A/N: Happy Halloween!

Thanks to Ella and kitchmill for their help pre-reading and beta'ing. :)

I did add/change this after it was returned to me, so any mistakes you see are my own.

SM owns everything Twilight.

1-

Slamming the car door, I look up at my new home and I can't help but smile. This is the second thing I've bought—the first was a new car after my truck had died—with the money I've earned from my artwork, photography and the inheritance left to me by my Gran, who passed away when I was fourteen.

I didn't even realize my pictures were anything special, but one day, I was selling them in the park and someone offered me a hearty sum for it for my entire collection.

From there, it grew and grew. My first customer's friends admired my photos, then their friends, and their friends. It went on like this for months until I was offered a position at a prestigious gallery in Portland, Oregon that offered to showcase my pictures of landscapes and abstract images alike. I earned a hefty sum from the gallery displaying me, as well people buying the things they liked.

Now, my works are shown mainly in Portland, but a few other galleries have picked up a few pieces as well to sell to local businesses and private customers in Seattle and Olympia. With the money I have and the reasons that brought me here, I knew I had to put down my roots closer to home and find a place to settle … and I did just that. I found the perfect place for me.

My new home is a two story Tudor style home painted an eggshell white with dark brown beams all down the front, seeming like its hugging the frame of the structure. There are huge windows on the first and second levels, allowing an abundance of light to come through. The front yard looks a little dead, but with some new flowers and plants, it'll look brand new.

On the inside there is hardwood throughout, a huge living room with a stone fire place and a spacious eat-in kitchen with brand new stainless steel appliances. It has three bedrooms, one of which is a colossal master bedroom with attached master bathroom, complete with a vanity, jet tub and walk-in shower. It's a tad big for someone who is single with no pets or children, but when I first saw this place, I fell in love with it. There was something about it that drew me in and I had to have it. I wasted no time and immediately put a bid to buy. Two weeks later, I had a house in my name.

It wasn't as easy as it sounds though. The realtor I had gone to was evasive and never wanted to talk about this property. Every time I would bring it up, she would pretend like I was crazy and act as if the house didn't exist. It wasn't until I had been firm and told her I wanted information on the house that she finally gave in.

I was curious about why she was so reluctant to show me the house, but after overhearing a conversation with her boss about not wanting to let the house go, I surmised she must have been just as in love with it as I was.

I did feel slightly bad that I was taking the house from her, but I couldn't just let it go. It reminded me too much of my Gran's home here in Forks, where I spent my summers. I loved leaving my hometown of Seattle and heading toward the small town.

More than that, I loved spending time with Gran. Gran and I had a wonderful relationship. We would cook together, talk about everything and nothing and pour over embarrassing pictures of my father from his younger years. She was the only one I could talk to about anything without fear.

My parents don't know what I see in the town. They both hate it passionately. Personally, I think it's because the townspeople didn't go very easy on them when my Mom became pregnant with me at sixteen. But nevertheless, they despised it and as soon as they graduated high school, they left for Seattle and allowed me to visit for the summer.

After her passing, my parents didn't see the need for me to come here and refused to visit, even for a week, so my journeys to Forks stopped.

When my photographs took off, I moved to Portland. It was a little better than Seattle, but it held none of the fondness I had for Forks. A month ago, I decided I was done with fantasizing about seeing Forks again and made a plan to move here. I knew it wouldn't be the same without my Gran, but maybe I could feel closer and more at peace living in the town where she spent her life.

When I told my parents of my decision, they both tried to talk me out of it, thinking I would grow to hate the small town, but happily, I haven't grown tired of it yet. In fact, I love the slow pace and the fact that neighbors actually help you out when you need it.

I thought something like that only existed in movies.

My fingers play with the keys in my hand, excitement creeping up within me as I bring myself back to the present. This place is mine. Finally, after nearly a month of signing papers and waiting for them to go through, not to mention waiting for my new furniture and appliances to be delivered, this house is mine!

I release an uncharacteristic squeal and run toward the front door, eager to walk in. Slipping the key into the lock, I hear the soft click and push open the door.

