Forgive me if the story seems to be going slow, but it will pick up speed in the next chapter. I'm just trying to 'set the scene' so to speak before I get into the fun things ;)

Happy reading :)

Chapter 2:

Going through my mother's belongings was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. Her clothes still had the smell of smoke and strawberries -my moms favorite shampoo. The furniture has been sold, the last of the bills paid, and after putting all of her worldly possessions in my trunk the only thing left is to do a final sweep of the place. Every room holds a memory. Every nick, every beer stain...what am I going to do? I look around and I see I haven't missed anything. I shut the door, hand the key to the landlord and drive to the motel a few blocks over. I'll figure out what I'm going to do from there.

Sitting on a dirty motel mattress is definitely never where I saw my life heading. If the thought ever did enter my mind though, it was because I had finally sunk low enough to sell my body to make up for my mothers bad habits. Well, at least I can say I never did any dealings in dirty motels. I guess this whole experience has taught me this at least; never expect anything to go as you planned it. Life has a way of putting a wrench in that plan.

The only thing I have with me is a locked box I found in my mothers closet and my purse. On my way up to my room I saw a janitor with a pair of bolt cutters. While his back was turned I had swiped them from the cart he was pushing and quickly made my way to the motel room door.

I look at the box now with determined and confused eyes. I saw the bolt cutters as a sign to let go of my fears and open it. I knew it had to be something she didn't want me to see. Why else would she lock it up. She leaves almost everything out in the open for me to see, drugs included. What could be so important.

I was worried that it wouldn't be as easy to cut the locks as they made it seem on Tv. So I was surprised when the lock easily broke off the latch. I guess I was stronger than I looked. I couldn't stop the smile that spread on my face, but it seems reality felt the strong need to put me in my place.

As I cut the locks the force of it propelled the box right off my lap and right on to my already twice stubbed toe. First tripping on my way out of the apartment, then falling up the stairs in my attempt to flee the janitor and now this. I'm such a wreck.

With the contents of the box spilled mouton the floor I was met with shock and even more confusion. My grandmothers necklace! The same necklace I thought mom sold for cocaine. I couldn't believe my eyes. It only took me a second before I grabbed it and put it around my neck. This is definitely a miracle that I needed today. Then I saw a bag of marijuana and ecstasy - sadly that was not a surprise. Next was a big role of hundred dollar bills!

I can't even imagine the amount that it is. I promise my self I will count it later so that I can get a better look at the rest of the contents. That is where it gets confusing. Its a stack of letters. The one on top doesn't have an address so I look through the rest of them and find they all only have one name. Charlie Swan. Forks, Washington.

Why did dad write so many letters to mom. The only time I thought he contacted us was when he called on my birthday. I took a better look at the address labels and saw that he wasn't writing to my mom...he was writing to me. I am an emancipated minor so I am not required to be under anyone's custody, but maybe I should at least visit him and see what happens.

He may not want me but at least I wouldn't have to live with the 'what its '. Now I just need to get a flight from phoenix to forks. I hate to wish for things knowing that there's a very good chance it wont happen, but I hope that this can be my chance to finally have a place where I belong.

After using the computer downstairs I saw the next flight to Seattle was the next morning at 5:50 am. I used my debit card to reserve my seat and then printed my tickets off on the printer behind the desk.

"Excuse me miss", I said to the receptionist. "Is there a shuttle to the airport anytime tomorrow "?

She turned to me with a bored expression on her face. "There is one at midnight, 3 am, 6 am - and every three hours after that ".

To end her sentence she gave a resounding pop of her gum and returned to the people magazine she had been reading. She seemed to hate the fact that she had to speak to anyone, but in her defense it was almost midnight. People tend not to be at there cheeriest at that hour, from working so many night shifts I should know.

I returned to my room to take a shower and get all of my belongings together. I wanted to make sure I had everything was in order. Not just to satisfy my OCD tendencies, but to keep myself busy. By the time all that was finished it was only 1am. I sit at the edge of my bed staring at the clock wondering what else I could do. It was too late to sleep, even if I was able to. I considered calling my dad but I was still in shock from finding the letters. Should I call the police station or his house? I obviously can't call him before 6 am on a Sunday, but should I call him when I land? Should I even call him at all?

I take a few deep breaths and try to prevent the panic attack that is looming over me. By the time I have managed to calm myself down I see that its 2:30. Finally! Now I can get my bag and head downstairs. I was lucky enough to either sell or give everything away except for a few necessary items, so at least I don't have to worry about checking any bags.

I make my way towards the door and as I turn off the light without a second glance at the room and run outside to wait for the shuttle.

"Slowdown! This is not a track field"! I guess that receptionist hasn't improved her mood at all.

"Sorry", I yell back. I waited for 20 minutes before the driver pulled in. It was only me waiting for the shuttle so when he stepped out of the bus and saw that I had no luggage for him to carry he helped me to my sit and began to drive to the airport.

"You must have an early flight miss". He looks at me using the mirror at the front of the shuttle and smiles. I hope everyone will be this kind.

"Yeah, I have a flight to Seattle at 5:50 am".

"That certainly is early. And you're going all by yourself? You have someone waiting for you in Seattle, don't you"? His concern was touching, and since I didn't want to worry him I lied.

"Don't worry about me. I have someone that I'll be seeing soon".

"Who is that"? A week ago I thought the only family I had in the world was my mom, but now...

"My dad. I haven't seen him in awhile". for some reason I began to get the same feeling I had when I was at work. When I saw shadows out of the corners of my eyes and when I walked Helen to her room, only to find her lifeless body laying in her bed.

He had now stopped the bus and was helping me out when he suddenly grabbed my hand. "You're going home now. Don't be afraid of what's to come. You're family will help you".

Everything he said reminded me of what Helen said right before I got the call that my mom died. I also noticed that his eyes were more cloudy than they were when he helped me into the bus. Helen's eyes were like that too but at the time I just assumed it was the cataracts. Now I'm not so sure.

He then shook his head and when he opened his eyes I saw the calming blue iris that I had first seen. "Have fun in Seattle miss"!

As I walk through check ins, security and finally arrive in the terminal I wait for my section of the plane to be called. I wanted to tick off something from my bucket list, so I bought first class tickets instead of coach. Its only a three hour plane ride but with the money I found in my moms locked box.

The whole experience was new to me, like riding in an airplane. Receiving first class treatment was not something I was used to. As I stepped into the airplane and sat in the plush first class seats everything began to fade into the background. I felt like everything around me was going in slow motion but all the while the hours were passing rather quickly.

Breakfast was being served on a silver plate, pillows and blankets were being passed out, and all I could think about was how I was going to handle seeing my dad for the first time. I have yet to decide whether I should call him or not. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to get up the nerve and leaving after I even see him. What if I call and he says that I he doesn't want to see me?

In the end I chose to not call him. I would go to forks and at least see his face before I made my decision. I deserve that closure.

I'm now in Seattle. I have stepped off the plane, out of the airport, into a cab and I am on my way to forks. No turning back now.