Sleeping Angels

Bella has leukaemia. With the last couple of weeks approaching before her time is up, Bella decides to go and spend some quality time with her father. While enrolled in the high school for the last time in her life, Bella meets the Cullens and falls in love with Edward Cullen. But with the hands of time ticking her last minutes down how can Bella bear to tell her one love that he's going to lose her before he has a chance to spend any time with her? Sometimes love hurts but will Edward be strong enough for the alternative?

Chapter One

A Ride with an Angel

"Bella honey. Please be careful. I know how rough those airplanes ride can be." Renee, my exocentric, hair-brained mother wrapped her tanned arms around my quivering body. This was the last time we'd be together. I was spending the last couple of weeks I had left with my father Charlie Swan. Her muffled sobs broke through even though she was trying to hide them from me. Cautiously, I pulled her away from me and wrapped her tight in my arms. In our relationship I've always been the mother who was stern and strict; Renee had taken my position as the rebellious teenager willing to try anything. Renee always says I was born a thirty year old and I'd grown older ever since.

I don't think she ever considered the possibility that I wouldn't make it to nineteen years old. I never considered it either to be completely honest. I've always taken the breath I have running through my lungs for granted; I've always acted like it's going to be there forever supporting me. It is true that you don't know what you have until it's taken away.

"I love you mum." Renee was drenched in a floor-length sundress-sleeveless and a deep lime green to coincide with her short, bob length honey-coloured hair-and her fluorescent yellow toenails poked out of a pair of cheap flip-flops with huge sunflowers-white and orange in the centre on each flip-flop strap. Compared to me, she looked and breathed the very essence of summer, of freedom and happiness. Standing next to her in my black jeans, dirty, muddied trainers and brown-fleece jacket I felt like a stick in the mud not worthy of being noticed. Even my long, mahogany hair and mud-coloured eyes clashed and rang out my alabaster face, giving the illusion that I was technically the walking dead, which I technically was.

My leukaemia was discovered just under four months ago by our family doctor Mr Harrison. It's easy to say that he was just as distraught about my condition as Renee and Phil-my step father. Almost instantly I was admitted into hospital while they got a full visual on how far the disease had spread. I fainted when some nurses came to get a biopsy of my bone marrow.

I'll never forget the moment Mr Harrison told me that I had four to five months to live. The actual shock overwhelmed my system and made it impossible for his words to sink in. Renee had sent me to the doctors because I'd complained for a whole week about having bad stomach cramps in my stomach, or should I say I'd tried to suffer in silence but she'd picked up on my out-of-sorts attitude and made the assumption. Sometimes she was the mother in our relationship. Right then, when Mr Harrison told her I was dying; she most certainly was the mother. Phil supported her while she broke down, literally. One of the nurses and a doctor on duty had to help her onto one of the scratchy, cheap sheeted beds while she calmed down.

I'd chosen to spend my time out of the hospital and with my family. For the same reason that's why I'd opted out of chemotherapy. My mother hadn't been very happy about that decision but she'd respected my wishes when I politely informed her that chemo would not work because the cancer had spread too far through my bone. She'd listened to me but she's gone into another mental breakdown.

So here I was; after spending four months roughly with Renee and Phil non-stop I'd decided to visit my estranged father in Forks, Washington. The news of my cancer had shocked him stupid and he'd phoned every night and insisted that either I come down to see him or he'll come up to Phoenix to spend my last few months with me, together as a real family. The idea of my father spending all that money to come down and see me made me feel guilty, so I'd insisted that I'd come down to see him, much to Renee's arguing. It was understandable after all if she didn't want me to leave her sight.

This was the first time we'd so much as spoken about separating, and even now Renee looked like she was itching to board the plane beside me.

"Please honey. We can call Charlie, it's not too late. He can come down here. I don't like the idea of you travelling." As she spoke; I followed her beady gaze to the white plane. It looked pleasant enough, and truthfully I was enjoying the sensation of flying weightlessly through the sky. I'd spent every summer in Forks with Charlie when I was younger, until I'd put my foot down and insisted that he come up here. I honestly wanted to see Forks again one more time. Just once.

The bustling activity around me surrounded my ears and created a fuzzy feeling inside me. It didn't matter that one person was saying her final goodbyes to the ones she loved. I was only one unidentified face in a crowd. No one cared what the tears leaking down my cheeks meant. No one knew why my arms were so thin and bony. No one could possibly know why my skin was so pale and stretched, like rubber across my cheekbones. I kept those secrets locked away for the people who I loved. The world wouldn't stop once I died, Renee and Phil would carry on after mourning, they'd probably have more children; visit my grave regularly in remembrance. It actually hurt a little to consider the fact that my life meant nothing in the grand design. What difference would my death make in the world?

