A/N: Hey guys, my first fanfic, hope you like it! Please read and review! Quick warning: Bella is OOC. Deal with it or read something else. Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or any of its characters, I'm just playing with the shiny toys and will attempt to return them in 'as new' condition. My work is unbeta'd, so if you find any mistakes, please let me know and I'll correct them! luv ya's all!

I sat in the plane, the vibrations and noises it made almost overpowering my senses. I wanted to get out, to get off, to go back to my previous life…but that was not an option.

Ever since it happened, my mother has been struggling. She couldn't deal with me the way I am now, couldn't deal with the new requirements, or my mood swings. So, she sent me away. She and my father decided between them that a small town would be a better, safer place for me than the big city while I was learning to deal with my life the way it is now, and she had shipped me off without so much as a by-your-leave.

Even since I came home from the hospital, my PT finished, Renee had struggled. She wanted to be with Phil as he traveled, but she couldn't leave me home alone. I knew that that was making her miserable, which is why I let her send me away. I didn't want to come go to Forks. I had always hated it there, but for Renee I would go and pretend to be happy.

I felt the plane start to drop , and shifted in my seat as I heard the landing gear go down. It was a bumpy landing, and I hit my head on the wall where I had leant it.

I heard the people, including the man sitting next to me, exit the plane, and I stood carefully, pulling my cane out of my small shoulder bag.

"Here, miss," one of the flight attendants spoke, startling me, and took my arm gently to lead me off the plane. I allowed it, feeling in front of myself as I went. Being led was fine, until someone didn't realise that they hadn't led you wide enough around this or that obstacle, and you fell flat on your face, or smashed into something.

"Just wait here, miss, your father will be along shortly," the woman told me, leading me to a bench out of the way of the foot traffic.

"Thank you," I replied, but from the sound of her footsteps, the flight attendant was already too far away to hear me. I slumped down on the uncomfortable bench, wishing I could hide. I heard loud footsteps approaching, booted feet I thought, and my father's voice pulled me from my gloom.

"Bells!" he exclaimed joyfully. "I'm so glad you're here!"

"Hi Dad," I said as I stood, turning to orient myself on his voice just before he grabbed me in a strong grip, lifting my feet off the ground as he hugged me.

"How you doing, kiddo?" he asked as he set me back on my feet.

"I'm okay," I replied, lying through my teeth.

"Well, let's go and get your luggage," he said, taking my hand and placing it on his elbow so that I was walking beside and just slightly behind him, my cane firm in my grip. I realised that Renee must have told him how to do that, or else he'd been doing some research on his own.

He led me through the crowd to baggage claim, and I followed him silently.

"I got you a new bed, and a desk and a computer," he told me casually as we stood beside the carousel. "Did your mother tell you what your luggage looks like?" he asked.

"Yeah, it's yellow with a thick black stripe," I replied. Charlie grunted in response, and I felt his head turn away from me, the movement translating down through the muscles of his arm.

"Here it is," Charlie said suddenly, and I released my grip on his elbow to allow him to grab it. "Was this all?"

"There should be two bags, the same size," I told him. It wouldn't have been so much, but I had accumulated so much stuff to deal with everything; books in Braille in particular were so much bulkier than normal books.

"So, you start school tomorrow," Charlie said, taking my hand and placing it on his elbow again, refusing my help with the bags, and led the way through the airport. He helped me into the car, something I still wasn't very good at, mostly because they were all different; different sizes, different shapes, different distances from the ground…I supposed that, if I couldn't manage the walk to and from school I would be riding in this car an awful lot and would get used to it.

Charlie didn't speak from the time he got into the car, other than to ensure that I had my seatbelt done up correctly.

That was fine with me. Charlie's behaviour was one of the other reasons I hadn't fought my parents over the decision to move me to Forks, I didn't have to worry about him hanging over me every moment, freaking out over every single mood swing and scraped elbow.

I dozed for most of the trip to the house, waking fully when the car jerked to a stop. I heard Charlie get out and undid my seatbelt, then, opening the door carefully, I unfolded my cane outside of the car, like you would an umbrella, and used it to feel the distance to the ground. I then swung my legs around and carefully stood, exiting the car on my own. I felt a small surge of accomplishment at this, and grinned to myself as I heard Charlie approach, pulling my two bags behind him.

"Here, Bells," he said, brushing his arm against mine so I could take his elbow. "Unfortunately there's nowhere to put a bedroom on the first floor, so you still have your old room…" he trailed off, uncertain.

"It's fine, Dad, I'll get used to it," I assured him quickly.

He led her carefully into the house and up the stairs to her room. "There are shelves to the left and a desk with a computer in the corner to your right, and the bed is straight ahead, I'll put the suitcases there. Do you need help unpacking?" he sounded uncertain, and I smiled slightly.

"No, Cha...Dad, it's fine, I can do it myself. Thanks for the offer," he left the room and I closed the door behind him then set about memorising the layout carefully. I found the shelves first, completely empty, which would be useful, then the bed with the suitcases on top. Once I had everything placed in my mind and had done my best to memorise the number of steps it took to get from one spot to the next, I turned my attention to unpacking.

Opened the first suitcase, the one that said 'Clothes' in my own shaky Braille script on the tag, and started unpacking, being sure to hang everything in the closet with the Braille tags outwards so I would know what was what.

I then turned my attention to my second suitcase, and carefully unpacked my books, placing them lovingly on the shelves pushed back enough that the Braille on the bindings wouldn't be damaged by someone brushing past. I then unpacked my CDs and CD player, organising them just so on their shelf so I could find what I wanted quickly and easily. My Braille textbooks, which I had had to get for myself, went into my backpack, along with my stylus, paper frame and paper. I put my toiletries aside to put in the bathroom, and my small bottle of prescription pain medication went on my beside table.