What greets me is the sight of the bright neon lime green walls of the living room.

Yeah, I know.

It's the one thing I hate about the house, but that can easily be fixed. All I need is a can of paint and I'm good to go.

Earlier in the week, I had my furniture, along with a few new pieces, delivered with the help of my cousin, Leah. She seemed leery of coming here at first, but I suppose she was nervous about directing the movers in an unfamiliar house while I was working.

I walk through the house, making sure everything is in the right place and I'm thrilled that it is. The living room is set up just like I wanted, with the couch and television in the center and a writing desk in front of the window. The kitchen is sparkling with the new appliances and new cherry wood cabinets and rose colored tile, nestled in the nook that will overlook a garden come spring.

Upstairs, all the furniture is set up to my specifications as well. Since I'm living alone, I decided to turn the two extra bedrooms into my work areas. One bedroom will still be functional as a guest room, but it will also house my art supplies. The other room will serve as my dark room for my photos.

Letting out another squeal, I jump onto my new plush bed, already loving how it surrounds my body like a cloud. I know that come night, I'll sleep like a baby in this thing.

I should get to unpacking my clothes and the things from my apartment, but I want to lie here with this big goofy smile on my face a little longer. I continue to lie there until I realize that things need to be done and they aren't getting accomplished by me lying around. Eventually I start to rise from the bed, but a sound from the hallway stops me.

Faint scratching and creaking wood makes me jump up, my heart diving into my stomach. The door is wide open, so I should be able to see if anyone else is in the house, but I see nothing.

"Hello?" I call out, my voice breaking. My hands shake and my legs wobble, but I need to remain cool and assess the situation.

In response to my voice, I hear a muted growl and what sounds like mumbling coming from the hall.

With my heart pounding in my throat, I slowly creep toward the door and peek my head out, looking down the hallway both ways. I see nothing and decide to look around, just in case someone is in my house. Taking the mace out of my pocket that my father gave me last Christmas, I check every room upstairs, finding the attic door is locked. I jiggle the handle and push and pull against it, trying to get it open but it doesn't budge. Taking a closer look, it appears the door latch has been painted or glued shut.

Knowing that no one could have gotten in there without breaking the seal, I go downstairs, resuming my search. Like my search above, I find nothing. Outside, a dog barks and relief washes over me, causing a small laugh to escape. As I do, the sound of scratching emits again and once more, my heart lodges in my throat. I try to think about what could cause such a noise and wonder if there really is someone in my house. Then, the realtor's voice comes into my head, listing the disadvantages to this house when she tried to stop me from buying it. One of the things she mentioned was this was an old house that was recently renovated, so I figure it could have been the house settling.

Or rats.

Damn. I need to call someone out here to check, just in case.

Putting my mace back in my pocket, I get started on unpacking and putting things in their proper place. I put the television on for some background noise, thankful the cable guy came out the same day my furniture was delivered. Halfway through putting things away, my cell phone rings, and looking at the caller ID, I see it's my father.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Bella. Get everything unpacked?"

"Not quite."

"Hmph." He grunts. "Good luck with that. You know," he starts, but he's interrupted by my Uncle Billy.

"I'm going to miss you, girl! Your parent's cooking sucks, so come back soon! You know you love your Uncle Billy the best!"

I laugh as my Dad tells him to shut up or he'll put him out on the porch in the cold and eat in front of him while he's starving.

"Dad, that's terrible." I laugh, knowing he's just joking.

"Yeah, but he deserves it. I was thinking ..."

The hair on the back of my neck stands up and my skin prickles as gooseflesh stretches across my skin. My hands twitch and my feet automatically turn toward the door, my senses telling me to leave this area. Ignoring what my body wants me to do, I quickly scan the room, looking for what could be causing this reaction, but nothing can be seen. My hands start to tremor violently and my heart beats so fast, I'm surprised my father can't hear it through the phone. A cold sweat breaks out on my forehead and I swallow thickly to dislodge the heaviness and tightness I feel there.

"So what do you think?" Dad's voice asks, taking me back into the conversation.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"You okay? You sound funny."

