Chapter 3 - Free as a Bird

EDWARD.

I found myself half smiling as I wound my Volvo around the snaky road leading to Forks, Washington. My hometown. Despite the green clinging to everything I could see, I felt a strange sense of freedom and relief, something I didn't often feel when growing up in the small town.

Knowing that I was running from my problems didn't eat me alive like I initially thought – I felt a strange sense of hope. The adult part of me realized there was no running from my thoughts, that at some point I would have to drag them out of the vault I had created and deal with them head on. But at the moment the green walls of the Olympic Peninsula and its usual cover of gray cloud cushioned me, creating an escape from the real world.

At my parent's suggestion, I was headed to their holiday home just outside of Forks.

"We love you darling," my mother had said as she pressed the keys into my hand. After their intervention, I had agreed to pick up the house keys first thing the next morning before driving the four hours to my destination.

"Now, go and do what you have to do," she said, giving me a little squeeze. "Be safe."

It was nearing dusk as I entered the town – the town in which I had lived until I moved to Seattle for college at the end of high school. I turned off the main road into a side street, driving to the small Thriftway to pick up a few necessities. I promised myself that I would do a proper shop the next day.

I picked what I needed and headed to the checkout, dumping my items on the counter before fumbling for my wallet. The middle-aged woman gave me a strange look, but didn't say anything. I guessed seeing a new face in Forks must have been as much of a novelty now as it was just under a decade prior.

I then headed out to my car, putting my bags in the trunk before starting the engine and heading the way I had come, attempting to find the small dirt road turnoff to the house. After missing it once, I doubled back, finally turning onto the long and winding driveway lined by huge trees. As I started to wonder whether I was in the wrong place, a large house materialized in front of me, sitting in the middle of a large clearing. The three-story home was magnificently restored. I laughed, putting the pieces of the puzzle together as I remembered Esme had often talked about spending weekends down this way when I was at college. She had been obsessed about this place. A tiny niggle in the back of my mind suggested I was missing something, but I pushed it aside almost as quickly as it appeared.

I sat in my car for a moment, taking it all in as I sighed in relief. This escape was exactly what I needed.

I woke up the next morning feeling incredibly refreshed. As I quickly splashed some water on my face, I noticed a thin layer of stubble on my jaw. I smiled to myself – stubble only meant two things. Either I was too busy to bother with personal hygiene, something that struck me often after an excruciatingly long shift at the firehouse, or it meant that I was in vacation mode. It was definitely the latter, I decided.

I slowly padded downstairs and switched in the TV. Making my way to the kitchen, I yanked open the fridge and pulled out the ingredients I needed to make a full cooked breakfast. This day was starting to look mighty fine.

I inhaled the food, deciding I would go into town that morning to visit the hardware store, Thriftway and bookstore. After all, I was going to need something to occupy myself while I was here and fixing the weathered paint on the back porch was the least I could do to thank my parents for letting me use the house.

The drive into town was peaceful, a sensation I hadn't felt in quite a while. I relished in it. Seeing the familiar buildings in daylight brought back a wave of memories, which tugged at my heart in a strange manner, not knowing how it made me feel.

I grabbed extra groceries and a tin of paint before strolling towards the bookstore. As I paid for my purchase, I couldn't help but notice a paperback with a blue background sitting on the best sellers shelf behind the cashier. What caught my eye next made me gasp audibly, causing the young woman processing my purchase to look up. In silver letters at the base of the cover was the name Isabella Swan. I knew, like the rest of the world, that her debut novel had been highly successful. But somehow, seeing it in the bookstore I knew she had frequented for her entire childhood and teen years made me feel a pang of something I couldn't pinpoint.

I imagined the arguments she must have had with her publisher regarding the name on the cover. She had always hated being called Isabella, preferring to simply be called Bella. The thought made me feel the need to laugh hysterically and hyperventilate at the same time. I hadn't thought of Bella in months.

As the cashier handed me my purchase, I almost tore it out of her grasp, sprinting out of the shop, feeling the sudden need for fresh air.

Bella, Bella, Bella, my mind reeled as I quickly walked down the street to where I had parked my Volvo. I needed to get back to the house, away from the town that reminded me of the one I lost.

Rounding the corner, I saw a strangely familiar head of mahogany hair bobbing in the crowd. I ran my hand over my face – hell, now I was seeing things. Was I going crazy? Perhaps events of the fire emergency had hit me in more ways than one…

"Basically half the world is brunette, you idiot," I muttered to myself.

