I'd never given much thought about how I would die... But, if it's in place of the one I love, it seems like a good way to go. It was always in my dreams. Me dying for my love, I mean. I would be watching myself from somewhere else, just out of view of everyone else in the scene.

My body would be mangled, or bruised, or battered or bloodied. It would be sitting, or laying, or even in a coffin. Everyone there, some I have seen and others I have never met, would be gathered around my body, weeping openly. But the one it seemed to hit the most was a small, petite woman with short, wild hair. But her face always seemed to be turned away from me, always hidden and in mystery.

I would always wake up, disappointed when I did, only because I would miss the woman in them, or because I didn't see what happened afterwards.

My mother, Renée, was always an upbeat and happy woman. Nothing could ever bring her down. And she seemed happier around her new husband, Phil. I could see it in her green eyes when she looked at him over the table while tucking a lock of her long red hair behind her ear, or the glances she stole when she thought that neither of us were watching. And vice versa. They were like high schoolers, who were friends and it was painfully obviously that they were in love, yet danced around each other while everyone was waiting for them to kiss.

So, wanting to give them a little of time to do whatever they wanted alone, I decided to move from Phoenix, Arizona for a while, and go live with my father, Charles, in the little town of Forks, Washington.

I would miss Phoenix. The heat, my friends, the memories, my family. But I knew this would be a good choice for both, my mother, Phil and me. They would get freedom and solitude, and I would get new experiences in Forks, and get to see my dad after years of being apart.

So, after making sure we had everything, we all drove to the airport from our little house, with my holding my potted cactus in my hands as we drove. I stared out the window as Black Ghost's Full Moon blared in my ears, watching the familiar scenery fly by as I left one home and headed to another.

My first impression of Forks? Miserable and wet. It seemed to always rain, the skies darkened with thick black clouds, forcing the sun into hiding. Despite the conditions for terrible moods and attitudes, people still managed to be upbeat.

It was contagious, though, as I found myself smiling at the antics that the various people got up to as my dad, Charlie, drove me in his car to home.

Charlie was a tall man, with thick but short black hair and a small mustache on his upper lip. He had a lot of stubble on his cheeks and chin, and always looked so tired. Well, being sheriff would do that to you.

Being driven around in a police car isn't really the best way to be viewed in your new town. But I didn't really care about the impression that I gave everyone. Didn't really care about of a lot of things, actually. I know that it seems like a bad view on life, but I found that, if you just don't care, nothing will phase you. You'll be alright when things go wrong, or strange.

I was snapped from my thoughts when I saw the familiar house come into view. I sat up a bit more, taking it in. This was going to be a very long, but hopefully fun, time with my dad.

(A/N): It's been years since I've seen the (alright) movies, and I have never ever read the books, but I'll try to do my best to piece together this story with the knowledge I know from fanfiction and research - without the sparkling skin and such.