I just realized that i forgot to put the disclaimer on the last chapter. but i think it goes without saying that i do not own twilight. i only own the plot. so from here on out, just know if i forget to put this damned disclaimer, i dont think i own twilight. im just very forgetful.

P.s This chapter is dedicated to KyraxAsuka, my faithful reader. Kyrax if youre reading this i hope its up to par. :)

Chapter 3

Buck up! It's not that cold.

Unsurprisingly it was cold out as I quietly crept out of La Push at that late hour. Or was it early? I really had no idea. Either way I knew I was freezing. Why did I decide to do this, again? Plus I felt like a weird creeper for walking down the streets in the middle of the night. What happens if someone drove by? Would they stop? Someone was sure to recognize me. Then I'd have to explain to them why I was walking down the street and they'd take me back to Jake's and he'd-

Oh for gods sake will you shut up. Stop whining. You know why you're doing this. So buck up and put one foot in front of the other. It's not like you haven't walked from your house to La Push before. This is only backwards. So shut up and keep walking.

Once again the voice inside my head was making more sense than I was. I was complaining. I knew I had done the right thing. But still, why did it have to so cold out?

Because, you idiot, its Forks. Just be glad it isn't raining as well.

Trust me, I am very glad for that fact.

Suddenly I was standing in front of my old house. My inner ranting must have lasted longer than I thought.

For a second I just stood there and stared. My truck, the one Charlie had bought for me, sat in the driveway-thank goodness I had thrown my keys in my bag.

But it wasn't the truck I was staring at. It was the house itself. Charlie had bought this house years ago and he had never changed it. Sure he fixed a few things here and there but it was always basically the same. I remember thinking I was going to hate living here when I first moved in but it soon became my home. Forks became my home.

But now as I stared at my home I felt alienated. It didn't look a thing like my home. Like the home I once shared with my father. Parts of the wall were burnt and there was yellow crime scene tape across the front door. The windows were dark (the only light came from a small front porch light) and no life was visible. This place was a place of death. It was no longer the safe home I loved so much. Now all it represented was demise-both mine and Charlie's.

I couldn't stand there any longer. I knew I had to go inside. If anything just to say goodbye. I placed my bag on the ground and dug through it for my keys. Finding the one to the house I slowly walked up to door. Careful not to disturb the yellow tape, I slipped the key into the lock and pushed. The door opened easily to reveal the entry hall. The carpeting was only slightly charred here. With caution I walked in. Glancing to my left I looked into the living room. I saw the chair where Charlie always sat. A can of beer in hand, a Mariner's game playing on the television. I saw the couch were I sat countless times to do homework. Where I had watched hundreds of movies with Jake. Where barely a year ago I had watched a movie with a different guy that turned out to be the bane of my existence. On the wall were old school pictures of me that I remember begging Charlie to take down hundreds of times. Laughing a little at the memory I turned to my right. The kitchen was the same. Everything was virtually untouched.

By passing the hallway I hurried up the stairs, miraculously I didn't trip once, and entered what was once my bedroom. Not bothering with memories I went to the closet and pulled out the two large duffel bags that were crammed in the back. These were the duffel bags I had come to Forks with and they would be the once I would leave with. How ironic!

I packed most of my clothing, only leaving the few things that didn't fit anymore or I knew I'd never wear again. I didn't know where I was going so I took both warm and cool clothing. Better to be prepared.

Charlie used to say that. He was always so prepared. Why, why couldn't you be prepared for what happened? I knew the answer but my inner voice answer anyways. Because he didn't know what he was up against. I sank to the floor in the middle of the room and just sat there. I didn't think. I didn't feel. If I was going to do this I couldn't let my emotions to rule my life. Better to nip them in the bud before it was too late and I did something reckless. It wasn't that I didn't love Charlie. I did. I may not have called him dad but I did love him. No matter what he was always my father and he was always the one that took care of me no matter what. I did, do!, love Charlie. I just can't feel my emotions just yet. I had too much to do, too much at stake. Maybe someday I would finally be able to cry but today was not that day.

After I had composed myself I got up off the ground. As I shifted my weight I heard the floor creak. That's funny. I don't recall my floor creaking before. I moved aside and felt the wood paneling. It was loose. That was strange. I pulled it a little harder and it soon gave away. I don't know why I did it and as soon as I saw what was underneath I wish I hadn't done it. But a part me was glad I did. Inside was everything he had hid from me. My pictures, my scrapbook, my CD. It was all there. I thought he had taken them but I guess he couldn't bear to keep the stuff. I pulled everything out one by one, refusing to remember everything. I had closed that whole long ago I wasn't about to allow it to open again. Especially when I was working so hard to keep my emotions under check.

No matter how I felt about him, about them, I count leave this stuff here. In a way it was nice to have these reminders. Without a second thought I shoved them into my bag and went back to packing. Once I had everything I would need I dragged the bags into the hallway, careful not to look at the charred carpets and burnt wood. I went into the bathroom and gathered whatever toiletries I had in there. Everything went into the duffel.

I took one last glance around upstairs. My eyes drifted to the part of the hallway I had been determined not to look at. It was the door at the end of the hallway, if you could even call it a door anymore. Parts of it were completely burnt, leaving holes, and other parts were chared. Only specks of white paint still stood out among the black. As if on their own accord my feet began to move towards the door. I couldn't think. I couldn't feel. All at once I stood in front of the door and, again on its own, my hand moved to the knob. I twisted it slowly and pushed open the door to reveal a room. I walked into the middle of the room. No, I didn't walk. It was as if I was drifting like a ghost. A ghost of myself. I entered the scene where I had all happened. Practically everything was burnt beyond recognition. The frame of the bed was still there but the table that once stood next to it was a pile of ash. But it was the closet that caught my attention. The doors that once stood in front of it had been wood so they were gone but something drew me towards it. There hanging on a single hanger among charred clothing and ashes was a single flannel shirt. I pulled it off the hanger and hugged it to my chest. It smelled like Charlie. Like pine and aftershave with a hint of fish. Not a good combination but it fit him. Still hugging the shirt something else caught my attention. There, in the corner of the closet, was a shiny silver safe. Kneeling down, I reached for the combination lock. I tried Charlie's birthday, my birthday, out phone number, even our house number. Nothing worked. Suddenly it hit me. I should have smacked myself for how stupid I was. Dialing in the numbers I pulled the safe open. It was my parents wedding date, a fact that only proved how much Charlie was not over Renee.

Inside, underneath the standard birth certificates and insurance papers, were pictures. On the top of the stack were my parents. Renee was wearing a floor length white dress, Charlie a suit. Underneath that there was a picture of a very pregnant smiling Renee. The next was a picture of Charlie with a baby me in his arms. The pictures went on and on. There must have been at least twenty of them there. Each one was a reminder of happier times. I pulled everything out, shut the safe, gathered the papers, pictures and shirt up, and left the room.

I put everything in my bags and brought the bags downstairs. Before I reached the door, one of the bags bumped into something. It was a coat rack. But something made me stop and stare at this coat rack. There was nothing special about it. It was just a run of the mill coat rack. But, right there hanging on it was my father's badge and gun. I reached out and ran my fingers over the cool metal of the badge that read Chief Swan. In this little piece of metal was everything my father stood for. In a way this little piece of smooth, engraved metal personified my father. I stood the badge off of the gun belt and slipped it into my pocket I picked up my bag and left the house. I went as silently as I came.

There you have it. I hope you liked it. Review please. -Essie...