updates will be a little spread out for the next little while. Please don't give up on me! I really appreciate all the support I'm getting for this story. Here's the next chapter :)

Hands reached towards me. I pushed them away and was rendered into complete darkness. My eyes wouldn't adjust to the blackness around me and I spun around frantically, trying to figure out where I was. I could smell alcohol and it burned my nose.

Then, all of a sudden, Trevor's face appeared before me. It was massive and big, like a balloon floating in the sky. Each time I stepped back, the face got bigger. I couldn't escape it.

I blinked and then Trevor's face was mixed with that of a werewolf's. Sharp teeth and wild eyes, it moved towards me, snapping angrily. I stumbled on the ground, stuck and unable to move.

The werewolf's mouth opened. "Hey new girl," it said, howling.

I screamed.

My eyes popped open and I sat up quickly, trembling. My hand traveled along my side table until it met with the switch for my lamp. I turned it on, sighing a little with relief as light flooded into my once dark bedroom. My eyes were misted with unshed tears and I ran a hand through my hair, breathing heavily.

"Just a dream, Liss," I reminded myself, leaning back against my headboard. "It was just a dream."

I sat in bed silently for several minutes, contemplating on how I was supposed to get back to sleep after a dream like that. They had been getting worse each night; more and more vivid. I just wanted them to stop; it was bad enough Trevor was intruding on my reality—I didn't need him taking up my subconscious, too.

I decided to get up to get a glass of water. My throat felt dry and scratchy—to the point where it was starting to get uncomfortable. But, when I reached the edge of my bedroom door, which separated my bright room from the dark hallway, I hesitated. It was completely irrational to think the way I was, but I was slightly afraid to go down into the dark house on my own.

I grabbed a flashlight from my closet. Stop being a baby, I thought angrily.

When I got down to the kitchen without being attacked, I felt somewhat better. But, just to be on the safe side, I turned on the overhead lights in the kitchen. I grabbed my glass of water along with two Tylenol's, chugging both things down my tender throat as quickly as possible.

I placed my glass in the sink and turned off the kitchen light. I slunk towards the staircase, deciding I should at least try to get some sleep. But, as I reached the banister, I stopped, glancing towards the open room of the living room.

TV always makes me tired, I thought enthusiastically.

I huddled up on the couch, yawning. I threw the green throw blanket over my shoulders and turned the TV onto the cartoon channel, not even pausing to see what show was on. I huddled my knees under my chin and placed my elbow on the arm rest, resting my chin in my hand. I would just watch TV until I was tired enough to go back to bed.

I didn't even remember falling asleep. But the next thing I knew, I was being shaken awake. I jumped, blinking quickly before focusing on the concerned face of my father. My eyes traveled around the room, trying to remember how I had gotten to the couch, and once I did, they traveled to the nearby clock. 7:30.

"Oh my God," I cried. I went to stand, but my head started to spin at a mile a minute and I fell back down onto the couch.

"Honey, why aren't you in your bedroom?" Dad asked, sitting down beside me.

I didn't meet his eyes. "I couldn't sleep," I said, clearing my throat.

Dad looked slightly suspicious. His eyes studied my face thoroughly and then he placed the back of his hand on my forehead.

"Dad, I need to get ready for school," I protested.

His hands brushed across my cheeks. "No, I don't think you do," he told me.

I sent him an incredulous look. "What do you mean? We have to leave in a half hour and I'm not even—"

Dad shook his head. "You have a fever, honey," he said. "You're not going anywhere but back to your bed."

My eyes widened. "But Dad, no," I cried.

He didn't even respond. All he did was pull me carefully off the couch and guide me into the kitchen. He pulled out a stool for me to sit on and then proceeded to lift me onto it like I was four years old again. I was starting to wonder how badly I actually looked for him to act so irrationally. There was absolutely no way that I had a fever.

Mom came into the kitchen, looking just as surprised to see me as I felt to be sitting there. "Sweetheart, what are you doing in your pajamas still?" she asked softly.

I sighed. "I fell asleep in the TV room and Dad just woke me up," I explained exasperatedly. "But he won't let me go get ready."

"She has a fever," Dad said.

My mother felt my forehead, too, looking concerned. She moved to the cupboard above the stove, rummaging around in it quickly. Once she found what she was looking for, she moved back over to me and proceeded to shove a thermometer into my mouth a little too roughly.

"Mmfh," I protested.

"Hush," she murmured. "You can take that out when it beeps."

I crossed my arms. This was absolutely preposterous; there was no way I was sick. I had an excellent immune system; better than the average teenager. I had never been sick before and I was hoping to keep up that track record.

The thermometer shrieked and I tore it from my mouth before anyone else could. 101 degrees; you've got to be kidding me.

"Let me see," Mom ordered. I handed it to her reluctantly. It took her less than a millisecond to read the tiny screen. "That's it, no school for you today."

I felt my eyes go wide. "But, Mom, I can't be sick! It must be some mechanical error!"

"Honey," Dad said with a laugh. "The machine doesn't lie."

Mom poured hot water from the steaming kettle into a mug. "You probably got sick from being dunked in the cold beach water," she fretted.

"Mom, it's just a fever," I said.

I instantly regretted my words. My mother always overreacted…about everything. But if there was one thing my family took seriously; it was fevers. A fever is the first sign of someone beginning to phase. So of course, to my parents, fevers were no laughing matter. They both seemed to get a little panicky about them. Of course, there was no way I would ever phase; that much was obvious.

As far as you know, my self-conscious teased deviously.

"Liss, are you going to school in your pajamas today?" Bronson asked, joining us in the kitchen.

"Apparently I'm not going to school today," I muttered sourly.