"Yeah." I force out a laugh. The strange feeling slowly leaves me and I'm left with the adrenaline caused by it. "I just had a funny feeling."

"It's just because you're in a new place. Plus, you're in the big house all alone. That's a first for you. You've always either lived with me or with people nearby. Now, you're living by yourself and giving yourself the heebie-jeebies. I was like that too when I first bought this place."

"Yeah, that's probably it. So what were you saying before?"

"Well, now that you have that new place, maybe your Mom and I can come and see you. Maybe spend a few days."

"Really?" I ask, shocked he would suggest such a thing.

"Yeah, well, this is your first house. We can put aside old issues for that place and come visit," he hedges, his voice doubtful.

"I hope so. Is Mom there?"

"Yep. She's sitting with your Uncle Billy and Aunt Sue. Hold on."

There's shuffling through the phone and a second later, my mother's voice filters through.

"Bella?"

"Hey, Mom."

"Hi, sweetie. How is your trip going?"

I sigh. Every time I talk to her, she asks me this, like she doesn't believe I really moved here.

"Mom, I moved here. It's not a trip. I bought a house."

She huffs. "I don't know why you would want to live there, anyway. It's a small town, full of gossipers and nosy people!"

"We've had this conversation before, Mom. You know my reasons."

"I know. But there are plenty of small towns near your father and me too!"

"Yes, but Gran lived here."

Mom's tone softens. "I know she did. The two of you had a special relationship." She's silent for a moment. "Okay. I'll stop. You obviously like it, so I'll back off."

"Thank you," I reply, grateful. "You and Dad should come visit sometime. It's a beautiful house. Did you get my pictures?"

"We might come up sometime soon," she says, repeating my Dad's earlier reluctant words. "And yes, we got the pictures. It is a nice house. It reminds me of your Gran's."

"That's why I got it!" I laugh.

Mom laughs as well. "So I see. Wasn't your cousin Leah there too?"

"Yep. She didn't seem like she wanted to be here, though."

"Well, Leah has a lot of things going on. She's in a bit of a predicament."

"Oh? Is everything okay?"

"She's fine. Apparently, she's been 'seeing' quite a few boys … oh hell, I'm just going to say it. She's been sleeping around and now she's pregnant and doesn't know who the father is. My niece is a slut."

I break out in astonished laughter, a little surprised my Mom would refer to her flesh and blood in such a way, but then again, she's never been one to mince words. In the background, I hear Aunt Sue smacking her, telling her to watch what she says about her daughter.

"What?" she continues, talking to both Aunt Sue and me. "She is."

"Says the woman who got pregnant at sixteen," I deadpan.

"I never said I wasn't a slut. I was just that way with your father. I only had one lover. My niece, on the other hand ..."

I groan. "Okay, let's have a new topic. I don't want to think about you and Dad doing that. And before you say anything, I know how I got here, but no one wants to think of their parents that way."

Mom laughs. "All right, no more talking about that. Are you unpacked?"

"Not quite. I've been too excited to get anything done."

"I may not understand your choice, but I will tell you to enjoy these happy feelings. They're wonderful. Now, I'm going to let you go so you can unpack. Call us later, okay?"

"Will do. Love you, Mom."

"Your father and I love you too. Talk to you soon."

With the final parting word, we hang up and I resume unpacking. Everything is in its place after two and a half hours. I don't have enough items to completely fill my home; in some areas, it looks sparse, but over time I'll fill the empty spaces and make this a complete, comfortable home.

Because I've yet to make a trip to the grocery store, I'll have to settle on takeout. I place an order at the Chinese restaurant and get out a plate, silverware and a glass. While I'm waiting for my food to arrive, I relax on the couch and find something to occupy my time. I settle on a movie I've seen many times before and get comfortable.

Five minutes later, a shadow passes from behind me in the television screen and I jolt up, looking around frantically. I see nothing but lime green walls and furniture. I listen carefully, trying to hear anything abnormal, but all that can be heard is the television and my rapid breathing.

Walking around the couch, I take slow steps and follow the path I saw the shadow take. There are no other doorways in the kitchen or dining room except the wood paneled pantry and the back door which is still deadbolted. That only leaves the pantry, which I open with a shaking hand and gasping, shallow breaths.