Determined not to let my thoughts intoxicate my tired, aching brain I shut them off and kissed my mother on the cheek, catching a tear that was coming from her left eyelid with the tip of my finger gently.

"You're only wasting your tears mum. There's no way to delay the inevitable." That just made my mother cry harder and before I could comprehend what she was doing; her eyes enveloped me again, harder this time. I'd have bruises later but I didn't mention that fact to my mother, it would only make her feel guilty.

"Goodbye Isabella. I want you to remember that I love you, and that will never change."

"I love you too mum, no matter where I end up, I'll always love you, and Phil." My stepfather was waiting in the convertible outside the airport; the tears were too much for him and I had a sneaking feeling he was hiding so he could cry out the pain and sadness. I'd heard Renee crying every night for the last four months because she didn't want to do it in front of me.

"Platform Nine now boarding." Came a bored voice from the overheard speakers. My mother reflexly tightened her arms on my shoulders, and with a pant of hot breath which went down my neck-making me shiver-she released me completely and took a step back. Then another. Eventually she was two metres away from me, but I couldn't forget the way her arms were twitching to hold me again and never let me go.

"Goodbye mum." I whispered before turning on my heel; ticket in my clammy hand. Huge crowds of people rocketed forward; obviously boarding the same plane as me. Patiently, I let everyone go in front of me and lined up behind the anxious people; some of them were speaking into cell phones, some of them were calling for children and some of them were just checking they had their tickets. The normal sort of actions that people would do when they're leaving their loved ones or returning to them.

My ticket was only one way.

A polite air stewardess glanced at my ticket as I boarded the metal beast that was going to take me to my father. I knew Renee had asked the plane company for some sort of special care in case I had any problems on the plane. I'd heard organise it while I was in the shower, when she thought I couldn't hear her. The surprise therefore was minimal when the air stewardess guided me to wide seat with no one around me except for a young man in the seat furthest from mine, the one near the window.

As soon as we came into view, his hand snapped straight to look-no, appraise me-before he smiled a truly breath-taking grin. A second before he opened his pale, pink lips to introduce himself, stray blonde-almost white-strands of his hair-maybe a fringe of some kind-flopped down to cover his eyes and he swiped it away in annoyance. As he looked into my eyes I noticed his were a remarkable gold, so deep. I could just drown in their depths. His words sounded even prettier, like they were laced in heaven's light and baby's laughter.

"You must be Isabella. My name is Carlisle Cullen." The air stewardess disappeared as soon as Carlisle had spoken with a loose gesture to the seat. Noticing my frozen state, the angel who I was going to be sitting next to frowned and started to rise.

"Would you prefer the window seat? I thought maybe being closer to the isle would make it easier for you if you need to leave in a hurry." No, I didn't want the beautiful angel to move, to feel like I was forcing him to do anything on my behalf; I didn't deserve the attention from such a being. I wondered for a second whether I'd already passed away and gone through the pearly gates of heaven.

So as not to offend the inhuman being I slipped into the seat which had been offered to me and let out a sigh of relief from being off my feet. I'd done too much walking today. Carlisle's frown intensified as he sank back into the patented leather of the plane seat. Somehow Renee had secured a first class seat for my trip so I could be as comfortable as possible. When she had gone into the bathroom I'd phoned the air company and tried to switch it for a 2nd class seat but they'd all been booked and the money was non-refundable.

As I scrutinised Carlisle closer I noticed the designer clothes he was dressed in. A neatly ironed-wrinkle free-beige shirt with causal blue jeans and a light blue tie with even lighter blue stripes diagonally running down it. From this position I couldn't bend over and look at his shoes but I bet they were expensive and leather.

During my examination a voice on the speakers demanded that we put on our seatbelts to prepare for departure and I obliged quickly, not wanting to take my eyes of the angel before me. Carlisle locked his in place with an even more casual ease than the jeans he was wearing. For the next five minutes the air stewardesses went round the whole plane, giving instructions, calming down people who were scared of flying and checking that all the seatbelts were clicked into place. The same woman who'd guided me into the plane came to check on me and Carlisle, and she lingered longer than she should have.

"If you have any trouble Miss Swan, Mr Cullen here is on hand as a doctor. Quite an accomplished one I might add, especially for someone so young." My gaze flashed between the stewardess-her name badge read Mary-and Carlisle, who was nodding at her while keeping his eyes on my face.

