Dear Readers,

This is Aries here! And Welcome to my first-ever Twilight Fanfiction. I must state that I do not own any of the characters of Twilight, unfortunately, if I had.. Jacob, Seth and basically all the awesome characters of La Push would be put to their full potential.

However, I do own my O.C. Kee, whom I hope you will become fond of, if not, hate her, but hate her in a good way . Not sure what the hell I'm saying. Anyways... Please review, favorite, follow.

But I do appreciate reviews because it gives me an opinion. Even ask questions.

Now ENJOY~

Chapter One: Homecoming :(

"It's only for a little while Kee…" Nothing permanent…" Dad said in a reassuring tone, as we drove pass a faded sign that read Welcome to La Push, Washington! and down a dirt road, covered by trees, sheltering us from the rain.

Though the way he sounded made it seem like he was trying to reassure himself more than me.

I'd like to say that I've never heard that before, but that would be a lie. Often times, I would try to pray it was. But it wasn't. Prayers have failed me.

Sometimes, I don't know. It almost seems like he hates uprooting me from "home", over and over again, but I honestly don't know about that, because he still does it.

As for what's going on: He is again, dumping me onto another one of his family members. It's a great tradition of his really; this isn't the first time and probably won't be the last. At least, not till I'm eighteen.

"That's what you said the "last time"… And the time before that… And the time before that time…" I mumbled, feeling a little bit of vile sneak up my throat, as I pull at the sleeves of my worn-out gray sweater, sinking further into the passenger seat.

Last time he said that, he left me at Great-Aunt Ginger's, all the way in Pennsylvania, which would've been fine and dandy if it hadn't been for seven months!

Seriously, Pennsylvania's pretty and all, awesome if you want some nice pictures of scenery, and into all that peace and quiet.

But me?

I'm not into all that peace and quiet. In fact that shit bores the hell out of me. And I'm sure not all of Pennsylvania's like that, but where I was at….

All I could think of at night was, Please…. Just shoot me…

Though I don't necessarily like Pennsylvania, I love Ging; she's pretty kickass for an old biddy. But seven months seemed, and is, too long to stay away from Bacon.

No I don't mean the meat, I mean my dog, the most adorable little brown pug in the whole world.

Anyways, I couldn't bring him with me due to the fact ol' Ging had an allergy to dogs. It's so serious that I had to unpack all my stuff outside of the house; vaccum and re-clean everything to make sure that no trace of doggy dandruff was left behind.

I probably would've stayed longer, but Great-Aunt Ginger was put in the hospital, because a car ran her over, well, not over-over, but it did break her back.

Not it wasn't my fault. It was all done by some kid, who was just doing a regular driving test. It's just safe to assume that he failed, and hopefully won't be driving anytime soon, or ever at all. Then again, old biddies get run over all the time, don't they?

Anyways, back to the subject at hand, Dad's now bringing me to Auntie Sue, his younger sister. I think, no scratch that I know she's the only relative that won't ever shun me for what I can't help but be… (Well her and Great-Aunt Ginger)

An Albino…. And no I'm not just some pale white kid without a tan, just saying "I'm an albino." I'm a Native American - Indian with no pigmentation, red eyes and white hair.

If that's not albino, I don't know what is.

So far, I'm the only known Albino in the family. The "Black" Sheep, the oddball. None of my siblings show any signs of being even remotely Albino. Being an Albino has caused me to be carted around like a damn animal in a carrier.

Now normally, anyone would say, Dude you're an Albino, so the fuck what?

Religion holds strong on my mother's side of the family. God means something to them, and that in turn means something to my mother, which in turn strong arms my father.

My mother has superstitions due to her religion, and the birth of my older siblings and I can explain it.

My older brother, Nahuel had, and still does have, hair as dark as night itself and skin of caramel and had been an easy birth as well. My mother and Dad enjoyed his health and watched him grow strong.

My older sister, Migsi, had been the same, in looks and in the birthing process, easy, little pain. Same with my second eldest brother, Tocho, only maybe a bit more pain. All three were healthy with no defect of any kind.

And my parents had thought the same looks would be passed onto me when my time came. I would look normal, as the children before me, but I hadn't been, and I would have been an easy birth, pain, but little. But I hadn't been.

It was worse than anticipated.

Instead of being easy, I tore her from the inside. The damage my birth had cause her body was so bad, she almost died. Instead my birth caused her to be unable to have any more children after me.

Dad wasn't there at the time, on the road because of work.

My mother partly blames his absence for the way I look.

See, she thinks that if he had been there, like the births before, no complications would have happened. My "malfunction" would have never happened.

She woke up, days later, screaming for a baby, she though she lost.

The nurse came in with me, small, weak, shriveled like a prune, and pale as the moon.

My mother said, You do know I'm Indian, right?

The nurse insisted to her that I was indeed her child, explained why I looked the way I look. My mother cried a long wail, for mothers who mourned their children's deaths.

When Dad had reached for me, my mother screamed at him, Don't touch it!

It…

Why did I have to be an It?

I was just a baby. I didn't plan the way I came out or how I looked. It just happened. But I was already an it.

Dad said that the moment she yelled, I opened my eyes. It would have, maybe, made things better if I hadn't come out with red eyes. But I did.

This made her screams even louder, shouting she had given birth to the Antichrist. That Satan had possessed me. Dad watched in horror as his wife, shrieking, squirming under the weight of hospital nurses, was carted off to the psyche ward.

Doctors claimed she would get better.

Months passed by. My mother couldn't stand to look at me. Or to even hear me. Bottles of medicine hadn't helped. Therapy hadn't helped.

Finally, she locked herself in my parents' bedroom, refusing to be in the same room as me.

And before anyone could think the word 'hospital', she tried committing suicide.

"Did you remember to put in your contacts?" I peeked at him from under my bangs, and rolled my eyes. Of course he wouldn't notice that I've had them in this entire time.

My Dad has only looked at me, maybe 2 times in my life.

Once when I was born, and the second being the first time I put them in.

He said, I looked almost normal…

Dads….

But I get why he bought them for me. I have trouble seeing and I apparently have creepy eyes. The contacts help in both ways. I can now see…. And look "almost normal".

"Yeah. " I watched as a smile broke out across my father's face, the corner of his eyes crinkling.

"That's my girl. Always two steps ahead of her old man." To this I can't help but allow a small smile to play on my lips; these were the moments I craved, when I sat in the lunchroom eating alone, and these were the moments I craved whenever I got a good grade and no one to share it with; to show them how hard I worked to get it.

These moments were so few, that when they were gone, I'd replay every piece of it, for days on end, till I had everything, to the last itty-bitty detail.

When all is done, I will hang my head like a hunter who lost his prey; who will now have to store buy and claim to his family he caught it all by himself.

Often times, I starved for any good attention from my family; so much so it made me a bit ashamed… it made me weak, too weak to carry on in this world.

In this life, there should be no room to be weak.