Note: I am not Stephenie Meyer, nor do I wish to be.

This first chapter was inspired by the song Stronger by Britney Spears. Once you get to the part where the lights dim and Bella begins singing, start playing the song. It helps you get in the mood, as well as understand the lyrics!

Also, keep in mind that Edward is watching her concert. It'll be fun to see how his reactions play out later.

Please read my author's note at the end of this. Hope you guys like it!

"Give it up for Bella Swan and the Sixteen Hounds!" The enthusiastic announcer shouted into the microphone, holding it way too close to his mouth. I winced, waiting for the inevitable faltering in the microphone's sound. The speakers emitted an unpleasant, wavering tone for a moment before fading into the first few beats of our song.

Bella Swan and the Sixteen Hounds—funny, I thought, without a trace of humor. As my group stepped onstage, it became painfully clear to the audience what an exaggeration had been made. There were four of us, including me. But the way the audience felt about this exaggeration was very different from mine—nearly all 600 audience members clapped and hollered our group name, probably too drunk to care that it didn't make sense, or laughing at the nonsense of it.

I remembered the day Jake had convinced me to be the group's lead singer. It was the same day he suggested—or, rather, forced upon us—our group name.

"Shut up, Jake. That was awful—don't even try to argue with me." I had told him after singing a random song for him, after his weeks of nagging. Yet despite the embarrassment of singing in public—well, only for Jake, but that still counts—some small part of me wanted to know how I'd done. The only times I'd sing were in the shower and in my car, along with the radio, but never in front of anyone.

"Bells," He said earnestly, almost awed. "That was really pretty." I could feel the blush creeping up my cheeks, and opened my mouth to cut him off. But Jacob held a finger to my lips.

"No, really, Bella. You have a great voice—it's crystal clear." He saw the argument in my eyes fade, probably because of our close proximity, or the fact that his finger was warming my lips, and he leaned in and kissed me.

It was a nice kiss. Sweet, warm, and tender—Jacob poured his feelings for me into one kiss. I knew I would regret allowing him to kiss me—and, in turn, making me forget my argument—but at the time I couldn't remember why, or bring myself to care. All I could think about was the feel of Jacob's warm, familiar lips on mine.

All too soon the kiss was over, and Jacob pulled away from me, his hands holding my shoulders back gently, but with an inescapable force. He leaned in, resting his forehead on mine. "Bella," He murmured. "Please be our lead singer?"

And with that, the last of my resolve melted. I hated the power he had over me—how one small, insignificant, yet infinitely sweet kiss could scatter my thoughts and send my heart pounding.

"Stupid, stupid." I muttered with false resentment, unable to keep a smile from spreading across my face. That day had been one of my favorites with Jake. I didn't care that I had lost my argument—it was a moot point, anyways, Jacob would have won eventually—but I loved remembering the way he looked at me with a pure eagerness in his eyes, not far from elation.

Turning my attention to the microphone and audience, I tittered across the stage in the new, metallic silver 4-inch pumps Emily had bought me, insisting that I looked 'smoking' in them. Though I was still far from convinced on that point, Emily had made sure I wear them by unfairly showing me their price tag—I'm sure, in a way to guilt me into wearing them, claiming that it would be a waste of money if I didn't make good use of them.

That point convinced me to wear them tonight. That, and the look in Jake's eyes every time he saw me wearing them. Though he would never admit it, I secretly believe that he would rather have me wear heels than my mundane, comfy sneakers.

I turned my thoughts away from lust for Jacob and focused, again, on my audience at hand.

"Hey, ladies and gentlemen!" I called into the microphones, though the noisy cheers of the audience did not quiet, only grew louder. My confidence didn't falter, though—I was used to this reaction. It was, in fact, a rock concert, and a little, or a lot, of volume added to blaring music never killed anyone.

"This is Bella Swan speaking. We really appreciate you coming out here to hear us! A quick note before moving on—the Sixteen Hounds just wanted to thank Midnight Records for having us. Hope you guys enjoy the show!" I yelled into the microphone, enthusiastic as ever. This was when the adrenaline typically started to kick in, a high I truly lived for. The adrenaline rush I felt before concerts like these was indescribable. Pure exuberance washes over you as you feel drunk and desirable—but mostly desirable, in a really sexy way.

