PREFACE
We're all gonna die someday, and honestly, I never really thought much about how it would happen. But lately, I've had more than enough chances.
The funny thing is, I could have never imagined it would turn out like this.
From across the room, dark eyes stare at me with an amusing glint. This hunter has managed to capture even the slightest trace of my breath.
If this is how I'm gonna go, well, at least it's pretty cool, even badass. Just a lone man facing off against a beast with nothing but his bare hands.
I miss Charlie... I miss my room, and believe it or not, I even miss forks. When faced with death, you can't help but reflect on all the choices that led you here. But I don't regret it. Even if a pleasant dream turns into a nightmare, at least I had the chance to dream.
The hunter slowly makes her way towards me, her gaze unwavering, her face calm.
I really hope this is a dream…
1. NEW BEGINNINGS
Perfect blue skies, windows down, Dad blasting Mr. Blue Sky. Couldn't ask for a better day in Phoenix. It's like the whole state is begging me to stay.
In a few hours, Forks. A tiny town tucked in the Olympic Peninsula of Washington State. Mosquitoes and inconsequential cops, that's what you'll find there.
"We can turn back," Dad says, his knuckles white on the wheel. Eyes fixed on the road. I let out a sigh. "I wanna go," I responded, looking out the window. "No, you don't," he shoots back, annoyed.
He's right, damn it. I hate Forks. The complete opposite of everything I love. A dingy, wet, muddy pit that even the sun avoids.
I tried to tough it out for years. But thank God Dad had the sense to pack up and leave. If I had to endure more than a couple of summers there as a kid, I'd have lost it.
So why am I willingly heading back now? Beats me, man. It just feels right. It's always been me and Dad against the world. Blasting music and stuffing our faces. I handled the bills, he made sure I was happy. But now he's got Paula, someone who truly loves and supports him. No more baggage from a failed marriage dragging him down.
Dad pulls over, runs his hand through his graying hair, and stares at me intensely for a whole minute before letting out a loud sigh.
"I wanna go," I say, almost convincing myself. He unlocks the doors. "Fine."
As my dad hands me my bag, he reminds me to tell Charlie he says hi. I assure him that I will. He then adds that I can always come back home if I want to, that he's here for me. I smile, knowing he still sees me as the angry little boy who used to cry every summer.
I respond, telling him not to worry and that Charlie and I are going to have a great time together. He pulls me into a hug, and though I hug back reluctantly, I still say, "I love you too, dad."
The journey from Phoenix to Forks is quite a trek. It starts with a four-hour flight to Seattle, followed by an hour in a small plane up to Port Angeles and another hour driving down to Forks.
The flight itself was fine, a bit chilly though. I can't blame anyone but myself; I wore only a tank top and shorts. I had grown used to the scorching heat of Phoenix and forgot how much colder other places can be.
Of course, Charlie didn't forget. She never does. The hour-long drive ahead was going to be challenging.
Charlie didn't mind; if anything, she seemed somewhat happy about the situation. This is the first time since I was a toddler that I truly chose to stay by her side for an extended period. She helped me enroll in school and offered to assist me in getting a car. The only issue was, she wasn't great with kids. Neither of us had much to say to each other. During the last summer I spent with her, we barely exchanged more than a couple of greetings.
It was no secret I hated being in Forks, and to some extent, I think Charlie believed I hated her too, just like my dad. However, she willingly accepted whatever kind of relationship or lack thereof I gave her.
Naturally, it was raining when I landed in Port Angeles. A fitting reminder that the sun bade me farewell long ago, and I was a complete idiot.
Charlie was waiting for me with her cruiser, ready with a coat for me in the back. She wore the title of Police Chief Swan with pride, and I used it as motivation to save money and buy my own car. No one makes an entrance quite like a cop, but I prefer to go unnoticed.
As I stepped off the plane, Charlie gave me a small, awkward pat on the arm. "You look good, BeBe," she smiled, leading me towards the car.
"You've grown a little. How's Renè?" she asked, referring to my Dad.
"He's fine. It's great to see you again, mom," I replied.
Charlie glanced at my small number of bags and mentioned finding more clothes for me once we're in town. I shrugged, explaining my dad and I had gathered whatever clothes we thought would work for me here, but it wasn't much. It all fit easily into her trunk without any trouble.
"I found something good for you, real cheap," she said as she strapped herself in.
"What is it?" I asked, suspicious of her lack of details.
"It's a truck, a Chevy."
"Where did you find it?"
"Remember Billy Black down at La Push?" Charlie asked, referring to the tiny Indian Reservation on the coast.
"No," I admitted.
"You used to go fishing with her in the summer," she reminded me.
Ah, now I remember. I hated fishing.
"She's in a wheelchair," Charlie continued, not giving me a chance to respond. "She can't drive anymore, so she said I could have her old truck for cheap."
"How old is it?" I finally managed to ask, and she quickly added, "Well, Billy has done a lot of work on it, so it's practically good as new."
I couldn't help but laugh. "When did she get it?"
"1984, I think."
"New?"
"It's a little older, maybe a decade or two," she admitted quietly.
"Mom, if it breaks down, I won't be able to fix it," I pointed out.