I unlocked the car and hopped into the drivers seat, reminding myself to inhale and exhale at regular intervals. I was panicking.

I needed Jasper – his calming influence always allowed me to come out the other end of our chats with my head relatively in order. As I parked the car in the garage, I pulled out my phone, immediately noticing there were zero bars of reception. Dammit.

Closing the garage door, I noticed treacherous rain clouds advancing over the horizon. It was a sign I knew all too well, bracing myself for the storm.

BELLA.

The green blur sped by me as I carefully drove my small car around the bends. The last thing I wanted to do was get caught speeding by my own father. I laughed to myself, marveling at how my two-door hatchback itched to race around the corners – the old red truck I had driven throughout my junior and senior years of high school would have broken down at the thought.

Only a few months ago, I had sadly given up coaxing it into starting every morning and sent it to truck heaven after a very long and happy life. While I had been embarrassingly distraught at the time, I was extremely grateful now – my truck wouldn't have made it this far without needing to take a breather along the way.

As I turned up the song that was playing on my iPod, the 'Welcome to Forks' sign whoosed past me. Finally, I was home. Despite the ups and downs of my high school years, the cloud-covered town was where I had spent the majority of my life and experienced, what I considered to be, some of the best parts of my life.

I had met my best friend Alice in the lunch line at Forks High only a couple of days into my sophomore year. As I witnessed her pick up an order of the cafeteria special, I had jumped to her rescue, advising her not to eat it under any circumstances – EVER.

We were the complete opposites. She was bright and bubbly, pulling off style and grace with ease. I was more of the quiet type, attempting to stay as inconspicuous as possible – though with my lack of coordination and with Alice at my side, I'm not sure why I bothered. We still had basically the same friendship dynamics at the present, though I considered myself to be less of a hermit – Alice had rubbed off on me.

While, as expected, not all my memories of my teen years in Forks were happy – namely one in particular which shall not be named – it was where I had finally grown into myself. Coming back was a breath of fresh air. Literally.

As I pulled onto the lawn in front of my familiar childhood home, Charlie flung open the front door and walked down to where I had parked.

"Bells!" He greeted me, giving me an awkward side hug as he took the heavy luggage from my hand. "How was, er, your trip?" He asked, looking suddenly embarrassed at his uncharacteristically enthusiastic welcome.

"It was good, Dad. Not one near miss or ticket," I joked, receiving an unamused grunt from Charlie.

As we walked towards the house, I noticed it hadn't changed one bit. In a weird way, this fact completely comforted me. I was still a little uneasy about this whole spontaneous decision, mostly about whether it would actually work, but the positivity of seeing Charlie made it seem a little less daunting.

"I ordered us some pizza for an early dinner," Charlie informed me as we entered the house. "Thought you might be hungry after your trip." He stood in the middle of the kitchen, suitcase still in hand.

"Thanks, Dad," I reached to take my bag from him, not wanting to be standing aimlessly in the kitchen.

"I was thinking you should stay the night," Charlie said, breaking the short silence. I smiled to myself, noticing that even after not living with him for seven years, silences with my Dad weren't awkward. They were simply pauses. We hadn't exactly been a loud bunch – a cop father and his teenage daughter living in Forks. "It would be better to get to the house in daylight. That way you won't have to fumble around in the dark finding things."

I inwardly laughed at his concern, but agreed to the proposal. I hadn't been to the house since just before leaving for college and, while I knew the basic layout, I would still need to become reacquainted with everything. Considering my lack of dexterity, it would most likely be easier once the sun was up. That, and the fact I was sure the water and electricity would have been turned off. Locating the fuse box and figuring out how to get the dammed thing on would be a task in itself, let alone while trying to hold onto a torch.

And in the rain, I added to myself as I heard the beginnings of a downpour on the roof.

"Sure thing. I'll just take this bag to my room and then we can eat when the pizza arrives, okay?" I offered.

"Sure, kiddo," said Charlie as he clobbered over to the old sofa, switching on the TV as I climbed the stairs.

As expected, my room hadn't changed one bit, memories assaulting me as I placed my suitcase on the floor. Turns out running away from your problems never succeeds – at one point or another, they'll catch up with you.

A/N: As always, what did you think? What did you love/hate?

I enjoyed writing the Bella and Charlie scene - I love the dynamic between these two.

As always, thanks for reading!