Chapter One:Myths, Legends, Stories, Tales, Truth

Myths were always a big part of my childhood.

Up until I was ten my dad use to tell me stories about monsters, the stories themselves didn't scare me, it was the way my dad looked as he was telling me them, staring into

something unknown,the way he would describe everything so perfectly, and so carefully, like he had been there before.

He wholeheartedly wanted me to believe everything he was saying.

At first I was fascinated by these tales, as any little kid would be.

Not only because of what they were about, but because the stories came from my dad.

The one man I looked up too.

As I got older, the details become harsher and harsher, more vivid and scarier, more then anything they become real.

They didnt scare me in the way you would think, they excited me and intrigued me, but they scared me to think i knew these people somehow.

By this time, my mother had, had enough. I came home from fifth grade, to my bags packed, and loaded into my mothers Suv, and the Uhaul behind it.

My father Charlie was the chief police officer in Forks, Washington.

My mother Renee knew the perfect time to take me away would be right after school.

My dad would be patrolling the schools, and such, making sure all the kids were safe.

He'd never think for one minute that the one child he wouldnt be watching, would be on their way to Phoenix, Arizona.

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"Isabella, grab your coat, and get into the car right away", my mother said to me as tears filled her eyes.

I knew right away not to question her logic, my mother never called me Isabella, unless something was wrong.

I was always taking care of my mom, so for her to plan, whatever it is that she had planned, without my help, or my fathers, also excited me, and scared me more then anything.

I ran as fast as I could into the house, tripping and slipping, every few inches or so.

When I finally reached my bedroom, it was empty. Everything I ever owned was gone, I couldnt resist the urge to look into my parents room which was now also bare and desolated.

It only consisted of a bed, a dresser, and some other things my father owned.

Tears started to welled into my eyes, but were quickly pulled back in, by the sound of my mother hitting the gas peddle.

I threw my coat on as I tripped down the stairs.

My mother was behind the wheel, ready to accelerate, the minute my butt hit the seat and my belt was buckled.

If you knew my mother, she was worse then me.

She needed to be taken care of, and I needed to take care of her.

Not in the sense of, I had to take care of her or else.

I just wanted to take care of her, if I wasnt, I didnt feel whole, I didnt feel right.

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She was clumsy, careless, adventerous, outgoing, and fun, but she had her limits, like heights, and driving fast.

Today Renee was like Jeff Gordon behind the wheel, and that scared me more then I could describe, because that wasnt like her at all.

I laid my head back, closed my eyes, and dozed off.

I couldnt tell you exactly what happened next, or the following week. I just know that somehow we had left cold, gray, rainy, Forks, and now were in hot, sunny, Phoenix.

I remember when I had finally slipped out of my daze, I was shocked.

I was in such disbelief, I was now waiting for the police to show up at the door at any minute.

It never happened, they never came, and my dad never barged through the door to take me home.

I couldnt understand if I was more worried, hurt, scared, lost, annoyed, mad, or relieved that my father never showed, relieved that there would never be some big over dramatic

argument, per usual between my mother and my father, or for lack there of, my mother arguing with Charlie.

I was going to start at Centennial Middle School the following week