AN: Okay. This is the first chapter, please, purty please, review. I don't want any more messages. I want some reviews. I don't really like the idea of someone saying, "Hey, if you say 'I like this, this many times, I'll keep going.'" I'm not doing that, not at all. What I want is 10 reviews. If I don't get enough, I won't care. If I finish the chapter and I don't have 10, then I'll, happily, post. Review if you like, review if you don't. Enjoy!

"Mom, look out!" I screamed.

She swerved, missing the other car by inches.

But she swerved into the other lane, with cars going the other way. We drove in that lane for no more than 1 second before a car crashed into us. The car's head lights connected to my eyes and I noticed that we were driving in the middle of the street, so the car only hit half of our car. It was, sadly, my mother's. She died that day, and I lived. The doctor said, "You are very lucky, you only got out of it with a couple minor cuts. You have to get stitches, but that's all. Sadly, they will scar and be there forever. The cuts were minor, but deep enough for the scars to stay healed like that and never fade." I heard his voice perfectly in my head, not looking at all sorry, but his voice held compassion, it was forced.

(There is a link on my page that has a picture of the scars.)

When he said that, all I thought of was, 'Great, just what I need, a reminder that my mother died, and I get off with a couple minor cuts.'

I shot up out of my horrible memory. I always get those flashbacks; I never know when I'm going to get them. Once, I saw a silver Prius – same car mom had, she was all about the environment – I just jumped into a flashback, stayed out for over an hour, that's the shortest time I have ever stayed into one, the longest was three days, but the thing that really creeps people out is I scream. I scream bloody murder and I thrash and kick and punch. I don't know anything about it and the doctors don't either.

The first one was when I was in class. I was sitting in English and I looked out the window and some car's headlights, when it turned the corner, met my eyes and I fell off the chair. I screamed and closed my eyes. I went under and woke up in the hospital, strapped down, bruised arms and legs. The doctors didn't have a reason for it and had to just send me home.

It's been a month since the accident, and I'm still not over it. We have had the funeral and I have gotten the things from her will. Phil got the things that I'm not old enough for. Like the house, the other car, things like that. I lived with him for a while, but I ended up on a plane towards Forks, Washington, going to my dad, Charlie's house.

I didn't want to go there. I wanted to be with the only things that would remind me of my mother. All I brought was her perfume and I got her necklace and I hung her wedding ring on it. It's never left contact with me since the hospital. Phil wanted them but I said no. I was closer to her, well; I knew more about her than he did. She had secrets that she told me and not him. I got them and he wouldn't do one thing about it.

One other reason is because I would get teased because my scars haven't gone away. The doctors said that I would need surgery to actually have them removed, I'm not sure how it works, but I know I can't afford it.

•••

"Bella! I missed you… what happened to your face?" Charlie asked me. That's normally the first thing that I heard when I saw someone I haven't seen in a little while. It gets old, but it's still annoying.

"I, uh, got in a, um, car accident – with Renee, remember?" I answer. I think I should get a shirt that says 'These scars are from a car accident' just so that I don't have to answer the questions, maybe a button. I think the absolute most annoying thing is the stares I get because of them, or the whispers. I could hear them all, and have. When I was in school, I heard all the rumors ever.

"I heard she was dating this guy, and he had a temper." – I haven't dated at ever; they've known me my whole life and I have either turned them down, or they haven't asked.

"I heard that she tried to commit suicide and jumped off a cliff, but she didn't succeed." – I was happy, but not anymore, I lost everyone. Plus, where would I find a cliff in Phoenix?

"I heard her step dad got mad and killed her mom and beat her." – I'm not even going to tell you how wrong that is.

"Come one Bella! Let's get going, I want to get home early so we can get some pizza before it closes," he said.

HOME

"I ate too much pizza, dad. Ugh," I groaned. "Never again, ever, not gonna happen."

"I ate too much too Bells. I'm right there with you," he chuckled.

It's been about three hours and we have each ordered a large pizza. There is only one pizza left and its Charlie's. I know, I know, Bella? You ate a large pizza by yourself? Little Bella? Yup, I did it all by myself, and I finished it.

"Come on dad, you need to finish. I already beat your record. You're just stretching it out more. I finished my pizza in – what? Thirty minutes? It's been two and a half hours since I finished."

"But I can't eat anymore! I don't wanna," he said, acting like a little child that had to eat his broccoli.

"Alright dad, just remember that I'm the winner. I got to go to bed. School tomorrow, you know?" I said as I got up.

He nodded and said, "'Night Bells, sweet dreams."

"You too, dad," I said as I walked to the stairs. I went up to my room and got my bag. I was as happy as I could get. I haven't had a flash back in about twelve hours. I got my bag and went into the bathroom.

After my shower I went back to my room and I pulled out my sketch book and charcoal pencils. I sat criss cross on my bed.

I decided to sketch two rocking chairs and a lake in the background. I made it so it looked like the moon was shining on the water. I added a dock on the side. The railing was on the picture also, with a small amount of the deck showing, I thought it looked really nice, but I needed a frame for it. That's what I draw; scenery. My mother loved to watch me sketch, even though I sucked at painting, she loved to see my finished black, grey, and white pictures.

I didn't finish it, but I decided that 11 o'clock p.m. was late enough, I could finish it at lunch tomorrow.

I got up and walked into the living room. I saw Charlie lying on the couch with his head hanging over the arm rest in a very uncomfortable position.

"Dad, dad, you need to wake up. You're going to get a kink in your neck if you lay like that all night," I whispered into his ear.

He groggily opened his eyes and mumbled something like "thanks" and "goodnight" under his breath.

I responded with a small "you're welcome" and a "'night."

I went into my room and I changed into shorts and a tank top. I'm not really fond of changing in the bathroom, I would rather change in my own bedroom. I should remember that I need curtains for my window because almost every time you look into the window, you can see me. I would need to stand either behind the door of my closet, or in the last three feet of the room, next to the wall.

I didn't mind that because there was only one house that was on my street, a beautiful house really. A lot bigger than mine but it was gorgeous. There was two cars in the driveway.

I decided that I shouldn't be analyzing their home and just go to bed. I opened the window as far as it would go and I walked to my suitcase. I emptied its contents in the dresser. Underwear and pajamas in the first drawer, shirts and jackets in the second, and jeans in the third.

I crawled into the bed and I curled up into a ball in the corner.

I don't like sleep. I really don't like to dream, actually. I love my time alone, my time to rest, but not the time to remember what had happened.

I fell asleep shortly after.