"I was given this seat specifically yes; in case you are in need of any medical assistance." Mary nodded her agreement and bustled on with her jobs before going to her part of the plane and buckling in into one of the fold up/down chairs with several holes in the brown leather.

The breath hitched in my throat as the first rounds of movement jutted out from the plane's engine. Heavy panting accompanied my breath as it emerged from my mouth and my heart sped up dramatically as the plane steadily increased its speed as it advanced along the runway. The moment we started to ascend into the sky; all my bodily organs calmed down-my heartbeat slowed down and my breathing returned to normal-the peace of the sky had a numbing effect on the pain that was constantly nagging my body and mind.

The journey-according to Renee-would take about five hours. The wish that it would take longer-a lot longer-came into my mind but I pushed it away. Charlie would be twiddling his thumbs nervously, probably waiting an hour early at the airport in case we arrived earlier than planned. It would be unfair to stay in the sky when my father was waiting for me, especially when our time together was limited.

"So, Isabella..." The steady rocking of the plane began as we evened out-having reached the appropriate distance in the sky-and we were permitted to remove our seatbelts.

"Oh, Bella please." I said kindly; trying to correct him in the politest way possible. He nodded seriously.

"Bella...are you going home to loved ones?"

"I suppose you could say that." Did I want to tell a complete stranger about Charlie? And the responsibility I felt to spend my last few weeks with him. On the other hand, Carlisle looked like an angel; so why in the world couldn't I tell him? What exactly could he do with the information?

"I'm going home to stay with my father. My mother and him separated when I was a baby." I kept my mouth shut so I wouldn't accidently blurt out the fact that I was dying slowly and-rather-painfully. Unloading my troubles on a random stranger; especially a pleasant, charming one like Carlisle was rude and mean. He didn't need to know everything about my life.

However, he had to know something was wrong with me if he was a doctor on hand.

"Do you know about my leukaemia?" The question slipped from my lips like water running from a tap once it has been shut off. Carlisle seemed thrown by the directedness of the sentence but he managed a timid nod as he recovered his expression.

"Yes, I was told that you were into the late stages of leukaemia and may need my assistance at any point along the journey. I was all too happy to help." Well, at least he knew about my leukaemia already, I could not unload something on him when he already knew what it was.

"Well...I wanted to spend some quality with my father before..." The words "before I die" sounded too final and I couldn't force them past my lips. Carlisle seemed to understand the meaning of my sentence and he also seemed to pick up what I couldn't say because he sighed and looked out the frosted window. Rust had claimed the edges, marking them a dusty, rotting red but the actual glass appeared to be like the stuff you'd put in a bathroom. Weren't aeroplanes meant to have proper glass in their windows?

"That is the one thing about the job that I detest. Not being able to help people like you. We know that you're suffering, and we know what it is, but we're defenceless to stop the disease from claiming your lives."

"One day you'll be able to save one of us then, and that will make the rest of our deaths worth it, because once you find a cure no one else will die from it. I'd rather you find the cure later and save people then you rush to find it now and deny those in the future a chance to survive. I don't see why it's fair to choose who lives and who dies. No one can play God." Carlisle shifted slightly in his seat, seemingly uncomfortable. Promptly, I closed my mouth and stopped my rant. Who was I to tell a doctor how to do his job? I'd basically just said the work he did, where he brought people back from the dead with resuscitation and such was him trying to play God, except I hadn't meant that at all.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to come out that way. I meant..."

"I understand what you meant Bella, don't worry. I'm just" A tone in his voice-hidden well but not completely-alerted me to the fact that he was no doubt lying to me, but why would he lie about being hot?

"Would you like me to turn on the air conditioning?" Already, before I could finish I was reaching up to switch on the AC vent so he wouldn't burn up; and his hand collided with mine when he attempted to help me. Electricity singed between us, electrifying all those tiny nerves cells I had in my whole body, setting them on fire. He claimed to be hot when his skin was the temperature of ice?

I wasn't sure how to address him, sir or Carlisle? Doctor maybe?

"Mr Cullen, you may think you're hot but you're skins colder than mine."

"Don't worry about it Bella. My skin is normally low in temperature, I'm not sure why." Was that a good enough answer for me? What if he was really ill and he just couldn't see it? He's a doctor silly, my brain told me, if there's something wrong with him he'd know. Far from content but seeing common sense, I left the point and sat back silently in my chair, counting the lights that ran down the carpeted isle.