Until experiencing moments like these, I never truly understood why singers and dancers performed in front of audiences. Until recently, I had been pretty shy and nervous myself when it came to public speaking. But after a few concerts with the Sixteen Hounds that went without a hitch, I began growing more confident in my singing and dancing abilities—thus, leading to heels.

The lights dimmed, reminding me that the song was about to begin.

"Our first song is a retake of Britney's 1998 hit single, Stronger." I said into the microphone before stepping back to take my position on stage.

A surreal, blue light shone on stage, washing away any anxiety I might have felt. I was far too experienced to be nervous. I had sung this song—in front of an audience larger than eighty people, I might add—over twelve times. But, along with the adrenaline rush, I felt the familiar tugs of self doubt in my midriff.

I studiously ignored my reaction, drawing on my months' of practice with repressing unpleasant memories, and turned my focus on the music.

The first few beats blared through the speakers before I burst into song. "Ooooh hey, yeaah," I sang, my voice smooth and luxurious, with its depth residing deep in my diaphragm.

"Hush. Just. Stop." With that, I twirled on my heel, a step Jacob insisted I looked sexy doing. Though I usually vehemently rejected compliments of that nature, I couldn't help but believe him because of the twinkle his eyes held as he told me.

I continued singing the melody of the song, stopping only occasionally to add in a few trills and such. As I sang, I performed every dance step to perfection, after weeks of endless practicing. I twirled, dropped, shook, and kicked my leg up in all the necessary places, stopping only to wink at some admirer or a crazed fan, egging the crowd on.

I danced to the music as the melody reached its paroxysm. I smiled into the microphone—this was my favorite part, the most heartfelt part, at least for me.

At first, I always had trouble singing this part in the music—the words were all too familiar, painfully tugging at the remains of a hole in my chest, left by someone too dear and far to care.

The first few months after Edward left, I was simply too numb to cope. I ate, slept, did my homework, and made meals for Charlie—and that was about it. I no longer smiled, blushed, listened to music, or even spent time with friends—anything remotely involved usually contained some aspect that would remind me of him.

But now, as the music reached its peak, I finally understood why singing was so much of a release to me now. Those agonizing months filled with grief, anger, resentment, and disbelief all built up inside me—tearing me apart inside. At first, Jake was my only release, but he could only understand so much. Even now, Jacob still cannot understand why I loved Edward so much.

Songs, such as this one, were my only way of telling the world how I felt—in very few, yet significant words.

"Here I go, on my own now. I don't need nobody, not anybody." I sang, my voice flowing as ever, but rough with emotion.

As the music built up to a promising crescendo, bodies on the dance floor below us swayed, dancing, waiting.

"Here I go." My voice echoed.

"Stronger than yesterday. Now it's nothing but my way." I knelt, allowing the emotions to seep into my voice, only increasing its soulful quality.

"My loneliness ain't killing me me no more. I'm stronger than yesterday." I sang, my voice ringing with a trueness and honesty obvious to even the most unobservant audience member.

Jacob and Quil took over then, engulfing the audience with sounds of their electric guitars. I was grateful for the distraction—I needed a moment to clear my head of any unwanted emotional responses.

The song finished, then—over as quickly as it had started. As if on cue, all 600 members of the audience burst into a round of applause, cheers, whoops, and hollers. I beamed, grinning widely before turning to face my band.

Then, the strangest thing happened.

I caught sight of a tall, pale man dressed in black in my peripheral vision. He looked somewhat familiar, but odd—he stood out from the audience, seemingly the only person not clapping. I turned to look to get a clearer look of him, only to find an empty space against the wall where he once stood. Or maybe it was my imagination.

Despite my constant assurances that he was probably just another party goer—no one interesting or familiar, I was not able to shake off the odd sense of déjà vu. I was bathing in the sensation of being watched. My senses were on high alert, and Jake's friends probably thought I was insane by the way I twitched uncomfortably.

