Hey!

I wrote this this morning, (whilst, hurriedly finishing some late homework!)so sorry if it's a bit rushed or short. It explains more about Lucie's past.

THANK YOU all who reviewed my last chapter, and persevered through reading it all, this one's much smaller in comparison.

Tell me if I should carry on!

Here it is:

What happened last chapter:

"Oh, nothing, just something Alice said." I explained casually. "Oh, and do you know what Que vivra verra means? I think it's French, but I'm not sure." I looked back at him and felt my face fall fractionally, his expression had hardened, making him look almost, menacing. He didn't look at me, just stared at his hands, which were now balled into fists. He didn't reply either and for the first time since I'd sat next to him, I felt uncomfortable.

The bell rang.

Edward sprang to his feet and without so much of a goodbye and left the class room, faster than my eyes could follow.

What had I said?

***

The Inescapable Past.

The rest of that day pasted in a blur. My mind was whirring, my head still ached and I had a nagging feeling at the back of my mind, one that was close to dread.

I could still see Edward's face, it stuck there, in my mind burning my vision; beautiful, yet cold and hard. What had I done? I ran through the conversation again in my mind, but it didn't make sense, did it? I could only presume that he didn't like me being near Alice maybe, or perhaps it was the fact she'd spoken with me or…

It could have been anything. Lets face it, he probably just saw what I really was. A freak.

But that wasn't the only problem. There were others, much more pressing and disturbing. Like Angela's memories. They had all flashed so fast and quickly; but it was different, not like my normal visions- no, this one, it had been faster, more information, more detail, more of everything. Angela's childhood had been hard, much like my own in some ways, but so different in others. Her parents had divorced when she was a child, whilst my mother…

I cut my thoughts off there, not wanting to remember.

But, still there were more things, the passion she had had for Bella for example. That alone was so kind of Angela, again-I saw her memories of Bella Swan, frail and scared, Angela wasn't like Jessica. Not pushy, gossipy, obnoxious. No she was kind, thoughtful, and very caring. She'd cared for Bella when Edward left, helped her get together with…my memory struggled with the name. Russet skinned, lean, powerful-Jacob Black! I mentally shouted, yes, Angela had helped Bella, saved her from what could have been a life of misery.

And Bella had thrown all of that, back in her face.

Bella, when Edward had returned, had ignored Angela, left her for the-supposed other-friends-like Jessica. For some reason, I no longer liked Bella, I wasn't jealous of her, despite the fact that she had everything. No I was angry with her, cross that she had been so tactless towards Angela. So inconsiderate of her feelings. So rude and insensitive.

Abruptly I felt ashamed.

Who was I to judge Bella? To label her as inconsiderate and rude? Was I no better than Jessica, who gossiped and bitched about people. I wouldn't think of her like that, at least, not until I got to know her.

And then, there were the Cullens…

Alice; she alone was fascinating, the way she'd just helped me, called me her friend. Why, did she really mean it? I've never really had friends before today-not proper ones, and now all of a sudden I had two. Two lovely friends. Alice, so mysterious and intriguing, the liveliness of her spring, gracefulness of her walk. Again, the urge to use my gift passed over me, I wanted, no, needed, to find out about the Cullens, they almost had an aura around them, one which both seemed to lure others and repel them. Like a magnet turning, stuck between alternate poles, both attracting and repelling.

I got out of the car and walked into the house, boxes still littered the sitting room, which led into a small study, in which my father was situated.

"Hey, dad." I called throwing my bag onto the sofa, its contents spilling out.

"Hey, Lucie! Good day? Nice school?" said my dad, from inside the study, I walked into the cluttered room, now filled with various shelves and work benches.

"Yeah, it was great actually, every seems really nice." I said with enthusiasm, proud I no longer needed to pretend. My father looked up and his face was so sincere I was taken aback, I knew he wanted me to be happy, but now I could really see just how much it meant to him, how much he cared for my happiness.

"That's great sweet pea, really great, come over here, look at this" he said beckoning with a paint encrusted finger, he walked over to the other side of the study and pointed towards an easel, in which a canvas was placed.

"Dad! That's amazing! Wow! It's - just, wow!" I spluttered looking at his picture. It was a whirl of colours, mossy shades of green and blue, sky grey, yet filled with light and calm stream before a dense forest.