"I wouldn't be telling you if it didn't run well. It's a classic; they don't make them like that anymore."
Letting out a heavy sigh, I smiled at her. "And how much is it for?"
"It's free," she replied.
"Free?" I was taken aback.
"I thought it would be a nice homecoming gift," she confessed, peeking over at me hopefully.
I chuckled. "You can't beat that. You really didn't have to, though. I was planning on buying one myself."
"I just wanted you to be happy here," she said, her gaze fixed on the road. I could hear the fear in her voice, afraid that I wouldn't be happy, not just with her, but because of her. It was something we both understood too well.
"Thanks, mom. I'm really grateful," I said sincerely. I wasn't going to lie and pretend that I would be instantly happy in Forks or that our relationship would magically improve, but at least it's a start, and I got a free truck out of it.
"It was nothing," she mumbled, clearly embarrassed.
We just chatted a bit about the weather before going back to our usual silence. I stared out the window, lost in my thoughts.
The view outside felt like something out of a sci-fi movie, totally alien and breathtakingly green. Trees with moss-covered trunks formed beautiful arches over the road, enveloping everything in a never-ending canopy of leaves.
Finally, we arrived back home. It was the only real reminder of my parents' failed marriage: a small two-bedroom house they barely shared for two years before splitting up.
Despite all of that, nothing seemed to have changed, except for one thing - my newly acquired truck.
The paint had faded to a perfect rusty red shade, great for hiding any rust or dirt. Its big rounded fenders and bulky cab made it look like it preferred walking rather than running, but to me, it was absolutely perfect. It had that timeless quality that could survive a couple of crashes without even a scratch. This was no ordinary truck; it was mine.
"Dude, is that it?" I exclaimed, jumping out of the Cruiser. Charlie reluctantly replied, "Yeah." I ran over, grinning from ear to ear. "This is awesome! Thanks, Mom! I really love it!"
"I'm glad you like it," she responded, sounding embarrassed and pleasantly surprised.
In an instant, most of my worries about school tomorrow vanished. I had my very own ride, and it felt amazing.
I managed to haul all my stuff to my room in just one trip. The room hadn't changed much over the years. It had always been mine - the creaky wooden floors, light blue walls, low ceiling, and dusty white lace curtains. The only modifications were the removal of a crib and the addition of a desk, now housing a small old computer and a landline phone on my bedside table as I've grown older.
I'd like to think that Charlie had suggested the desk, but deep down, I knew it was Dad's decision. You could still find a lonely rocking chair tucked away in the corner, a constant reminder of Charlie's struggle to let go of the past.
I wasn't exactly thrilled about sharing a bathroom with Charlie, but at least she happily left to give me some space to think about that alone.
It felt good to be alone as I unpacked. It was hard to relax when she was around. I always had to be on guard, monitoring my behavior. I didn't want her to sense my discontent or be burdened by my emotional rollercoaster. This was my choice, and I wanted it to be stress-free for her, at least.
As I stared out the window, it hit me: I was really living in Forks. This is my life now, and tomorrow I will be starting school.
Forks High School had an intimidatingly small student population, a mere three hundred and fifty-seven - now fifty-eight - students, barely over half of what my old school in Phoenix had.
Everyone here knew each other, and families had known each other for generations. I would be the new face from the big city, an outsider who willingly chose to return to this small town. I felt like some kind of freak who had been given a way out but decided to dive back into the swamp.
If I were some hot, buff jock, I could probably use this to my advantage but, despite being from the Valley of the Sun, I have always had a ghostly white complexion and a slender frame. I am more likely to be compared to Oscar Wilde than a Greek God, and my lack of athletic ability is apparent in my awkward movements. I am more likely to accidentally hit myself with a bat than successfully hit a ball on the field.
After unpacking my belongings, I made my way to the bathroom to gather my essentials and take a shower.
Unable to resist, I gazed at my reflection in the mirror. Perhaps it was the lighting, but I looked awful. My long, unkempt brown hair appeared greasy and slick from the journey and the rain. My green eyes were bloodshot and lacked their usual vibrancy, while my translucent skin seemed to blend almost seamlessly with the whitewashed wall behind me. I resembled a ghost destined to haunt the world around me. I didn't believe I would fit in here; I struggled to fit in even at home, where I had been content.
Understanding people has always been a challenge for me, or perhaps I simply didn't want to understand. Even with my dad, despite our closeness, I maintained a distance. I created a new facade to spare him the burden of encountering my true emotions.
Maybe I am an anomaly, a mistake made by the world. Someone who was never meant to be loved or comprehended. I can attempt to present the best version of myself for school tomorrow, putting in the effort, but it won't change the outcome. Tomorrow will merely mark the beginning of another failure, so I must prepare myself accordingly.
That night, I struggled to sleep. It could have been due to the unfamiliar environment or the constant sounds of rain and wind battering against my window. Or it could have simply been my restless mind.
Regardless, I found myself awake past midnight, listening as the loud roars of the rain gradually transformed into hushed whispers. The thick fog enveloped my window, lending an omnipresent aura. In this familiar place, I felt like a bird trapped in a cage.