Hello,

I used to go under the name CullenGirl30. I recently changed my name. Anyway, this story is actually being re-posted. If you want to know why, please check out my profile, there is a full explanation there. I am warning you that there are dark themes in this story. This isn't your regular Mob story. You will understand better in Chapter four.

Warning: Dark Themes.

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or any of its characters.

Chapter One: Isabella

I hated the winter.

I hated the coldness, hated how the wind blew into my face, burning my skin deep red. I hated the amount of clothes that were supposed to be worn in order to keep you warm. They made me uncomfortable, it all made me uncomfortable. I didn't feel good. I despised it all. Every little bit of it.

Yet of all things, I grew to hate the snow. How it kept falling. How piles of layers and layers of dirtied white sat on the ground, unnaturally so. I couldn't stand the color of it.

I never loathed white so much as I did during the winter. It blinded my eyes whenever I looked out a window, or went out for fresh air. I was irritated of the peaceful feeling it gave. I couldn't bear it. It was far from peaceful; like how heaven was far from hell, like how good was far from evil.

The serenity reminded me that angels didn't exist and that the world I lived in was ugly and as similarly fake. Just like the snow –with its false beauty covering the dirt and the filth of its core.

I'd wait impatiently, wondering when it would disappear and never to return again. I'd sit and wish that it never existed because I couldn't take away the pain it brought every time I looked outside. I wished to escape the place I called home because it wasn't.

Deep inside, I knew that I was lying to myself.

I didn't hate the snow.

The life I lived made me feel this hatred. The long hours I spent working under the freezing cold had made me bitter and angry about the winter. My anger over my own misery and helplessness had been directed at the snow. But it wasn't the snow's fault. There was no choice but for it to fall. The snow winter brought would have been the most beautiful innocence if it weren't for its bad timing. It would have been breathtaking if it weren't for those horrible miserable months.

I could still remember that day like it was yesterday.

She said that it was too late for medications and that the cancer had reached the point where it couldn't be removed. There was too much of it and all they could do was try to slow the process down. They gave her an estimate of six months. Six months to live. The horrifying memory of the scene still brought tears to my eyes. I remember crying until the tears could not fall anymore.

All too soon, the bills started to pile up and I realized that mom would not be able to handle them anymore. I remember walking down the streets and looking for any available jobs until the sun began to set. I searched until it was too dark to see and until my legs could no longer cooperate with my body. I came back home with a tear-stained face, and ran to the bathroom just in time to clean myself up so mom wouldn't see my pathetic state of being.

Fortunately, it was a couple of days later that I had finally found a job. I cleared all my savings that day and paid some of the small bills that my savings could afford.

I hid the loans away from her but I had a feeling that she always knew about them. I guess I was like an open book to her. She could see right through me. Nevertheless, whether or not she had known, she never mentioned them, and for that I was glad.

Two months.

They passed by so fast, I had barely noticed. As I worked, I watched my mother grow weaker and paler by the day; with pills that slowed the cancer down, but at the same time, weakened her already damaged immune system. It was hard looking at her without a lump forming in the back of my throat, swallowing the tears that were about to fall. It was hard doing anything when she'd sit next to me and fight for her life.I was 15 for god's sake. I wasn't supposed to experience this. I still needed my mom. It wasn't god damn fair.

A week before school started, I decided to drop out and help mom around the house. I knew that that she was dying slowly. She still tried to be strong, even though a piece of her faded, day by day. She put on her brave face and always acted happy no matter what the situation was.

"Don't even think about it, Bella! Do you want me to die now? I don't want to hear those words. You will go to school like every person in your age does," Renee scolded me furiously.

I shook my head, "Mom, you know very well that we don't have a choice. I've done some advanced courses. Nothing will happen if I am held back a year," I tried to reason with her.

"Your education is more important Bella," she murmured. Her voice cracked and I could tell she was holding back sobs. "You can't waste your future on me. You have to make a life for yourself and worry less about others," she finally said, coming back to her normal voice.

