Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, or anything to do with it, however the OC's are all my own. The concept of Jasper being the 'God of War' is something that I've read in a few fics, but I don't know where it originates, so I'm sorry for not giving credit where credit's due! Plus, I have no idea what Louisianna, or Wisconsin are like - I'm from England, so please, forgive any mistakes. Have a great day, and I love you guys!

Camilla POV

June 2020

Baton Rouge, Louisianna

The next few days were tense, to say the least. Actually, as a matter of fact, it was damn near heartbreaking to experience them. It turned out that my daddy didn't have till the end of the month to give them his answer, but the end of the following week, which was beyond an inconvenience. I guess that I wasn't supposed to know that tiny piece of vital information, however, thankfully, Clyde and my daddy ain't exactly covert spies, and they cant whisper to save their damn lives, so when I overheard them talking about it in the kitchen on that fine Monday morning before school, I knew I needed to make a decision and quickly.

Travelling to school, with that weight on my shoulders, wasn't at all easy, and I near enough distanced myself from every single one of my friends, as well as Clyde himself, choosing to spend break and lunchtime in the front seat of my brother's car; a pretty little black Camaro, that he'd been given the day he learnt how to drive. I, on the other hand, had a strong affinity with motorcycles, and had my own in our reasonably small garage back home.

The pro's and con's to this situation were staggering; one the one hand, this promotion meant better pay for my daddy, so he wouldn't be stressing out as much over school tuition fees and bills that he would have to pay at home. He'd be a lot happier with this new job, gaining the respect that he goddamn deserves, and making the money that he always wanted, even before me and Clyde came along however, on the other hand, I would have to uproot my entire life, and start again. If we moved, that meant a new school, and new friends, new faces and new teachers, and having to follow a new curriculum, and find my place again in the social hierarchy.

Who says change isn't a good thing?, an annoyingly grating voice in the back of my mind said, It's not like you actually love living here anyway. The weather's always changing, the people here are far too nosey for their own good, the insets drive you nuts and the girl's that you call friends here would drop you in a heartbeat, and you know it.

It was a fact that I had grown up knowing; people were fickle and they didn't care about who they hurt, or what they did, as long as it benefited them in the long run, and the people around here were the same - they all wanted something from me, but the fact of the matter is, everybody needs someone to talk to. I needed to be able to say I had friends, because if I couldn't, then what kind of person was I?

I always assumed everything that went badly in my life was my fault, and now, here my dad was, with n astounding proposition, and I was standing in the way, blocking his dreams, all because I wanted to be a little selfish, and keep the life that I already had. I'm not ashamed to say that during that half an hour respite that we took from lessons, I cried like a little bitch in the car, and once it was over, I stepped out, shoulders squared and my expression neutral, acting as though nothing in the world was wrong, although, in essence, everything was crumbling down around me.

-0-

Digging my face further into the damp pillow, soaked in my stray tears, I winced as another strong scent of whatever Cajun concoction my brother was preparing for dinner practically slapped me in the face.

"You sure you ain't hungry, cher?," Clyde's voice asked from the other side of my firmly shut bedroom door. I mumbled something intelligible under my breath, before throwing my tired legs over the side of my low-level bed, and staggered over to the door, throwing it open, and levelling him with a blank stare. I growled, "No thanks," and went to close it in his confused face, but I wasn't able to, as his large hand came and halted the movement. He stared at me, intensely, before understanding flared in his eyes, and his expression surprisingly perceptive, and asked, "You stressing about daddy's promotion, huh?"

I scratched at my forehead, noting that my nails were jagged and unkempt due to the biting that I had been engaging in for the last hour and a half ever since I got back home from school. Nodding, sadly, I stepped back into my cave, aka my bedroom, and Clyde followed me in, sighing deeply, before settling in the wooden chair tucked beneath my study desk, and rested his elbows on his knees, his brow furrowing, and his jaw tight and clearly stiff. He said, after a beat of uncomfortable silence, "You heard us then?"

I nodded, again and crossed my legs, my feet settled on the opposite knees, playing with Malmo, my childhood toy monkey, who was missing an eye, and a different tone of brown patched onto the back of his knees. Clyde sighed, deeply, and I winced at the sound, noticing how upset he actually was at the fact that I knew the truth to the situation. He said, passively, "You.. You weren't supposed to know," and he rubbed the back of his neck, awkwardly, before continuing, "Pops wanted you to be able to choose without feeling like you're being pressurised into something you didn't wanna do."

Biting my bottom lip, I whispered, "I know.. But I do, and now I just feel so.. Selfish. I want daddy to have this job, its worth the move, but I jus' don't wanna go," and I felt tears prick my eyes, sharply, and I felt his arms wrap around my shoulders, and kiss my forehead, comfortingly, and he consoled, "Look, cher, pops and I jus' want you to be happy, and, don't kill me for sayin' this, but," he grinned, half-heartedly, "I think you'll be happier if we go."

And I couldn't in good conscience tell him that he was mistaken.