We exited the stage, only to be showered with compliments by fans and audience members who were impressed by our performance. A girl who looked to be about sixteen—much too young to be at a club, I thought—ran up to me, shoving a notebook and pen at me. "Bella Swan! Oh my goodness—that was amazing!" She squealed, enunciating every syllable of 'amazing.' "Please, please, please sign my notebook! When and where is your next performance? I'll be there!" She promised breathlessly, probably a result of her run to be one of the first in line to compliment us. Or too many alcoholic beverages. I wasn't sure.

While signing her notebook, my eyes scanned the crowd, itching to see the strange, pale man that caught my eye earlier. Where could he have gone? Did he come closer to the stage to greet our band? I asked myself, suddenly nervous to an excruciating degree.

That notion was probably ridiculous—if he had been close to our stage, I would have seen him by now.

I gave my autograph and smiled automatically to audience members that had enough patience to wait in the long line to ask. Some men's eyes lingered on my black form-fitting, sequined blouse but I couldn't bring myself to be bothered. My mind was occupied with the puzzle of finding the strange, mysterious man in black.

After my hand began aching from signing notebooks, I stopped giving autographs and excused myself for some 'fresh air.' Jenna, the third guitarist of our band, winked at me as we both squeezed through the tightly-packed bodies of the club, searching for, and finding, the notorious back door that led to the outside alley.

We sneaked out the door, desperately clutching our sides to keep from laughing. As soon as the first wave of cool, fresh air hit us—well, as fresh as you can get in Manhattan—our laughter got the best of us, and we exploded into giggles. After relishing the elated, rash feeling of our uncontrolled laughter, we got down to business.

"Do you have my share?" I asked Jenna as soon as I could breathe.

"Of course," She said, reaching into her purse, and drawing out two transparent orange tubes filled with hundreds of tiny pills. "Here you go." She said, handing them to me.

"More than usual? Aww, thanks Jenna." I beamed, happy to be able to double dose tonight. I had twice the servings, so…

"Actually… umm, the second one isn't free…" Jenna mumbled, biting down on her Revlon Red bottom lip, courtesy of Emily's makeup station. "Our normal guy wasn't available, so I had to fudge just a little." She finally looked up at me, her eyes wide with guilt and nerves.

I didn't care about the price, or who she got them from. I was just happy to be fully stocked again, and eagerly pulled out my wallet, handing her four twenties.

"Thanks, Bella." Jenna smiled, happy to be reimbursed. She took out her own orange tube, unlatched the top, and popped two pills in her mouth. I did the same, but with four. I could use the extra jolt tonight, and I definitely had enough stocked up.

"'Kay, so, I'm going back in now. I'm not putting these to waste, and I want to take that cute guy that asked for my signature home tonight." She grinned impishly.

"G'luck with that, Jenna." I answered, unable to prevent a yawn from escaping my mouth. I really was tired. Jake's habit of practicing the guitar at four in the morning was starting to wear on me.

"Bye, Bella." Jenna murmured before slipping inside.

"Bye, Jenna." I answered a moment too late. I closed my eyes, leaning against the brick wall. "Mmmm…" I breathed, feeling the drug starting to take effect.

It was quiet then, and I bathed in the sensation of dreamlike reality and a drunken fearlessness that seemed to overshadow any kind of anxiety I might have felt earlier...

That was when I heard the voice—his voice, to be exact. After three years of replaying, in my mind, the pleasure retained from hearing his voice, seeing his face, holding his hand… none of it compared to the sound of his real voice. It was insane—utterly ridiculous—how one common, mundane, boring, overused word uttered from the right mouth could make my knees wobble, my head throb, and my ears ring, after all these years.

"Hello." Was all he said, his voice a lilting velvet sound in the breeze. After all these years, my memory of his voice had not done him justice at all. The sound of his voice brought a knife to the throbbing, open wound in my chest. I clutched my sides, trying to hold myself together.

I closed my eyes, knowing that he could not really be here.

"Bella?" He murmured, his tone a mixture of concern and longing—all seemingly insignificant, as they were overshadowed by the stunning beauty that was himself, and everything about him.

Hey guys! I really hope you liked this. It took me all evening to finish. I always toyed with different scenarios of New Moon in my head, and this gave me a chance to voice one of them.

Pretty, pretty please leave me reviews as to whether of not I should continue this story, and what you like about it, so I'll know what areas to linger on.

Thanks so much!

-xxtwilight