"What are you saying mom?" I yelled in frustration, not hiding the tears this time, "I love you, you're the most important person in the world to me, and I'll take care of you no matter how much you refuse to acknowledge it."

Why was it so hard reliving that memory? I remembered it so perfectly, so clearly, as if it had just happened. Was it because that day her illness finally sank down in our minds? Or was it because we couldn't stop crying together for the suffering and pain that we were both going through?

I never remembered a more pitiful scene than that Sunday morning. I remembered my mother's tears, overflowing, breaking my wall that I had built and bringing back that vulnerability that I tried so hard to suppress.

The realization that my mother was actually dying was the hardest, more difficult than hearing it or denying it. It was even harder than accepting it and letting go. It had never occurred to me what I'd do after she'd be gone. How much I would miss her and wish for her to appear. It had never occurred to me that she won't be there when I'll graduate, get married, or have children.

The thought of my miserable future left me angry and dejected. I didn't understand why I deserved that fate, or why mom did. For the first time in my life, I questioned God's actions. Why had he done so? What had we done so wrong to receive such a fate?

The next three months were painful. Mom looked worse than before, her thin body reflecting the skeleton that was shown in biology class at school. Crying at that point was already impossible for me. I was drained both physically and mentally.

My own home felt like a graveyard; empty and dead. The smell of sickness grew into the walls and made itself known at night as I tried to get enough sleep to have strength for work. I didn't know who I was anymore. I didn't recognize myself as I stared back at my reflection in the mirror

At that time, winter season had just begun. The snow was falling continuously, not stopping to let people take it all in. I started to shovel out snow from peoples' driveways. The work was hard but I sucked it up and I told myself that mom needed this right now.

The snow made everything look so peaceful that I had wanted nothing but to ruin it and prove everyone that it wasn't what it felt like. I wanted to strip it nude, layer by layer, to reveal the blackness it was so full of on the inside.

I'd see families walking together, making snowmen and laughing at not so funny jokes. I gazed at them with envy because in a month or two I would be completely alone. The fear of loneliness overwhelmed me. I didn't know how I would deal with it. But I didn't want to know nor think about it. It was still too early, was what I had kept telling myself.

A week later when I came from work, I found mom on the floor trying to reach the phone to call 911. I ran and helped her to the couch. I called the ambulance as soon as I could, incoherently explaining the sight I saw when I stepped into the apartment. They arrived after painfully long minutes, and I went with them as they put my mom in the car and drove away to the hospital.

I could still hear the doctor's voice in my head informing me that she was getting worse and that she needed to stay in the hospital from now until she...died. God, I couldn't even say the word.

That month was the longest month in my entire life.

That month my mother passed away from cancer.

The hospital room was suffocating. The beeping noise of the machine was driving me crazy. Mom kept slipping in and out of unconsciousness in such a manner, that I didn't know when she was awake or asleep.

"Bella," I finally heard her hoarse voice whisper.

I glanced at her, trying not to cry over her weak state, "I'm right here mom," I said, grasping onto her cold hand.

"You know that I am very proud of you right?" she smiled weakly.

I nodded while the lump in my throat threatened to explode.

"If I could yell out how proud of you I am, I probably would," she continued, once she grabbed my attention. "You're too strong for your own good, you know? Putting on a brave face just for me every day, hiding all the bills, and never letting me know about anything that would slightly worry me," she said, laughing. I noticed a single tear falling down her cheek, but she quickly brushed it away.

"Promise me that you'll go back to school from now on," she then demanded, fully serious.

"I promise," my voice cracked. My throat felt dry and I knew that if I'd say something now I'd probably start crying.

She nodded, "good," she said and continued, "There is an envelope with five thousand dollars in the back of my closet. I want to you take it and leave as soon as you can. There is a plane ticket to Washington under your name. You just have to confirm a date and time and they'll let you go," she explained. "You passport and your other documents are also in that envelope."