A sigh of relief leaves me as I see the empty space. I lean against the wall for a moment, placing a hand over my chest and waiting for my erratic heartbeat to slow. Once I feel calm again, I make my way back to the living room, chuckling to myself.

I sit back down on the couch, wondering if my eyes are playing tricks on me. I am extremely tired from the amount of unpacking I did, so it's very possible that I could have been dreaming.

Realizing that's what it was, I get comfortable again on the couch but just as I do, the doorbell rings, causing me to gasp.

"Food." I laugh out, rising once more and retrieving my purse.

The delivery man seems fearful as he hands me my bag of food and I wonder if he's all right. It's raining slightly and rain makes drivers crazy for some reason. Maybe he was almost in an accident. Before I ask if he's okay, he's running off, jumping in his car and speeding away. I look after him in confusion.

My stomach grumbles, demanding to be fed, so I shut and lock the door, taking the bag of delicious smelling food to the kitchen. I pause in the doorway when I see the plate and silverware I left out earlier is now gone from the island and in an open cabinet, resting in their proper place.

Didn't I take those out? I could have sworn I did. Weren't they there when I came through here a little while ago?

I try to think if I saw the items on the counter, but my mind comes up blank. Perhaps I didn't take them out or in my tired and scared state I put them back without thinking twice about it.

Deciding to let it go, I retrieve the needed items for my dinner and dish it out, inhaling the aroma of sweet and sour pork with fried rice as I go back into the living room to relax.

I scarf down my dinner in minutes, feeling extremely uncomfortable at the amount of food I ate in such short time. I should have known I couldn't eat that much, but my eyes were bigger than my stomach, I suppose.

Taking my dishes back into the kitchen, I see everything is in the same place I left it, confirming that I probably put the dishes away earlier and didn't think about it. I quickly wash and put everything away so I can get to sleep because exhaustion is creeping up on me.

Checking the locks and turning off the television, I make my way upstairs, hearing a strange scratching sound coming from the wall as I walk.

"Damn it. I hope it's not rats," I say to myself.

The scratching stops as soon as the words leave my mouth, but that doesn't put me at ease. They probably were frightened by the sound of my voice.

Near the fridge, I write down a reminder to call an exterminator to come out and look at the house tomorrow. Hopefully the sounds I'm hearing are due to an old house, but a feeling deep in my gut tells me it's something else.

8*8*8*8

"Mom, I'm trying to sleep," I grumble into my pillow as her fingers comb through my hair, trying to rouse me from sleep. She doesn't stop her gentle movements, keeping up the soft brushing of my hair with her fingertips. "Mom, leave me alone. I'm tired."

The movement continues and I start to turn over, getting ready to plead for a few more minutes of sleep when two things happen simultaneously; I feel a sharp jerk of someone pulling my hair and remember I'm not staying at my parent's house. In fact, I haven't stayed there in over six months. My eyes pop open and I shoot up in bed, my eyes looking around wildly. I know I had felt something or someone touching my hair.

Frantically, I shove my hands in my hair and shake, trying to dislodge the bug or whatever else had been crawling on me. I wince when my fingers hit a particularly sore spot, but continue looking. When I come up empty, I search the bed and floor, coming up empty. I sit back against the headboard, confused and groggily staring at my open closet.

Did I leave that open?

The scurrying sound I heard last night echoes throughout the empty bedroom and I shiver in disgust, hopping up from my bed and running into the bathroom. I'm now sure I have the one thing I didn't want to have. Rats.

After quickly showering, I grab my cell phone and purse, locking up the house behind me and heading toward the diner. I take a seat and place my order, taking the time while it's cooking to call an exterminator.

I talk to three different people and they all rush out that they have a busy morning and hang up when I tell them the location of my house. I sit back stunned, as Dora, a waitress that's worked here forever, slides my food in front of me.

"What's wrong?"

"I can't find an exterminator. Everyone is all busy."

"Really?" she questions, looking just as stunned as me. "That's odd. Maybe it's the location of your house. Where are you living again?"

