A/N: Hey guys! It's sure been a while. I've retired on my Home story and I want to thank everyone that has read and reviewed that story. This new story was my original draft/idea for Home but I had decided against using it at the time. But now, I'm going to use it and take it in an entirely different direction. I hope you enjoy!

Chapter One

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

It was that incessant noise that woke me and the pain it sent shooting through my skull that kept me in the land of consciousness. That, along with the smell of gasoline kept the darkness from claiming me again. I was in a car.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to remember what happened. This was his car. I'd stolen it after I stabbed him in the stomach and ran from his house.

Oh God, I thought. I hurt someone.

I have to add that it was in self-defense, he was trying to kill me. But still. I had stabbed Master and then stolen and crashed his car into a tree. I didn't know how to drive! I'm only 13 years old! I think anyways. I sort of lost track of my age/birthday's over the years. But I really really didn't want to die. Not like that. I couldn't take it anymore, so I ran. And now I was going to die anyway.

Smoke was now billowing from the engine of the car. I had to move quickly. I tried moving my leg but nearly blacked out again from the pain of it. As it was, I threw up all over myself.

Yep, definitely broken.

Panic took me over then. I had hurt someone horribly to get away and live just to burn to death in a car on the side of the road. No one was here to help me. No one would come. This was the deserted Olympic Forest.

In a wild panic, I pounded the horn, praying to whoever was listening that someone would hear me, while also knowing it was near impossible. Just as the flames started flying out of the hood, I heard an extremely loud screeching noise to my left. Whirling around really wasn't the best course of action with a head wound. I caught a glimpse of bright blonde hair and honey-colored eyes as the man ripped the door off of the hinges with his bare hands...before I passed out again.

–

Later, when I came to, I was in a very comfortable bed in a bright room. Too bright, I winced. A room I didn't know. Panic overtook me again and I struggled to get the blankets off. They felt so constricting like they were holding me down.

Like Master would, my brain helpfully supplied.

My heart rate was still climbing as I struggled to get up. When I finally got the blankets off my legs, I went to swing my legs over the side of the bed to realize that I couldn't move my left leg. It was in a cast. I wouldn't be able to run.

A scream was steadily growing in my throat when a woman came rushing into the room and to my side. She was so beautiful but I didn't want her to touch me. I flinched away from her hard and fell back to the pillows with a whimper.

She put her hands up in front of her, eyes big."It is okay, sweetheart. I will not harm you," she whispered to me.

I couldn't calm my breathing but something in the back of my mind was telling me that this woman was safe. That she wasn't working for Master. No one so beautiful could be so evil. Her caramel-colored hair had me mesmerized and I forced myself to focus on it while my breathing finally started to slow. It was so rich and long that my fingers twitched with the urge to touch it. What was wrong with me? I needed to stay on guard.

"That's it, you're safe," she reminded me, lowering her hands. "My name is Esme Cullen, by the way. May I sit next to you?"

I considered her request nervously. You can't really trust people by their looks. I've learned that the hard way a time or two. Swallowing, I finally nodded and she took a seat at my side on the bed.

"Where I am?" I croaked out. Ugh, my throat was so dry. I tried to swallow again but it hurt. Wincing, I gave up and focused back on the beautiful woman.

"You're in our home", she said sweetly. "My husband, Carlisle, found you in a crashed car about 7 miles away. He's a doctor. He treated your injuries, but you were very lucky. That crash could have left you far more injured. Were you driving? He said that he had found you in the driver's seat!" she exclaimed worriedly.

In a bold bought of defiance, I ignored her question and instead asked one of my own, "Why didn't he take me to a hospital?"

It was the smart thing to do. Unless of course, they were working for Master. Something told me that thought was utterly ridiculous, though. I half expected her to lash out because I didn't answer her but she just smiled at me.

"This was closer and he knew he had all the needed equipment to treat you," she told me. "You suffered a broken leg, a head laceration, and some abdominal bruising."

I've had worse.

I didn't realize that I said that out loud until she reached out for my hand with a heartbreaking expression. I forced myself to not flinch this time. I felt bad enough for putting that expression on her lovely face. Instead, I squeezed her cold hand in mine, trying to give her as much comfort as I could offer her.

It wasn't my intention to blurt out my most horrendous crime at that moment. But...word vomit has been known to plague me at times.

"I stabbed my Master. I think I killed him."

A/N: Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think and if I should keep writing it? xo