On my doorstep stood two memebers of Dr. Cullen's family that I had seen, but never met. The two girls in his family had come in his stead. Alice and Rosalie. Two of the most beautiful woman I knew I would ever see in my lifetime; short as it was.

"Would you like to come in?" I asked courtesly, thinking back to the fact that I still looked like crap even after my shower. Alice nodded while Rosalie remained impassive. I stood aside to allow them in. They both walked into my small cozy living room. They didn't seem to fit with the hand made patchwork quilt that adorned my couch or the livley red that covered my walls. I guestured towards the larger couch before I sat in the love seat that faced it. They both sat down in graceful movements and I made a face at their obvious perfection. Was there anything wrong with them? Alice caught my attention with a large grin before she began talking.

"Carlisle asked us to come over to ask you how you've been doing. He gave this long list of things to ask you-you know that he has never taken such intrest in a patient before? Oh well, do you mind if I ask you the questions in a row? You just have to say yes or no." she blurted out quickly, never once pausing to take a breath. I needed a moment to unfix the word's that she blurred together.

"Yah, yah that's fine." Rosalie remained quiet, never moving on the couch as she surveyed my house. I'd never heard her speak, and I began to wonder if she ever did.

"Okay, so have you felt nauseous?"she started.

"Yes"

"Dizzy?"

"Yes"

"Any nose bleeds?"

"No"

"A fever?"

"Yes" The questions continued. She wasn't lying when she said she had more than a few questions to ask. Most of them were simple, and all of them could be answered with yes and no. After a few moments she paused and stopped as she looked up at the ceiling thinking of any more that she had forgot. We were both suprised when Rosalie asked the one she had forgotten.

"Has there been anymore incidents?" she asked, raising one perfect eyebrow.

I hadn't planned to tell anyone but Dr. Cullen what had happened the night before, but I knew I should trust them they didn't have anyone else to tell, did they?

"Last night, I felt a little strange and then..." I skipped through the gross bits that I would be reluctant to even tell my doctor about.

"Well, I got these weird shakes and I just felt like, I don't know. Like heat was overtaking me and I couldn't do anything and then, then I guess I passed out." I only told them the partial truth, although I knew, knew that they should probably know that I would have died if someone, Eli, hadn't helped me. I just couldn't tell them about him and I don't know why.

"So you woke up this morning, fine again?" Rosalie asked, sounding incredulous.

"Yes, a little shaky but still fine." I replied ignoring her tone completly. I knew I was lying. I wasn't going to defend myself, people got caught that way. Alice got up out of her seat and Rosalie and I were quick to follow her. She practicly skipped to the door but before she got there she turned around to face me and I had to stop myself from running into her.

"That should be about it. Oh, and I think if anything like that happens again, Carlisle would probably prefer if you call him right after. Goodbye then, I won't see you next time, but Rosalie definalty will." Alice told me before she opened the door and stepped out. Rosalie followed her at her own pace. Before she got all the way to the car, she turned her head to look at me over her shoulder.

"Emmett and I will be here next time, probably next Saturday morning. If not, I'll make sure that he calls you." She told me without really seeming to put any emotion into her words. I did notice that she said that Emmett would be the one to call. I could tell that Rosalie honestly didn't care about me, but that didn't matter. We had just met. I didn't base my perceptions of people by the front they put out. Her entire persona was probably eighty percent of the real her, and I thought that the other twenty percent was someone I could definatly come to like. As for Alice, she was easy to like. She didn't pretend to be anybody but herself. While I couldn't see myself hanging out with someone like her, she was too obsesivly happy, I could see tolerating her with ease. I heard the whip of the tires hitting the gravel of my long driveway as they left.

I spent the rest of the day resting. I still felt weak from the nights struggle with life and death. Later, I woke up to the sound of birds chirping. It took only a few hours before I couldn't stand the lonley atmosphere of my house. I'd finished all of my homework and I had no new books to read. In a split second decision, I decided to drive to Port Angeles to get some new books and some new music too. The drive there was too long and because of the ever constant rain, traffic was horrible. For drivers that live the rain almost year-round, you would think they would learn how to drive in it.

I walked into the first book store I saw and grabbed any book that caught my eye and had an intersting description the flap inside. The only things I splurged on were books, music and ingredients to bake my latest inventions. Cooking was one of my passions. I just had to be careful how much I made, because there was no one else to eat it but me.