By the time I reached thirty seven, Carlisle interrupted my counting-which was actually quite boring-with another question.

"Did you like Phoenix then?" Eagerly-happy to have something remotely more entertaining than counting lights to do-I turned back to him, gracing him with my full attention.

"I loved the sun. I could always stay out in it for as long as I wanted and I never burned. It's the type of freedom I feel when I'm flying. What about you?" Carlisle seemed surprised that I'd asked him his question in return. It was obvious in his eyes that he didn't really have an answer prepared.

"It's not necessarily the place." He said evenly, "I will go anywhere as long as I can help people overcome diseases. I do not understand why people should die when there is a way to save them. No matter how hard or how expensive that method is." I agreed one hundred percent with that statement. It wasn't fair to play God, as I'd said before but it was anything but wrong to save people when you were given the opportunity. Even bringing them back from the dead when they shouldn't have died, I viewed in my book as responsible and kind. No one truly wants to leave living behind fully. Not even me, even if sometimes I put on a good front.

"So, how long have you been a doctor?" Carlisle chuckled at some sort of private joke he was having with himself before he coughed-probably to try and cover up his laughter-before answering.

"I've been a doctor for about three years. I'm twenty three." That was believable. Carlisle didn't have a single wrinkle on his radiant face, his skin was flawless. The only thing that indicated his age was a solid-gold, gorgeous wedding band on his fourth finger along. My stare must have been pointed enough because Carlisle laughed again, this time not bothering to hide it.

"I know I seem young but I couldn't stand to leave Esme-my wife-alone in the world without leaving a mark stating how we felt towards each other." There was a possessiveness in his voice that I wished a man would use when he referred to me, not counting the way a father would talk about his daughter to the male species on a first date, or a second or third for that matter.

"I'm glad that you didn't let anyone stop you from choosing someone you could be happy with for the rest of your life. Most people wouldn't marry at such a young age because of the gossip factor." I didn't mention that I'd probably be part of those people that wouldn't marry. I knew for a fact that I wouldn't take part in the gossip; I didn't understand the point of making assumptions about people's private lives when they were private.

"I didn't realise before how important life is. It's like, before I knew about my leukaemia, there was a distant light in my head warning me that my time here couldn't last forever, and ever since I've been diagnosed it's up close and blinking right in my eyes, if that even makes sense?" Carlisle nodded, a sad, reproachful look in his eyes.

"You can never fully appreciate something until you know it's going to be taken away from you. Life is full of little tricks like that. It's like a test where you're not given the answers." It was amazing just how accurate that statement was. I felt like somehow everyone around me had cheated fate and snook in a peak at the answers to life while I'd played honest. I knew it was wrong of me to think like that but I couldn't help myself. I'd accepted fully that I was dying, and that I'd never come back to Renee and Phil again, at least not living and breathing. It was still hard for me to sit here, in the midst of so many people who took the gift of life for granted. No one understand the significance of life, not like I did now.

"Are you alright Bella?" Carlisle asked in concern when I was silent for more than five minutes, just staring blankly at the stretchy, brown leather on the empty seat in front of me. Was I alright? I was alright in the sense he was seeking when he asked me that question. There was no pain in any part of my body; every system and bone was thankfully numb for once. If he meant was I alright with dying so young, than yes I was alright with that as well. What I wasn't alright with was that no one else seemed to realise what they were taking for granted, and I didn't want anyone to realise what I'd realise in the way I'd realised it.

No one deserved that type of punishment.

"Yes, I'm perfectly fine." My voice was snippy, like an aggravated bear being disturbed from its hibernation. Carlisle was struck silent for a moment; probably wondering whether he should continue this conversation if it was causing me obvious distress.

"Are you sure because you don't sound like it. I'd wager that there is something wrong..."

"Other than the obvious." I interrupted him. It was obvious from the sincere glow in his eyes that he didn't want to hurt my feelings by continuing down the road in this conversation and he shut his mouth and concentrated on staring out the window. Giving me the space I was no doubt shouting that I wanted through my body language.

We travelled in silence for the rest of the trip. Throughout the whole five hours I was contemplating confiding in him, telling him those four words that I didn't dare utter to anyone. Carlisle acted like he already knew how I felt, he was acting like he knew what emotions waged war inside my chest, even though knowing someone's emotions was impossible. Maybe he was extra perceptive because he was a doctor. Didn't you have to be extra vigilant when you were a doctor in case your patients were hiding something? An injury that they didn't want to tell you about or something? Of course, I was no doctor so I didn't know how that kind of thing worked.

