Authors Note: I am currently re-visiting this which FanFiction I began to write many years ago. My other recently updated FanFiction is OCxPaul Twilight fiction, which I hope you may go on to look at it's called The Plan.

Foreword:

This story is dedicated to Adrian, my driving instructor.

Adrian, I never got a chance to tell you how much you touched my life. I was in a very, very dark place when you were teaching me to drive, and I wasn't always the kindest towards you, but you remained so patient despite my struggles. Mental health is so fragile, and I'm so sorry you lost your own battle.

Chapter I

Erin Purser

"Erin," the voice crackled through the letterbox; his voice was as coarse as sandpaper from the twenty-cigarette a day addiction he'd nursed since a teenager. Now in his fifties, the habit was catching up with Brian, and no amount of nicotine chewing gum was going to ease that.

Brian's voice was softly accented, in a strange way, on this side of La Push. But that was because Brian was from Forks.

"You're going to have to come out, Erin; your brother has already paid for today's lesson," Brian rasped again through the small slit in the door. His voice was muffled against my back, which pressed firmly against the door. Keeping the world outside firmly blocked from the sanctuary of the house.

My breathing was short, sharp, and heaving.

I worried on my bottom lip, urging my mind to form a solid train of thought as my chest heaved. I rubbed my shaking fingers over the amethyst stone at my breast, willing its calming properties to propel me from this anxiety attack.

My efforts were not only feeble but entirely wasted.

"Come on, Erin!" Brian tried again, opting for a more authoritarian tone. Trying out a new approach, I see.

My head span increased as a wave of dizziness took over, produced by my shallow breath. Depriving oxygen to my brain is a way to go. If only I could just block out the words coming from the letterbox.

It may be the beginning of December, but my hands were slick with sweat, and I could feel the heat perspiring around my knitted jumper.

"Erin," Brian tried again. I had to give it to him; this guy was persistent.

"Look, we don't have to drive anywhere today; we can just sit and talk," he assured.

Talk. Talk, like talking, could improve this situation.

I allowed my feet to slip over the wooden floor, lowering myself onto the doormat and setting my head between my legs. Cradling my head between my thighs, I took a ragged breath, in and out. That was it.

It was my attempt to snap myself out of the anxiety attack.

With a well-practiced manoeuvre, I straightened up and was on my third round of deep breathing.

Slowly exhaling the air from my body. I Inhale through my nose for a slow count of four. Holding at the top of my breath for a count of four again. The exhaling through my mouth of a count of four.

My legs felt as if they might snap under me, and I pushed myself upright. I could see Brian moving behind the fogged pane glass.

Clutching the metal of the handle, it bit into my skin. I flinched back in discomfort.

I could do this, and I reminded myself firmly.

I forced the handle down and pushed the door forward, sealing my fate.

Brian lurched back to avoid being hit, and I was greeted with his familiar musky smell of cigarettes and cologne. Brian's signature scent.

"Well, good morning," he greeted me with a toothy smile, all swagger in his jeans and smart button-down shirt.

The garden was crisp with the morning frost, and Brian had left the car with its bright red 'L' plates idling on the drive. He was optimistic, considering how long it would take to coax me out of the house.

"Can I just have a..." I began realising I was trying to kid myself if I thought I could make it into the car. But Brian dismissed my protest with a pointed look.

"Just get in the car, Erin," he jerked his head towards the car, lurching the keys into the air and in my direction.

I dove after them, failing my limbs, and still managed to miss them.

Sure.

Just get in the car.

Just get in.

As if it were that simple.

Brian led us down the porch and through the paved path onto the driveway. I moved hesitantly behind him, my trainers providing an unsteady footing.

Despite the distance between us, I could still smell the cigarettes, which made my nostrils flare and my head pulse.

The car, my nemesis, sat unabashed in the driveway; it's beautiful metallic blue paint, winking at me in the bright winter sunlight.

"You could at least try and look a little less pained by this Erin," Brian teased, looking at my grimace. "You know, for me," he winked, walking to the passenger door.

I forced a smile that was far from convincing from the shake of his head.

Learning to drive is the most difficult task I have ever tried to accomplish in my eighteen years thus far.

I have never encountered something in life quite this hard. Something that didn't simply rely on my doing some revision or attending a class.

My best friend Quil had picked up driving in no time.

Kayah, my only school friend and fellow loner, was driving a brand-new convertible courtesy of her parents. Driving was easy for her.

As had it been for Noah, my brother who passed his test the first time, securing his license in record time. He was a petrol-head, owning his own garage now.

Then there was Jacob Black.

Hell, that guy had probably been born with the ability to drive.

He was that sort of jerk.

Thinking about him made my blood pressure rise, and not in a good way I might add.

He not only drove around the reservation on that stupid bike, but he was also my brother's business partner at the garage.

Stop. That's quite enough, Black.

Not only did driving require some form of coordination, but it also involved instructions, moving multiple body parts, and looking around in every possible direction, all while being in a moving vehicle! It was terrifying.

That, coupled with my crippling anxiety disorder, it meant I was on my third driving instructor, and my brother Noah was not ready to let me off the hook yet. He was paying Brian double-time as he was travelling all the way from Forks to get to La Push to teach me.

During my first lesson with Brian, I never managed to get the car to move. I have remained in a similar stationary state for the month that followed this. We had recently succeeded in moving the vehicle into drive.

Bringing us firmly to the present.

Brian was enthusiastic about his work.

I was not.

He found challenging pupils rewarding.

I was about to prove that theory wrong.

He thought I just needed to get my head around the idea of being in a car.

He had no idea.