I was never one for tears. I was never one to lose myself over losses. I was never one allow myself to be despondent because of someone else's behaviors and/or verbal words. And I certainly one to wallow my self-pity over the current day's events. It wasn't until I moved to Forks and fell in love with Jacob Black, Forks and Jacob had brought my internal conflicts that I never thought I would live through. Conflicts I thought I would never grow from, I never believed there was anything for me. But Forks and Jacob Black had changed my life, and I would never change the outcome.

It was May tenth of 2006, that was the day my life officially fell apart. I'd lost my brother four days before, Caiden, and it was on the day of his funeral. I looked over my dress in the mirror on the back of my bedroom door, smoothing out the black fabric on my torso. My dark brown eyes were puffy and red, my face tear-stained from my last cry when I came back in from my shower, I continued towel drying my hair and running my comb through the thick long strands of ashy brown hair.

"Are you ready, sweetheart?"

My head turned to my father's voice down the hallway. An older man in his mid-thirties with chocolate brown hair and eyes, slim and in a full designer black suit. Expensive and elegant. My parents were loaded from inheriting my mother's trust fund and joining my grandparent's international corporations. My father, however, is a surgeon and a brain surgeon at that.

As ready as I'll ever be.

"Your mother is waiting for us. Come on." He was refusing to look me in the eye, he has been since Caiden died.

I let him lead me from my small bedroom. I know they blamed me. I know they were angry with me about a lot of things.

"…Dad?" I glanced at him from the corner of my eye.

"Hm?" Dad looked straight ahead.

"I'm sorry." I spoke softly, my eyes dropping to the floor.

"What for?" Mom was walking down the hall toward us smoothing out her dress and cardigan.

"For not helping him…" I whispered, fidgeting with my hands and fingers.

I leveled my eyes with the dark wooden floor, I got nothing, but silence and I looked up to see their facial expressions. That was when they both looked at me with alarm written on their faces.

"Sweetheart, no. Caiden was in a bad place for a long time. He decided he couldn't take it anymore. There is no way that him doing this is your fault." Dad spoke fiercely.

"Then why won't either of you look me in the eye? Can't you admit that there's a tiny bit of both of you that doesn't hold me responsible?" I looked between the two of them.

They shared a long look before Mom spoke, "Vivianna, the only person we blame is Caiden… You didn't force him to put the blade to his wrists... He did it on his own." Mom had tears glistening in her eyes by the time she finished speaking.

"But if I hadn't fought with him. Or if I hadn't run out like a child-."

"Viv…, he was probably going to do it even if you had you done something." Dad says gravely, shaking his head.

"We need to go, but Vivian, it was not your fault. If Caiden could, he'd tell you the same thing." Mom said, pulling dad and I out of the house.

As soon as I had my seatbelt buckled, we were pulling out of the driveway. It was a normal day in the Olympic Peninsula, sheeting rain and frigid air. I kept my eyes focused on the world passing by as we drove through Port Angeles to the funeral home. The city was busy for a Wednesday morning.

"Vivianna, how about tomorrow we go shopping? You need some new clothes. You've gotten taller." Mom said, turning around in her seat to look at me.

"Mom, the only thing that grew is my butt and the empty space in our house." I retorted, crossing my arms and staring out of the window.

"Oh, we could go to Aerie!" Mom suggested with a smile; her green/blue eyes held hope.

"That'd be cool."

I could really care less about shopping, but I felt like it would upset her more if I said no. I really didn't want to upset her, I didn't particularly care to spend time with my parents, but I didn't care either way. My parents were just like my grandparents, and they never accepted me for who I truly was or what I had been. Dad turned to looked at me. If he hadn't turned to look at me, maybe he would have seen the mother running after her toddler into the middle of the street.

"Dad!" I shrieked pointing out the windshield, he whirled around with alarm.

Dad swerved around the mother and the kid safely in her arms, but that didn't give him enough time to see the other car in oncoming traffic lane. It smashed into front wheel end of the car. Our car went spun, then flipped a couple times I wasn't sure how many. The sound of crunching metal and shattering of glass pierced my ears and screaming. Broken glass cut my skin, and my eyes slammed shut instinctively. It was all over in less than a minute. Or so I believe.

"Mom? Dad?" I groaned, struggling to move. Move something, move anything, knowing I needed to keep myself awake.

I opened my eyes to a hazy vision and spots of the scene around me, I could unconsciously feel my heart racing in my chest. My seatbelt was locked in place, the car was on its topside. Broken glass, the wet pavement, my hair with blood and the rain pooling and draining from an angle in the ditch. The yells of panicked bystanders. Spots filled my vision as I tried to move again but I didn't have to look to know the emptiness of the car was terrifyingly insightful.

There was nothing left. I had nothing left...