Hey! Important chapter here, just you wait.

- Anna

I do not own Twilight.

I did not go back to the house that day, but instead settled on checking into a ratty motel for the night. The walls had been dirty; they had what looked like rust stains running out of the crease between the upper wall and ceiling and were far from their original white color. I did not like the feeling of being alone in the dimly lit room, and buzz in my ears was still there. I had gone to sleep fairly early in hopes both of the feelings would stop.

As I woke up to the minimal amount of light shining through the windows, I rubbed my eyes without a worry in mind. It was so early in the morning that I had a neutral, sleepy disposition; that was until the events from yesterday came flooding back, of course.

Vampires were beautiful creatures, horrifying but graceful. Their alabaster skin and crimson eyes were satisfying, similar to a drop of red wine on a porcelain plate. The long, wavy blonde hair, that I assumed was only a trait of the child I had seen, was curled and flawless like ropes of gold. Her body was graceful as one would compare a ballerina to, but more everlastingly beautiful.

Werewolves were a whole different story to be told. They were wolves, just brutish, elegant, and terrifying more than any animal I had ever seen. Their glistening coats were a multi-toned painting, adorned with mixes of colors that could only be achieved by the most skillful of artists. The eyes that stared at me playfully had been a whole new shade of black; the color must have been on the opposite side of the color wheel from alabaster. Those eerie black eyes had struck a new fear into my very soul with just an ironically playful stare.

It made me wonder what else was in this terribly messed up world. More accurately, who else did I know that had secrets like this?

I contemplated going to live with my dad quite a few times and then dispelled the idea, just to rethink it again. It was betraying my brother in a way, but in another way, he had betrayed me too. His way of betraying me was much worse than if I went to live my dad, even just temporarily until I found a way to get back to Spokane. Mom had not checked up on me since I had gotten to La Push; I had not gotten so much as a phone call from her. I doubted she would want me home so soon. She was indifferent towards me since everything had happened back then when I lived under her roof, something she liked to emphasize whenever she got the chance.

I thought it was smart to call my dad. I trusted him more than anybody I knew in this place at that moment in time, but when he answered, I wanted to cry. It wasn't surprising that he answered with a heavy slur coating his honey-thick voice.

"Who is this?"

"Uh, Daddy, it's Bianca," I started off slowly, "I know I haven't seen you lately and all and I was supposed to come stay with you when I first got here, but I really need somewhere to crash for a couple of days until I can get ahold of someone to take me back home. I'm having problems where I'm staying right now."

"Go stay with your brother," he said. I heard no hint of concern in his voice, just annoyance. He didn't get that Sam was the problem, he was who I did not want to go back to. There was a shock of terror that I felt deep within my soul; it made my stomach hurt. I would have to go back and face everyone if my dad would not take me in.

"Daddy, I can't stay with Sam. He did something to me," I said quickly. I felt my heart beating in my chest like a terrified animal of prey. My hand grazed over my extremely short nail unconsciously and I realized I had already picked them down to the nub. I quickly made sure my hands were busy so I did not rub my knuckles again. They had healed quite recently and I was not in the mood to reopen them.

He took a long time to respond to my plea. I assumed he was thinking, but he could have hung up. I wearily said, "Daddy?"

"You can't come stay with me. I hardly fucking know you." Heartbreak.

"But I'm your—" Click.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

I closed my phone in shock and and looked down. My phone beeped again. A little part of me hoped it was my dad again, calling to say he was joking. It was Sam. He had already called me forty-five times exactly and each time I declined him. I wanted to answer and simply call him a liar, but I had nowhere enough courage to do anything like that, so I declined him again for the forty-sixth time.

"I could take a bus," I mused sadly to myself. "It's fine, Dad."

But it wasn't fine and I knew it. I prided myself in not crying this time as I counted up my money in an eerily silent kind of way. There was nothing to say or do at this point but find enough for a bus home and maybe stay with someone at home. I would not stay with my mother, but maybe with someone who liked me back in Spokane. If there was anyone like that at this point in the year, I would be surprised.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Sam, four times in a row. There was a pang of remorse in my heart that stopped me in my tracks. I flipped open my phone after it had stopped ringing and scrolled through my missed calls; there were multiple numbers I did not know, a couple from Emily, and some from Kim and Rachel.

I left the motel at the earliest checkout time they provided. I decided that I would have to pack up and take my belongings from the house; I had more money there. It would be practically impossible to get out of this town with only the thirty dollars I had in my pocket. Thirty dollars would only take me from here to the reservation; it was not a lot of money transportation-wise.