On my way to the highway, I passed a garage sale. I slowed down as I saw an easel perched on the sidewalk. A real painter's easel. Not a child's toy. I hadn't painted since, well...before.

~10 years ago~

"Guess what I found for sale at the art's and craft's store?" My mother swept through the front door with a grin on her face that spread from ear to ear. She held a large, full bag in her hand. She was always searching for something to fill the time while her husband, my father, worked every second he could. She placed the bag on the coffee table that stood infront of the sofa I sat on.

"What is it now Mom?" I asked her while giggling. The last time she did this, we had spent the entire day making making a lego city. I always had a great time with her.

"I found an easel, a real easel! You can draw all the pictures of us you want now. Practice before you become a famous artist and leave you poor parents behind." She told me, her eyes twinkiling with laughter. She loved to see all of my drawings, and I loved to draw for her.

"And I got some cheap washable paints. I want to paint with you. When I was a little kid, I used to love to fingerpaint. I used to use my pudding to make pictures on my plate, not that your grandmother ever appreciated my geneuis!" She laughed and the impulse to join her was irresistable. I jumped up from the couch and set up the easel as she opened the paints. Before I could even take the easel all the way out of the bag, I felt something wet and slimy go down my back. I turned to see my mother's hand covered in green paint, a wide innocent smile on her face.

"Mom! Eww, gross!" I snatched up one of the other paint bottles and squirted it on her face before she could react. A pink splatter crossed on her face. I laughed hard.

"Oh, you're gonna get it now!" she told she chased me around the house with the rest of her paint.

~Present~

My mother had been the most bright, happy person I have ever seen until after I was diagnosed. She cracked and took all the blame she could find into herself. She grew cold and indifferent. I couldn't bring myself to love the new her. She wasn't my mother.

I got out of my car, my head still in a cloud of memories. I stood in front of the beautifully made easel and lightly traced the beautiful carvings ingraved into the border. It was obviously very old and well made.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" An older woman stood beside me, staing at the easel as well. She turned to me and looked straight into me with her bright eyes that shown with grief. I felt like she could read my very thoughts.

"My husband would look at it like that." She took a look back at the easel and a tear found its path down her withered cheek.

"As if he already knew, as if he could already see the masterpiece he would create. He would stay up for days. He wouldn't sto until he was done. He was always so vibrant, he loved life. I can't imagine that he is really gone. Everything to his eyes was beautiful. Even the ugly thing of this world, like death. I think that's why I ever married the old fool." Tears streamed down her face silently, but her voice never cracked.

"I always told myself I would never give this away, because he loved it so much and I loved him so much. But I think you need it, so much more than I ever could. So take it, take it and never forget to love life and the celebrate it with everything."She finished as she wiped away the tears on her face.

"At least let my pay-" I started.

"He always talked about how he wish young people would follow their hearts. What does yours tell you?" she interrupted.

I needed it, that was all I knew.

"I haven't painted or even drawn in a very long time...thank you. I promise you that I will never forget your advice. Your husband was a very wise man. I swear you you I will take good care of it." A tear fell from my cheek. How long had it been since I last cried? I couldn't remember. Maybe I could retrace my steps back to when I was a child. When my life was normal.

I packed it off into the trunk of my forest green Ford Explorer. I had bought the truck used and the paint was a bit faded. I slipped it carefully into the back and thanked the woman who had just given me her late husband's most prized possesion because she thought I, a complete stranger was the person who needed it.

The overcast sky seemed to reflect my somber mood as I remembered every time my mother and I used our small plastic easel. To fingerpaint or to use charcol. I had learned most of my techniques on that easel. How to use shadows to make a drawing come to life, to use colors correctly. And my mother had been there for all of that.

She had been there with me through all of the easy things, I now realized. She had left me as soon as I really needed her. That was something I would always carry with me, to my death. It's not like my father was ever there to pick up the pieces.

I got caught at the next light and I took that time to pull myself together. I thought I'd gotten over some of the resentment I held towards my parents. I guess in a way I had, and now all that was left was the overwhelming sadness that they had both left me. I hoped I could get over that before the end.

The light changed and I took the left onto a long narrow street that would lead to my road. There were no houses near mine and the quiet that reined through th area calmed me when I turned my truck off as I parked infront of my home. I shut the car door behind me and it broke the silence with a large bang. My steps crushed the fallen leaves that littered the ground I walked on. It was just after I opened my trunk that I noticed the change in air. I silence became more pronouced and I could feel it, I could feel him.