A/N: I had trouble writing this. Really. It was beyond impossible to begin the chapter. I must've deleted the whole thing two times over before settling on one.

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight, now or ever.

Chapter 1

Fire

Light trickled through the dense branches above. She whirled around, hearing a silent call, and felt a pang of despair when she didn't see anyone. She stepped forward cautiously, the dead leaves rustling against her bare feet.

"Mum? Dad?" she called, hoping for an answer. She sped up, walking quickly until she stumbled over a fallen log. She tripped and caught herself, landing on all fours. She looked up, tears building in her eyes.

A tall, gnarled tree stood in the middle of a clearing, seeming out of place. The black branches curled out to her, beckoning sinisterly. Against her will she walked towards it, one hand stretched out as if to touch the blackened trunk.

It burst into flames.

- - - - -

Bella shot upright in her bed, gasping for breath and sweating buckets. Her lids were open only halfway, suspended between reality and her subconscious. She lifted her hand to wipe the sweat away; she was met with a resistance. Bella looked down and saw, not without relief, her hands cuffed to the sides of the bed. She tested her legs gingerly and winced. The ropes she had used to tie herself down had burnt into her skin.

Sighing, she wriggled her hands experimentally before leaning over and untying the knots with her teeth. Soon her hands and feet were unsecured. She got up and stepped onto the cold tiled floor, padding to the showers quietly. Once there she turned on the tap and let it douse her completely, hissing when the cold water hit the rope burns.

After the shower she shook herself off and walked out, ignoring the wet footprints she left behind. She stopped at the kitchen doors, hesitating. Goosebumps prickled on the back of her neck, and ignoring the strong sense of foreboding in her stomach, and pushed open the door a crack and peered in.

A gust of hot air billowed at her.

"Rehnquist," she cursed silently, and took off down the hall, pounding on every door she saw. The first person to come out was a pretty seventeen year old on the brink of adulthood named Violet. She looked at Bella curiously, and she pointed at the kitchen, mouthing what her vocal chords refused to say.

She didn't seem to understand, though, and she walked to the kitchen, pushing open the door. Bella sighed mentally. Will nobody learn how to lip-read? She wondered.

Violet jumped back in horror, and sprinted down the hall, nodding at Bella. Together they pounded on doors, alerting the entire orphanage to the fire raging in the kitchen. In the space of ten short minutes peace had erupted into chaos.

Teenagers were screaming, swarming in one tidal wave towards the double doors that had the word EXIT blinking over them in neon lights. The fire had spread to consume the boys' dormitory as well, and flames were licking at the last few people at the end of the swarm. It was a pity the orphanage walls were constructed out of wood and not bricks, because it made it all too easy for the fire to char everything in its path.

Teachers were shouting at everyone, trying to organize the mayhem. She watched everyone blankly, running with the flow and trying to keep up with the frantic pace. The rush of emotions were almost too much for me to take. She felt a migraine coming on. She never did deal well with emotions.

She tried distracting herself with words. "Fire, tyre, sire, pyre, lyre, cryer. Luck, tuck, suck, fuck. Frag, lag, smeg," she thought furiously, pressing her lips together. It didn't work.

Finally everyone was gathered outside, the teachers relieved after having determined nobody was stuck in the inferno gutting the orphanage. Bella gazed at the burning building with a morbid fascination, finding solace in the crackling flames, almost as though the building burning to the ground was not her home up to five minutes ago, but a bonfire in an ordinary campsite.

Everyone around her began to babble mindlessly about living conditions now. Bella tuned out their noise, focusing on the fire. Somewhere further away sirens wailed, coming closer by the second, the wails sharp and piercing. Bella smiled as she heard the soft undertone of a woman consoling her in song. Angel songs, baby, angel songs.

Her migraine vanished.

- - - - - - -

Three days later...

Edward

"Fuck," Edward growled, slamming his hands on the grand piano. He glared down at the sleek black surface that had been his only solace for the past twelve years when Daddy Carlisle started ignoring him. Now he simply felt like it was mocking him. Edward stepped away from the piano and started pacing, trying to conjure up a tune, any tune.

"Edward," Emmett said from outside. "Come out."

Edward took one last scathing glare at the piano and opened the door, wincing when he saw Emmett's latest injury-a thick, gaping wound on his elbow wrapped in thick, bloody gauze. "God, Emmett. Didn't Rosalie ban you from doing this shit?"

"What Rose doesn't know ain't gonna hurt her," Emmett replied seriously. "It'll be better in a few days."

"Few days? Are you mental? That's a fucking hole in your elbow, damn it! I know you have a huge ego, Emmett, but this is really nuts. Not even Superman recovers from this shit that quickly."

"Do you want to hear me out or not? For fuck's sake, Edward. You get hyped up for nothing."

Edward glared at his brother but stayed silent.

"Daddy C decided to foster another kid. She ain't gonna be related to us-I'm pretty sure she'll keep her last name like Rose and Jasper. She comes from that orphanage that burnt down-ya heard the news? That Seattle Orphanage-and apparently the coppers found us in her records."

Edward stayed silent before nodding. Emmett stared at his brother suspiciously before turning and leaving the room, closing the door with one last doubtful glance behind him. The moment the door clicked shut Edward whirled around and flung a pile of music theory books towards the glass window. It didn't shatter, but the books hit the floor with a satisfying crash.

He stared at the piles of scattered books, drained. He slumped against the door, burying his head in his hands. "Shit," he whispered. "If they ignored us before, what now?"