I heard the doorbell ring downstairs, and Charlie called up, "Bells, dinner's here!"

I picked up my cane and made my way out of my room, nowhere near comfortable enough in my surroundings to walk without it. I made my way slowly down the stairs, one hand gripping the banister, the other carefully feeling in front of my with my cane.

As I reached the bottom and paused, Charlie called out to me. "In here, Bells. I got pizza, hope that's alright."

"It's fine, Dad," I replied, just grateful that, firstly, he hadn't tried to cook, and secondly, he had ordered something I could eat with my fingers. I was slowly learning to use cutlery again, but it wasn't a pretty sight. I made my way into what I remembered being the lounge room, and heard Charlie stand. "There's a chair to your right, Bells," he said, moving to guide me to it.

"I'll find it," I snapped, raising a hand to stop him, and swung my cane around until it encountered something soft. I sat quickly and smiled slightly in triumph. A moment later, a flash of remorse filled me. "Sorry, Charlie, I didn't mean to snap, I just..." I couldn't finish my sentence, feeling bad for being so rude when he was just trying to help. I got my independent nature from my other and my clumsiness from my father, but I wish I could get him to understand this.

"That's okay, Bells. Two pieces enough?"

"Plenty," I replied as I heard the chink of china, and a moment later he approached. I put my hand out and he handed me a plate. I ran my hand around the edge until I encountered a piece of pizza.

We ate quickly and, when I finished, Charlie took my plate.

"Umm...Dad, before I go to bed, could you show me where the bathroom is and where I can keep my stuff?" I asked, uncertain.

"Of course, sweetheart. Sorry, I should have done that earlier," he said quickly, and I heard him stand. I followed him back upstairs and he led me to a door at the end of the short hall, only a few steps past my own, "I put up a shelf for you here," he guided my hand up to feel it. "I put a ledge on it so your stuff wouldn't fall off."

"Thanks, Dad," I said, my eyes watering slightly at his thoughtfulness.

"I'm gonna go and catch the end of the game," he told me, sounding slightly awkward at my gratitude.

"Okay, Dad, I'm pretty tired, so I'm gonna go to bed," I told him. I collected my toiletries and set them out on the shelf, everything just so. I was sure that, if anyone ever came through here and didn't know about me, it would look like I had OCD.

I brushed my teeth and braided my hair back from my face, then headed to bed.

I woke gasping, my mind fogged with dreams I couldn't remember. My head ached, the skin around my eye sockets felt tight, stretched, and I knew the damaged muscles were pulling too tight. I fumbled around and found my alarm clock, pressing the button on top.

"Five thirty AM," said the cool female voice. I got out of bed with a sigh and took out my braids before selecting an outfit and laying it on my bed. I took a long shower, working some of the tension out of my shoulders and head, washing with painstaking slowness as I kept hitting myself on the sides of the shower, it being much smaller than the one I used in Phoenix.

Finally dressed, I made my way downstairs, my bag slung on my back, and found Charlie sitting in the kitchen drinking a cup of coffee.

"Hey, Dad," I muttered as I made my way slowly into the room. I tripped suddenly, over nothing but my own feet, and ended up measuring my length on the floor.

"Bells! Are you alright?" Charlie was beside me, trying to help me up, but I shook his hands off.

"I'm fine," I snapped. "Leave me alone." I shook off his hands, which felt more like restraints than the caring help I knew they really were, shuddering away from his touch as it stirred up things best left in the inky blackness my mind had ascribed them too.

That's right. Not only was I blind but, other than odd flashes, I couldn't remember how I got this way. I had odd nightmares every night, which I forgot soon after waking except for the terrified, sickened feeling they left behind, and sometimes a smell, a particular phrase or a feeling gave me the shudders, but I didn't actually know why.

In the six months that I spent in hospital, recovering and undergoing intensive PT, I had also seen a therapist, but nothing had come of it. Those two weeks, as well as some of the time before and after, were a complete blank to me. I honestly didn't know if I wanted to remember, and the therapist told me that, until I did, I probably wouldn't, and that I would continue to suffer from the nightmares and flashes.

"Come and have some breakfast," Charlie told me, ignoring my rude behaviour, which I already felt ashamed of. "Renee said you like breakfast bars, so I got you some. There's fruit juice here too."

Head down, I made my way over to the table and took the plastic wrapped bar Charlie handed me, opening it quickly. I took a bite and chewed slowly, shame filling me once more. He had bought my favourite kind, something else Renee must have told him, and it settled in my belly like a lead weight as I thought once more of how I had acted.

"Apple juice?" Charlie asked.

"Yes please, Dad. I...I'm sorry," I stumbled over the apology.

"It's alright, kiddo. I understand, it's not easy. Your mom understands too…" his voice trailed off as he took in what I'm sure was a mulish expression on my face. "Do you want to pour it?" he offered, having realised that I liked to do be independent.

"Yes please," I replied, and he passed me the juice and a glass. I carefully took the lid off the juice and, taking the glass I hooked one of my fingers over the edge to feel when it was full and started to pour. When I was done I recapped the juice and pushed it further onto the table.

"I'll drop you at school on the way to work. Do you have everything?" asked Charlie a few minutes later, when I'd finished my meagre meal, and I nodded, having packed it all the night before. "What about lunch money?"

"All folded so I know which bills are which, Dad, don't worry," I told him.

"All right then, we should probably head out," he said, and I nodded and followed him to the cruiser.