My twin brother sat next to me. "Why?" he said carefully, looking at our parents.

"She has a fever," Dad said. He took a nonchalant sip of his black coffee.

Bronson turned to look at me. "You're sick?" he said. "How?"

"I'm not sick!" I cried hoarsely.

"Elissa, I have to go to Port Angeles for a business meeting today," Mom said, interrupting my tiny rant. "And your father has the garage. Will you been fine here or do I need to make other arrangements?"

I tried not to roll my eyes. "I'll be fine here, Mom."

Dad held up his cell phone, his eyes trained on its screen. "Rachel says she'll ask Taylor to pick her up after school and bring her to their house."

I stood up. "Did I not just say I'd be fine here?"

"That sounds like a good idea," Mom agreed as she washed some dishes. "Now, Elissa, off to bed."

"Are you going to pretend that I'm not even talking?" I asked.

This time she turned around from the sink. "Bed, now."

I sighed dramatically. I ruffled Bronson's hair as I walked by and trudged towards the staircase. Dad kissed the top of my head as I passed him, wishing me to "feel better".

I took the stairs silently and slowly, thinking more about what my mother had said. Again, she claimed to have "business" out of town. No explanation of what said business was; just that it existed and remained nameless. It was a peculiar excuse; my mother didn't have a job. Therefore, she didn't have to attend any business meetings.

Something just didn't add up in the equation.

JJ appeared from the bathroom the same time I reached my bedroom door.

"Liss—"

I slammed my bedroom door shut, silencing anything he was about to say. I wasn't ready to be done being mad at him yet.

I fixed my haphazard blankets and pulled them up to my chin as I sank down into my pillows. This time, I didn't have to worry about having any issues sleeping because the moment I closed my eyes, I was completely unconscious; snoring and all.

I woke up around one to a silent house and a less-stuffy head. I had never slept that late before—always an early riser—and it felt like I had just slept for a week. I only had an hour and a half until Taylor would be here to pick me up, so I decided to get ready now.

I showered and changed into leggings and a baggy t-shirt, pulling my hair into a wet bun. I went downstairs to wait, grabbing a granola bar to munch on as I did so. I hadn't eaten anything since yesterday morning and my stomach felt like it was going to eat itself in desperation.

This was the first moment since we had moved here that I had been completely alone inside the house. I had to admit, it was kind of nice. I could get completely lost in my thoughts and not have anyone interrupt me. The silence was refreshing.

I heard the vibration of my cell phone from inside my backpack where I had ditched it by the front door yesterday after I had gotten home from Noah's. I padded over to it and turned on the screen, surprised to see it still had half a battery left. I was also surprised to see a text message from Noah.

We didn't text very often; not exclusive enough in our relationship to feel the need to. Only when we didn't see each other or talk to each other did the texting come up. I felt little butterflies build up in my stomach as I clicked on the message to open it.

Was worried that u didn't show up this morning, but talked to B. Hope ur feelin better, see u at Andy's tonite. – Noah 3

Even though it was just a simple text message, I still felt like nothing mattered but the fact that he had indeed texted me. It meant he had been thinking about me; he noticed my absence.

My eyes widened. "Oh God," I muttered to myself. "Its official, Elissa; you've become a lovesick teenager. Way to go."

For the rest of the afternoon, I lounged around the house, attempting to finish some homework that I had left from the night before. I sat in front of my history textbook for what felt like hours as I tried to make sense of what it said. I knew a few words in Quileute, but Dad had never spoken it much around the house until we had moved here. So, I was at a loss.

And I didn't want to ask for help. I knew one of the boys would have been able to help me, no problem, but I was supposed to be incredibly smart; asking them for help would just prove that I wasn't independent. I had to do it on my own.

But, the more frustrated I got with the foreign words, the more easily distracted I became. My notebook page was covered with doodles and writing that had no relevance to my homework whatsoever. Plus, I couldn't stop thinking about Noah's text.

My phone buzzed again, as if on cue. I picked it up and scrolling through the phone until I came across a new text message from an unknown number. I frowned and opened it cautiously.

I know your secret, it read.

I froze. I reread the message several times, trying to understand what it said and when I did, who it was from. I scanned the number, wondering who in the world had sent me this. What secret were they talking about? Was this a joke? So many questions ran through my mind at once, I felt dizzy all over again.

"Are you getting anything done?"

The voice caught me off guard and my phone flew out of my hands and onto the hardwood floor with a loud smack. I hopped up, my heart beating at an irrational rate, and flew back against the wall in complete and utter shock.

Taylor held up his hands cautiously. "Easy, kid," he muttered.

I held a hand to my chest, as if it would stop my heart from leaping out of my chest. "Sorry," I whispered breathlessly.

"Didn't you hear me come in?" he asked, stepping closer to me.

I ran a hand over my face in embarrassment. "I guess I was too focused on something else."

"Right," Taylor replied with a small smirk, leaning down to pick up my discarded phone.
"Like texting someone instead of doing your homework?"

I laughed unsteadily. "Uh-huh," I lied. "That's definitely what happened."

My cousin gave me a funny look, but if he saw through my lie, he didn't mention it. "Well, are you ready to go?" he asked, gesturing towards the front door. "Car's running."

I grabbed my phone from his outstretched hand, nodding carefully. "Sure, let's go."

As I followed him out of the house, I glanced at the phone screen once more. The message was still there, open and threatening. There was no way I could tell anyone about this. For all I knew it could be someone's sick joke. But, even if it wasn't and someone knew, I couldn't get anyone else involved without possibly revealing their supernatural life as well.

For now, this would have to remain as my secret.

At least until I figured out what the hell was going on.

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