"Mom, what are you talking about? Everything will be okay. We're going home as soon as you gain your strength back," I replied, confused. I almost laughed at the state of denial I was in.

My mom shook her head, "I think you and I know very well that it's not going to happen, Bella," mom informed me, smiling sadly.

"I don't want you to end up in one of those foster homes. There is an address with a phone number that I want you to go to when you reach Washington. You'll know exactly everything once you open that envelope, but just promise me that you'll do it right away," she ordered in a tone that didn't take 'no' for an answer.

"Mom, what are you talking about?" I asked again, my voice rising in panic, "I love you and you're going to be okay. Stop talking about this, please," I begged her, squeezing her bony hand even tighter than before.

"Bella, please don't do this," she whispered, "I love you too. I love you more than anyone and anything in the world, but you have to understand that it's over, honey," she said with a tired voice.

I could hear her breaths coming short. I could hear the heart monitor beeping unevenly. I could feel as she was slowly slipping away.

Mom closed her eyes and breathed in and out to regain some strength.

"I love you Bella, you're the perfect daughter any mother could ask for, never forget that. Live your life and reach the dreams that you wish to achieve," she whispered in a raspier voice than before. A short moment later, the monitor went dead.

I shot up in panic, "Mom? Mom? Mom, wake up! Mom you have to wake up!" I begged, "Don't leave me mom, I love you, please don't leave me…"

It was no use. Her hand was motionless as were her body; unresponsive, unmoving.

Dead.

Xxx

My memory was unclear after that. I didn't notice the doctors coming in, performing some other operations to bring back a heartbeat. I was too numb. I didn't notice my tears or sobs that were coming from my own body until the nurses rushed me away into the waiting area, giving me something to drink.

At that moment, nothing felt more satisfying than dying, leaving this world to join my loving mother. I wondered how I could live on without her by my side.

I remember, how after putting the last flower on her grave stone, I quickly ran to our apartment, and packed my stuff. I was so scared to be found by child services because I've heard so many horrible stories about them. My own death would have been more pleasant than staying in those so called foster homes.

I took only my necessary items. I grabbed a small snack from the cupboard so I wouldn't die of starvation, and remembered taking the envelope my mom instructed me from her closet. I closed the door as I left, never looking back at the place that used to be my home for the last sixteen years.

I called a cab, rode to the airport, confirmed my ticket and got on the plane.

Sitting on that plane, I fully realized what was happening to me. I was 15 years old, escaping to a place I've never been to before to meet a person who I had never seen. As it all came down crashing to me just like the day I found out my mother was sick, I broke down and cried. I cried for my dead mother whom I terribly missed, and cried for my pitiful existence.

Was that how my life was going to be? Was that how I was going to live it? Rotting away slowly in the pain that I could never erase? Why did it have to be me? Why did I have to have such bad luck?

As I continued to ask myself these questions, I finally sobered up and let myself fall into a restless sleep for the first time in weeks.

Xxx

My distasteful mood could not distract me from the beautiful suburban area that the bus stopped at. It was dark outside and I didn't fail to notice the total isolation that surrounded the place. There was a convenience store ahead, not even five minutes away.

I glanced at my watch for the first time that day and noticed that it was 1 in the morning. I placed all my things on my back and began to walk towards the direction of the convenience store in hopes for a free phone call and a slight knowledge to where exactly I was.

It was very dark outside and I was very scared. I suddenly remembered that I hadn't eaten in a while and that both dehydration and fear encouraged my dizziness. I needed to hurry up and get to the store.

As I was walking, I had an abrupt feeling that I was being followed. Unfortunately, I ignored it. The next thing I knew was a hand covering my mouth and a knife being pointed to my throat. After that everything went black.

Xxx

A/N: Too much angst? get ready for an emotional roller-coaster. Please review and tell me what you guys think ;)