AN: I do not own these characters. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters. I do though happen to own this particular universe in which they live.

I know it's been a long time since I've uploaded anything...and many of you may not want to read this unless I finish the other stories. At this time I can't promise I will— only because I haven't been inspired to finish them. Life got really hectic for me and with everything that has happened, I changed. I won't say I'll never update—but I will say at this time this story will be my focus. I am not giving up on those stories...I am just not yet ready to continue them. I do hope you all will at least give this one a chance. This story excites me because out of all the hundreds of stories I've read on here I have never read one like this particular one. Honestly, for the past four months, this story idea has been playing on a loop in my mind. I really hope you all enjoy it!

Introduction: The Return

BPOV

I didn't decide to come back home.

Everything in my bones told me not to. My mind turned over and over every reason why I shouldn't. My gut screamed every second of every day to never even think of returning to the place I once called home. My heart and hands let go of the people I once held onto and I never consciously decided to reach back out for them.

Yet, here I was—standing at the edge of town, wondering how the hell I came to be standing there.

I stared at the welcome sign for what seemed like seconds but as the sun rose and set, I knew it was hours. I knew my body must be tired, hungry and in need to be relieved but I couldn't feel anything. I was numb—I couldn't feel anything. Well, that isn't entirely true because I felt fear. I felt pure unmeasurable fear. All though hours raced by my green eyes didn't stray from that sign. They didn't blink, flutter or water.

'FORKS, WELCOMES YOU.' A part of me hated this sign because it now represented the people, I hurt…it represented everything I lost. Everything I left behind.

Hours later or quite possibly days later my legs finally began to move and without truly meaning to I was passing that welcome sign and walking into town.

I remember when I was a little girl I would stare out of the back window as our car past miles and miles of forest. I remember how it would seem like in the blink of an eye I'd finally see one of the only gas stations in town, and then more miles before we start to see houses—and then buildings that made up small businesses.

I remember looking at all of the houses with excitement because the more we passed the closer I was to being home. This walk my legs were currently unmindfully doing had the speed that can only be described as a snail's crawl and this trip was not filled with excitement. I felt my body start to become more alert with every step. Something I had shut off a long time ago seemed to be stemming from my stomach like a radioactive bomb. My body began to feel the true neglect I had done it and the closer I got to "home" the more I knew I was close to shutting down completely.

A car hunk snaps me out of my head and made my eyes focus on my surroundings. I looked away from the road in front of me and over to the white vehicle beside me. I knew he was coming. I don't know why this fact made me so exhaustingly angry, but it did. I knew I wouldn't make it home—I knew it. My body—my mind was waiting for this so that it could take its leave. Before I could even speak a door was opening and shutting and the man in uniform was rushing towards me. I know this man. This man knows me. No.

This man knew me.

"God, please…Bell is that you?" the rough voice of the man I once called father rings out and without my permission, my heart stutters because it hears the pain in his voice. Pain. That's what I've caused him—all of them. What I will undoubtedly cause the rest of them.

His arms wrap tightly around my shoulders like a snake's grip on its prey. My head is now somehow trapped in his chest. I think a part of him is hoping that with this vice grip of a hold I will not leave. I want to tell him that I won't leave him again. I want to tell him that I never meant to. I want to say so much, but my lips seem to be stuck together. "It's you…I can't believe it… h-h-how Bella, it's you—" His voice fades away in the distance and I know it's because my body is finally taking the rest, I didn't give it. My mind screams at my lips yelling at them to work. It's screaming that they need to speak—they need to protect. I know I have even less than a second to get out all that I need to get out, so I rush to tell him.

"Charlie—no-no hospitals. Don't… take…me."

– FOUR DAYS LATER –

"Billy, it's been days and she still isn't awake. I mean she hasn't so much as moved since she passed out in my arms. I-I-know she said no hospitals, but this isn't normal. The only reason I know she's not dead is because I can see her chest rise with every breath—" Although Charlie is currently downstairs and I'm upstairs laying in my old bed, I can faintly hear Billy's voice.

"Charlie, you need to try to remain calm—"

"DAMMIT BILLY… I-I can't be calm about any of this! My baby girl shows up in weird clothing looking like she's been locked away for the last three years but she…she still somehow doesn't look like my baby girl at all...don't you tell me to calm down!" It's silent for a beat and I know it's because Charlie realizes he may have been too loud. I can't blame him for freaking out. I can't blame him for anything.

"This isn't…. I don't understand how…I can't calm down. I can't."

I force myself to stop listening to their conversation. There is no point in eavesdropping because I know that no matter what is said there will not be a conclusion until I give answers. That is if I give answers. I raise my head and look around a room I hadn't seen in years. My room looks exactly how I left it and I don't know whether to be happy that Charlie didn't donate my stuff or sad that he just couldn't move on.

My body feels like I slept for months instead of days as I get out of bed and stretch. I think this may be because a part of me has been sleeping for months...years even. I look down at the giant shirt that's covering my body and the matching sweats that are at least four sizes too big. I can tell by the pine and ocean smell that they belong to Charlie.

I can't imagine he won't have questions about the several weapons that were hidden on me and in my previous clothes. Sigh. I can't know if it's safe to tell him the truth—but I do know I'm tired of lying.

I silently walk across the hall and look in the mirror. The bags that once took up a permanent home under my eyes are now gone. My green eyes seem to now be blazing and simmering all at once. My lips no longer look thin, cracked or chapped but look soft and full. My hair—my hair seems to be fuller and more beautiful than ever as it falls in deep sandy brown curls at my waist. One would think I had just left the salon instead of just waking up from a deep sleep.

Even I cannot deny the truth. That even I fall for this illusion—this trap. I am beautiful. I look away from my reflection because although there is absolutely nothing in my stomach I start to feel queasy.

When I make eye contact with myself again, all I see is resentment. "Breathe… breathe…breathe…breathe ….breathe…breathe…breathe." I close my eyes and remind myself of what my lungs should be doing automatically.

"Bells," Charlie is standing in the doorway looking at me as if I am both an angel and a demon before him. Well, he's not too far off. "Charlie—I—I can't…" I feel my eyes do something they haven't done in years—not since…his death. "I'm so sorry Charlie," I say as the tears finally spillover. He has me almost as quickly in his arms as he did days ago. "Bells, it's okay. I'm just—just glad to have you back."

I can't help but let out a sound that's somewhere between a laugh and a sob. A laugh because the simple fact is that even with everything he has gone through he still hasn't changed. Charlie was still a man of few words. He was still my dad. A sob because after everything he's gone through—everything they have gone through… I feared it had only just begun.

I couldn't allow myself to think about everything because at this moment the tears I had kept at bay for years were now spilling from me and into my father's chest. I cried for my father and his pain, for their pain, and for my own. I cried for the girl I once was, I cried for the woman I was—and also the woman I was foretold to be. I cried because the love of my existence was dead—and had been dead for years. I cried because there was no power in any universe to bring him back to me. I cried for the future that was stolen from us. I cried because he made me promise him not to join him. I cried because even though I was back home...nothing would ever be normal again. I cried because even with the knowledge of how much I had hurt my own father—I would still go back. I would do it all again. I would give everything up for him.

As my tears drenched Charlie's shirt, the clouds just like countless times before began to follow my lead and it rained down hard—and with every sob from my chest lightning roared louder, and louder.

AN:

Everything isn't what it seems...so stick around for all of the twists and turns. Weekly updates. See you soon! Please be safe everyone!

- Wutizlyfe