I checked the time on my watch compared to the bus schedule I found on my phone. It was twelve o'five. The bus came at ten after twelve, so I did not have much time to burn. I curled up on the bench in front of the bus stop and smiled to myself when a strip of my skin was exposed. It was sheet white with contrasting freckles adorning it. I must have been getting sick or stressing myself out too much. I was never this pale, my skin was typically comparable to warm butterscotch color. It was now a cream color; I hardly looked like I had native blood in me at all.

"Oye, Miss!"

The bus driver was calling me, his milky hand waving me near him. I gave him a thankful stare and handed him a ten-dollar bill as I got onto the bus.

"This is the bus that drops off near the La Push Reservation?" I asked tentatively.

"Yeah," he said gruffly. It'll be about five minutes. Sit tight."

I rode and left fairly quickly, then walked the rest of the way to my brothers house. The door was ajar, so I walked right in. Sam had a tendency to forget to close doors; he had done the same thing when we were younger. That was how Mom always knew when he snuck out, and how he always got caught for it.

I made my way into the house calmly. My plan was to simply grab my stuff and go, but sometimes things don't work out in our favor.

Everyone was there. And by everyone, I meant every single one of the people I had met this far and even some I did not know. The house was packed to the brim with people and others. I spotted a few police officers scattered among the house, but nobody was looking at me.

I assumed everyone was looking for me, though. For that exact reason, I snuck around the walls edges and was almost to my room when someone grabbed me. I saw copper skin and bronze hair, but the figure was smaller than my brother. It was Jacob, the boy I had been stressing over for the past few days, and there were two others behind him.

"Let me go," I hissed lowly. "I'm getting my stuff."

"Are you stupid? Sam and I have been going out of our minds trying to locate you," he hissed back, but angrier than I was.

I put my finger to my lips, signaling him to be quieter.

"I'm leaving."

I attempted to pass by him, but he grabbed me in a flash. "No, you're not," he hissed into my ear, pulling me into the crowd. I yanked my arm weakly, but his grip was too tight; my arm popped from the force of my pull against his strong grip.

"You're a werewolf, I know it," I accused. I felt his hand clench and stiffen on my arm, which confirmed it all the more for me.

"You're on drugs," he accused in retaliation.

He was trying to play it off like I was crazy as he dragged me by my arm with a crazed look on his face. It was maddening how he treated me, but it was even more when he took me right to the front of the house where I saw Sam standing. I struggled in his grasp, turning away, but he trapped me in front of his body. In that moment, I realized I loathed Jacob Black with all of my heart. I was not his slave, his girlfriend, or his soulmate; I was Bianca, who was a seventeen year old girl being manhandled by a giant man-boy-werewolf thing.

Sam looked shocked to see me and was suddenly in my face. "Where were you?"

"Uh . . ." I stuttered stupidly.

"She's on drugs," Jacob cut in. I twisted around to stare at him in disbelief. What the hell did he think he was doing?

"No I'm not!" I turned back to Sam, a hint of what I felt was pleading in my eyes. He looked at me in the same way I had looked at Jacob, disbelieving. He really had lost all faith in me, I realized. He was just as stupid as I thought, first he lied to me, then he didn't believe that I was perfectly fine. I would not believe Jacob Black for ten million dollars if I were given the chance.

He shook his head at me and Jacob had put on the most disappointed look he could muster. Liar.

"We found her!" Sam called into the crowd of people. They looked like they could not have cared less and shuffled out slowly. "Could you take her to her room for me, please?"

Jacob did as asked, but thankfully loosened his grip on my arm this time. I glared at him most of the time as we silently walked down the hall. That was, right up until we were right in front of my door. He paused when we were there and grabbed my face in both his hands.

"You're staying, right?"

The feeling of his hands were not unpleasant, but more like a soft mitten of coppery skin against my face. There was a confusing feeling in my heart. I loathed him, or at least I was supposed to, but my heart was beating fast in an excited way. I had never felt that way before, as if my heart was going to jump out of my chest and stare at me with a dimpled, excited smile. It was a welcome feeling.

"I wouldn't like to, but you've got Sam on my case now. Jacob, I wanted to get out, it's not normal—"

And before I could finish my sentence, his lips were on mine. I was still in shock, but moved with him in a way I had never done before. His lips were warm like a hot coffee on a cold day and tasted like butterscotch candy. It made my body instinctively move nearer to him. I could feel my pulse in my throat and everywhere his hands touched, the small of my back, my neck, my face.

And for the first time in my life, there I felt as though I had something I lived for. Someone I lived for.

And that someone was none other than Jacob Black.