Chapter Three: The Great Escape

I ran to the only place I could think to go; I ran home. I really wanted to go somewhere else—anywhere else—but I'm not one of those lucky teenagers with a home away from home at my best friend's house or even one with a best friend for that matter. I just wish the run home would've taken longer, that way I would've had more time to clear my head, because all of these thoughts are whirling around in my brain and I'm not sure which one to pay attention to first. And then I saw the note, crisp and neat sitting on the kitchen counter.

Went out—be back later.

—Phil

"Went out?" "be back later?"—what person in their right mind would leave a note like that on his wedding day—and it's not even in his own handwriting! There's no way his chicken scratch magically transformed into elegant script that slip of paper. Something's wrong, because, if everything was fine, then I wouldn't have this feeling that he's not coming back; that's he's being kept against his will.

I guess it's really none of my business though. I'm not related to him; I don't know him well at all. Who knows what kind of skeletons he has in his closet or what sort of karma came and bit him in the butt. He's an adult; he can handle himself. It's not like the police are really going to believe me if I tell them a 28-year-old man has been kidnapped; people abduct children and teenagers—not adults. Plus, what evidence do I have? A gut feeling, my mere intuition—that's not the type of evidence they'll take seriously. It doesn't matter; he should be fine.

What I do know is: Renee is not getting married today. She's not getting married to Phil—pro. She's not happy because she's not getting married to Phil—con. Renee's shipping me off somewhere else; she doesn't want me—double con.

The sound of the front door interrupted my thoughts.

"Honey, I'm so glad you're here. I was worried that I was going to have to go looking for you, and I had no idea where I'd even start!"

"Yes mom, I'm here; for how long, I'm not sure, but I'm here." I sarcastically remarked.

She spuriously begged, "Don't be like that Bella—"

"Don't be like what mom—angry that you're getting rid of me for no reason, or upset that you won't tell me what's been upsetting you—and don't say Phil—he wasn't even in the picture when you started acting this way!"

"Acting what way?" She asked, but her face told a different story; she knew quite well what I was getting at.

"Why you're acting so secretive about everything! You don't explain anything to me when you know damn well that half the things you say to me call for some sort of clarification. I'm practically an adult; I think I have the right to know."

She paused, and her expression told me she knew I was right. "You shouldn't curse, Bella." She said, patronizingly.

"Is that really all you're going to say?" I asked, exasperated.

"I don't understand why I should tell you anything if you're going to continue to disrespect me." She said in defense.

"I'm sorry" I said, even though I wasn't. "But why—"

"It's dangerous here, Bella. People aren't all as nice as they seem." She warned.

"What, you're afraid some guy is going to kidnap or rape me? I have pepper spray; would it make you feel better if I carried a gun?" I asked sarcastically.

She scrunched her face at my distasteful attempt at humor. "Guns don't work on some people."

"Name one person who wouldn't be harmed after getting shot!" I challenged even though I knew she wasn't going to answer.

"It's settled Bella, you'll move to Forks and live with Charlie."

"I'm going to Forks? How can it already be settled? You just banished me less than an hour ago!" I objected

"Charlie adopted you while we were married. He's as much a legal guardian to you as I am."

"Yes, I know the technicalities, but why Forks, why now?"

"We've been planning for you to go to Forks for a while now, but I've had a hard time letting go of you. You're my only daughter after all."

"But what will I do there? Why can't I stay here?"

"You'll finish out your senior year there; you'll go to college. Everything will be okay"

"They'll never take me; the years practically up. I only have a few months left of school." I defended as if my being right about school would keep me here. Her mind was made up; I wasn't staying.

"They'll take you. Don't worry."

"Oh, I'm far from worried—"

"Good. Now, go pack; your plane leaves in 5 hours."

"5 hours? You've bought a plan ticket already?" I asked incredulously.

"Go pack." She sternly replied.

And so I did. After all, what choice did I really have?

I landed in Olympia by nigh fall. Charlie was waiting for me outside the gate slumped over in his chair; I wonder how long he's been there. He sprang up when he saw me emerge from the crowd—why are there so many people flying to Olympia anyway?

"Hey Bells, how was your flight?" He asked in a chipper voice.

"Fine" I replied as we grabbed my bags and made our way to his car. He has always been so genuinely nice that I felt guilty being rude to him. I mean, he didn't do anything from what I know of; he's just here being his regular old self. I can't blame him for that; I can't blame him for anything, but I do.

If he didn't exist, I wouldn't be here. If he didn't marry Renee, if he didn't legally adopt me, if he didn't consent to me moving here, then I'd be home safe and sound; everything would be normal.

Well, maybe not. Renee would still be secretive, I'd still have this migraine from trying to decipher her motives, and I probably wouldn't be in Phoenix. Well, I guess I'd better make the best of this, whatever this is. He parked in the driveway and we unloaded my stuff out of the car and brought it inside of his house.

"Which room is mine?" I asked with mild interest.

"Upstairs and to the right" He answered as he trailed behind me with the rest of my luggage. I dropped my bags by the door—my door—and he did the same and left with a quick "School's on Monday. Sleep tight." It's the little things like that that keep me from hating Charlie. You don't have to awkwardly ask him to leave or wait until he gets the hint; he just knows. He's considerate. I'm thankful for that. Almost as thankful as I am that tomorrow is Sunday; at least I'll have one day to myself before I become the new girl in school.

I looked around my room; it was nothing special. There was a desk with an ancient computer against one wall, a twin size bed against the other, and a window on the wall between them. I sat on the window sill and looked out at the backyard. The town of Forks is nothing like Phoenix.

After the first week, school was bearable again. In the beginning, I was the shiny new object that no one could get their eyes off of, but by the following Monday I was old news; I was grateful for that. It's harder to endure a place when it feels like everyone is looking at you under a microscope; I'd much rather blend into the background. I haven't made many friends in Forks. I'm not very good at talking to new people, and the people that were comfortable enough to approach me were only curious enough to get my story. What's your name? Where are you from? Why'd you move here? The same old questions asked a million different ways. It's like taking the same survey over and over again; the questions never change so you find yourself spicing up your answers in order to keep yourself entertained. What's your name? Natasha Wolfe. Where are you from? Transylvania. Why'd you move here? There were too many vampires who wanted to suck my blood.

That probably wouldn't have gone well; I bet they would have taken me seriously though. I stayed close to the basics, but I did once throw in something about being part albino; I'm pretty sure they believed it.

I got a part time job to pass the time, and Charlie was nice enough to get me a car; a heavily used old truck, but it still worked.

School passed, my birthday passed, and, to my disbelief, graduation passed. I didn't go to college; I didn't even apply. I used the money I saved up from my job to buy a crappy apartment out in the lower parts of Port Angeles to Charlie's dismay. He didn't want me to go. Who would cook for him? I know that's not the main reason he wanted me to stay, but I knew I couldn't.

I was 18; I needed to grow up so I got out and got out quick—too quick. I didn't know what I was in for when I moved to the city; I lived in Phoenix, which is a larger city than Port Angeles will ever be, but I never lived there alone. I shouldn't have gone out that first night there. I should have waited until the morning to go check to see if I unpacked everything from my truck and locked it. My truck would've been fine; it's nowhere near nice enough to rob. But I did go out, and that was a mistake.

AN: I completely forgot about this account/story, but I've reread it and I actually didn't hate the first two chapters I had written so I mapped out the story and cranked out this chapter. I beta'd this myself so hopefully It's not too grammatically incorrect.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters. They belong to Stephenie Meyer. This never happened; this is fanfiction. The title of this chapter belongs to Boys Like Girls.