"The Tudor on Hunters Court."

Dora's face pales. "Oh. Yeah, I forgot," she says, laughing a little nervously. She composes herself and smiles. "It's the location. It's in a weird spot for zoning and competitive territory, you know. Try Port Angeles. It's an hour drive, but they're known to come out here."

Taking her advice, I call the first number I find and I'm relieved to hear that someone will be out later this morning.

"Thanks for the tip, Dora. Someone's coming out in a bit, so I need to get going," I say, paying my bill.

"No problem," she answers, putting my money in the register. "Be careful in that house, okay?"

I stop myself from going out further and stand in the doorway, confused by her choice of words. "What do you mean? Is there something I should be afraid of?" I ask, laughing slightly.

Dora gives me a tight smile. "No. Just … be careful."

"I will. See you later, Dora."

I wave goodbye and head toward my house to wait for the exterminator. In the living room, I notice the picture frames I placed along my bookshelves are on the floor or lying face down on the top, seemingly knocked over. I scan the area, looking for some kind of sign of what could have knocked them over, but I don't see any droppings from rats or animals and the window isn't open, so it wasn't the wind that knocked them down.

Straightening the photographs, I examine them, grateful and relieved that none of them appear damaged. Some of these can't be replaced, so I'm so thankful they're okay.

There's still a bit of time to kill before the exterminator is expected, so I grab a book and collapse on the couch. I should be upstairs putting together my photographs, but I like to take my time and lose myself in my art. With someone coming to the house, I'd lose my flow and get frustrated, so I'm not going to even bother starting.

BANG!

I jump, my book falling heavily on the floor. My heart races in my chest, matching my erratic breathing. My eyes are trained on the ceiling above me—my bedroom, where the sound came from. I don't know what I'm waiting for; perhaps it's x-ray vision so I can see through walls.

Slowly, I start up the steps and head into my bedroom. Like my photos downstairs, the contents of my beside table have been knocked—no, thrown—onto the floor. Nothing that falls onto the floor could make such a loud noise.

I look all around the room, seeing nothing else out of place or disturbed. Just trinkets and the two photos of my parents and Gran.

From my closet, I hear the familiar sound of scratching and inch my way toward the closed door, preparing myself for the creatures to run out and start biting at my ankle like a bad horror movie. Just as my hand touches the knob, a loud knock from the front door sounds and I jump, startled once more.

Running down the steps, I throw open the door and see the surprised face of a man with short dark hair and hazel eyes.

"You scared me!" he exclaims, his voice deep.

"Sorry," I say, out of breath. "Thank goodness you're here. I just heard the rats in my closet."

"Looks like I came just in time, then! Name's Emmett."

He holds his hand out and I shake it. "Bella." I let him in and watch as he wipes his feet before entering.

"Nice to meet you. I better get started, so I'm going to go and look around upstairs, see if I find anything."

I nod and he disappears up the steps. I hear him moving around and opening doors, talking to himself every now and then, but nothing else. Almost half an hour later he comes down, frowning slightly.

"Do you have a key to the attic?"

"No. It wasn't given to me when I bought the place, so I figured I didn't need it. Why, do you think there are rats up there?"

Emmett shakes his head. "Honestly, I don't think you even have rats. I haven't seen leftover food, bite marks or droppings anywhere. I'll check the rest of the house to be sure, but I'm thinking you don't have a rat problem."

I frown in confusion. How can I not have rats? I know I've heard them in the walls, scratching and moving around. There's no way I could mistake that.

"Well, I've checked," Emmett says, coming into the room forty minutes later. "No rats."

"How is that possible? I've heard them!"

Emmett shrugs. "I don't know what to say, but it's not rats or mice. It could be the house settling. This does appear to be an older renovated home. They creak and groan, you know."

"Yeah." I had thought about that, but I know that's not what I heard. "Thank you, Emmett."

He flashes me a big grin. "You're welcome. If you have any further problems, don't hesitate to call!"

I walk him out and wonder what the hell is going on in my house.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed it!

There are three more chapters left, and they'll be posted throughout the day. ;)