-0-

"Come on, Camilla, tell us!," Abigail, a fairly attractive girl in my calculus class asked, while leaning, eagerly, over the back of her chair, her bubblegum popping, in a quick succession, in her mouth, and a thin layer of makeup smeared across her face, causing her skin to take on a more tangy tone. I rolled my eyes, clandestinely, and huffed, quietly, to myself, before sarcastically, before muttering, "There's nothin' to tell, Abby, I'm just a little tired, okay," and I glanced back down at my relatively empty notebook, apart from the scribbled doodles I had drawn, carelessly in the margin of the page I was on.

I was hardly paying attention to anything around me, my head swarming with too much information for me to really calm down enough to understand what was going on around me, and instead of staying at home, and wallowing in my guilt, I came to school to try and occupy myself.

Obviously that was a great, big, fucking mistake, as girls like Abigail just wouldn't leave me be, and of course, because Clyde wasn't in, as he wasn't feeling up to school - he had said something about a toothache, and he stayed at home for the day. Of course I had realised that was a crock of horseshit, if I had ever heard one, but I left him and my daddy to their games, because I really couldn't find it in myself to care about what they were doing.

I had brought my bike with me, today, and, lord, had I forgotten the feeling of rubber wheels against a clean strip of tarmac road. It was the greatest sensation, and nothing would, or could, ever equate to it. Abigail slammed her hand down in front of me, rudely drawing me out of my thoughts, and demanded, "Come on! Why isn't he in today? Is he sick o' somethin'? Do you think we could come over today? You know, just to hang out and stuff," she tacked on the end for good measure.

This is exactly the kind of shit I was talking about. Girls like Abigail don't care about me - none of them do. Theyre all a bunch of faceless, nameless bitches, who sprout the same shit, hoping to catch a glimpse of my brother in a towel. I would never forget the night of my first ever sleepover - it was for my fourteenth birthday, just under two years ago, as it was my seventeenth birthday in three weeks, and I had invited three girls from ninth grade, and they spent the entire time in my brother's room, trying to gain his attention, leaving me alone in my bedroom, to cry alone.

Eventually my daddy had sent them home, because they had been hassling Clyde, and my twin found me that night, and apologised for their behaviour. I'm a little embarrassed to say that on that night, I told him that I hated him, and that I didn't want him to be my brother anymore - juvenile I understand, but at the time, in my eyes, it was more than called for, and my heart clenched painfully at the detached, disheartened look in his eye.

Needless to say, I spent a lot of time trying to make it up to him, although he said that he didn't really take offence to it, however I knew that to be untrue. I hurt him, and I made up for it for months. Of course, those girls and I never spoke again. Bristling slightly, I breathed out a shaky laugh, my mind made up, and my eyes hard as freshly cooled steel, and spat, "He's helping my dad get our stuff together, because we're moving."

-0-

The news of our impending move spread through the classes like wildfire, and I was sure that I saw a few girls even cry over the soon departure of my brother, now that I had made my decision. A few girls had handed me things for him, like bracelets, a few numbers, all of that menial shit that he usually was given on a daily basis.

My brother was gifted, nobody could take that from him, but damn, if his popularity didn't half piss me off. As soon as the day had ended, I had pulled out my phone, and sent Clyde a text message, telling him that I was down with the moving, and that whatever he and my daddy were up to was fine by me, to which he simply replied with, 'Sorry', and even though I felt a surge of amusement wash over me, I still felt somewhat detached from my body, as if I were watching myself from an out of body experience, or a particularly bad acid-trip of some kind.

The ride home was quiet, with nothing but silence inside of my mind to quell the rushing of the air as it whipped past my uncovered ears and my hair, which had been firmly tied up in a quick side braid. I knew this was dangerous, but truthfully, that was half of the fun. I pulled up to the sidewalk, only to see a group of girls, from my school, standing in my driveway, making their way up to my front door, and I growled, deep in my chest, before stomping over to them, and shouted, fiercely, "You take one more step towards that door, and I swear on everythin' that I hol' dear, I will have you arrested for harassment."

They froze, frightened over the sincerity in my tone, and they quick scuttled off, back to their hole somewhere, obviously, leaving me, chest heaving and eyes cold as ice. Clyde threw open the door, a thankful look on his face, and he hollered, "Thanks, cher, I didn't know what I would have done if they would'a got to the door - you know I cant say no to people," and shrugged, endearingly. As much as I loved this son of a bitch, he was too damn pretty for his own good.

He didn't know how to turn people away; there wasn't a mean bone in his whole body. He wrapped his arms around my waist, and tugged me upwards, easily hefting me into the air, so my legs were dangling, although my own arms were around his neck, and he was grinning from ear to ear. He said, after finally settling me down, "You sure about this move, cher? Once daddy says 'yes' he cant take it back."

After a beat of silence, and a moment of deep thought, I glanced at him, one eyebrow raised, and a small smirk on my face, "Wisconsin ain't gonna know what hit 'em."