"it's ok I guess, I painted the view from this window see," he pointed out the view, an exact copy of the painting. "it still needs a bit of work, but I figure it'll get better with time, more weather conditions you know."

"Dad, it's great honestly! Don't be so modest, I'm really glad you've started painting again."

"Me too honey, Me too." he said before drawing me into a bear hug, I smiled as he hugged me, he was finally happy. Maybe the past really could be forgotten.

***

I ran into the dining room, the house was eerily quiet, silence filled the rooms.

"Mummy?" I called through the room, running as I went, today was the day, today I would tell her.

I ran into the kitchen, daddy was there, smiling as he painted a picture, a pretty one with butterflies. "Daddy? Where's mummy? I want to tell her something!" I said smiling, imagining the delight when she found out what I could do, I would tell mummy first, yes that was best!

But daddy was doing his puppy eyes again! I would tell him now, mummy later, daddy should know.

I ran over and sat in his lap, absently playing with my plaits as I told him what happened earlier at school.

Whilst I was telling daddy, mummy came in the room, carrying a tray, she had muffins! Muffins! I loved muffins, these were blueberry ones, yum!

I was about to tell mummy about my power, like I'd done to daddy, but he gave me an odd look, I knew what that look meant, he didn't want me to tell her. I frowned and went over to him, he placed me on his lap again and whispered in my ear.

"It'll be our special secret!" Yay! I was amazing at keeping secrets, and daddy was right, mummy might be cross, I would keep it a secret, no one else would know.

"What are you two whispering about?" said mummy, nibbling a muffin and smiling.

"Nothing!" both me and daddy trilled, hiding the smiles off our faces, and each taking a muffin.

I woke up. Sweat matted my forehead, and suddenly the tears overloaded me.

I could not suppress the memories of my mother now, they flew at me, hitting me again and again. That dream, it was a memory from my childhood, I'd had it when I was seven, it was the day I was going to tell my mother about my gift, one that- at the time, I thought was actually a power, one that made me special.

That happy memory, one that brought back lovely images of my mother, alive and healthy, could not stay in my mind, instead there was another memory. A terrible one, burning behind my tear filled eyes.

My mother hanging, suspended from a rope.

Her face lifeless, wiped of all emotion.

Her eyes white; unseeing.

Dead.

A sob erupted from inside me, low and forlorn, the tears continued to fall.

All my fault.

It had happened because of me, my mother had committed suicide because of what I could do. Because I was a freak. I was 15 when I finally gave up the secret, not realising the consequences it would unearth. I had seen my mother in the garden, and her past had flown at me. Crushing me as I stood in the porch.

It was not pleasant.

Her childhood was dark, an empty abyss that continued to cloud my mother's thoughts, I saw her: being abused by her father; shouted at by her mother. The shock of her past, all of her feelings and thoughts, had overwhelmed me.

I had gone to her crying, confessing, while she crooned me, a 15 year old girl, rocked me gently, sang me a song.

My mother's past had been dark, filled with deaths and sorrow, she had never wanted me to be part of it, for me to have ever known, what she had done.

My mother had killed her step father. It was self defence, an accident, I saw all this through her memories, saw how he'd run at her, brandishing a knife, pressing it to her skin…

She'd acted instinctively, hit him with a bottle, knocked him out cold. Knocked him down with a fatal blow. The moment I confessed this to her, told her I had seen her past, my mother had turned mad, that week she'd constantly washed her hands, stayed away from knives and avoided my father and I. I told her I knew she was innocent, that I still loved her; that I would always love her. But she didn't, couldn't, wouldn't here me.

Next week, my mother was found dead, in the shed, she'd hung herself, because of her past, because of my power. Because of me.

Eventually my tears dried up, I forced myself to get up off the bed, it's blankets strewn across and sheet twisted, I decided to have a shower, to clear my mind.

The hot water poured down me, I put it on full power, only then could I convince myself that the hot water running down myself was from the shower, not from my own tears.

Ok, I know that was a lot shorter, but, what did you think?

This is meant to give you more of an insight into Lucie's past, it's the reason why she hates her 'gift'.

PLEASE REVIEW!

I know it was kind of short, but I didn't want to write too much about her past, more on her present life.

Should I carry on? If so, please review, otherwise… there's no point!

Big thanks to any one who's reviewed so far, I really appreciate it!

REVIEW!

Lily: now, late for school.