The seatbelt light flashed on overhead and I once again obliged to the command and grabbed the piece of plastic in my hands. Carlisle had already done his up before I'd even grabbed the plastic for mine. I knew from the way he was holding his body that he wanted to speak to me, to say something as a final goodbye maybe. The intense pressure to tell him those four words, to let them escape from my chest was almost overwhelming me, but I managed to hang onto a thread of sanity, meaning I kept my whits about me and didn't say anything.

The bumpy descent brought back the bone-crunching, spine-chilling pain into every part of my body, and I worked hard not to cry out in pain. Carlisle wasn't fooled by my feeble attempts.

"Where does it hurt?" He didn't bother asking me if I was alright this time, he just went straight into business. Gradually the pain faded, the grinding of my bones against some sort of other material stopped and I could breath freely again, not easily, far from easily but it was regular again. It took a lot of effort on my part to unstrap my seatbelt and gently prop myself on my feet.

"I'm ok now. It was just the bumpy descent." All around me expensively dressed people were collecting their overhead luggage and chatting with friends as they left the metal vehicle.

"It was nice meeting you Doctor Cullen. Thank you know, being there in case something bad happened to me." I said, holding out a hand for him to shake before I departed to find my father. Carlisle seemed thrown for a moment-to the point I wondered if he'd ever had to shake a hand before-and then he regained his whits and gently shook my hand, his freezing cold skin was soothing against my fever hot hand.

"It was a pleasure." Before he could comment on the temperature of my skin like I'd commented on his I quickly swerved and bobbed to the exit of the plane, managing a futile wave at Carlisle, who was following me after releasing his briefcase from the overhead compartment.

Mary gave me a weary smile as I left the plane and went to meet my father.

Charlie had been ecstatic to see me again; until he'd remembered the reason behind it and then he'd just seemed glum. I could see how this stay was going to be. I knew it was hard for my parents to accept what was happening to me; and I knew it would be no competition if someone offered to give my leukaemia to Renee or Charlie in order to save me. Parents would do anything for their children.

We'd collected my luggage and gone to my father's police cruiser. He's the Chief of Police for Forks, which means he's up at early hours in the morning and he sometimes spends a lot of time after his normal hours in the station, helping out wherever he can. I've already warned him that if he stops helping the people of Forks to spend time with me I'll personally go and drink cyanide just to end everyone's misery. He didn't really react well to that but I think he knew I was kidding.

Charlie's brown, curly hair was shorter than last time I'd seen him and his brown eyes were as deep, with etched lines round the corners as they'd been last summer. His hair line might have been receding a little though, not that I'd tell him that. He was dressed in his uniform, which consisted of a blue button up, short-sleeved shirt, blue trousers, a blue tie and several shiny, silver badges; some even had gold on them. I've never stopped to read what it says on Charlie's badges but I found myself mysteriously wanting to know. My brain wanted me to note everything tiny detail around me.

Like the way the trees swayed in the gentle breeze like dancers on a dance floor; like the way the wind sounded like it was whistling as it collided with the metal of Charlie's car. Grey clouds hung over the whole of Forks, casting a dark, daunting atmosphere which I thought was quite appropriate for me. I was soon going to be in the unknown with no way back. The road was wet as the first drops of splattering rain descended from the heavens and the cracks in the tarmac were the first things to slowly fill as we passed them. Charlie started a conversation just as we stopped at a traffic light on the corner of a bait store for the local fisherman; Charlie was part of that group as well. I wondered vaguely if it would be good to spend some time with Charlie while learning to fish but I decided against it. Fishing has never interested me before, and I was a know danger magnet, so I'd probably hook my lip instead of an actual fish.

"How are you Bells?"

"I'm good Charlie. What about you? How you holding up?" Thankfully, we'd got in the car before the rain started, so I was bone dry.

"I'm doing good considering the circumstances." He told me, trying to act brave and prevent his lip from quivering. Charlie and I both share the fact that we don't like displaying emotion, so I knew he wouldn't cry in front of me no matter how much he wanted to.

"Renee said to say hello." She hadn't said that in so many words but I thought it'd lift the atmosphere if I mentioned something not related to my disease or death. It works in the movies. It worked as well. We spent the rest of the drive talking about Phoenix and how different Forks was going to be. How much colder and soggier. Charlie laughed at my reaction to that and I didn't blame him. The idea of spending time in the wet and cold made me feel slightly nauseas.

We finally pulled up in front of my father's three-bedroomed, white, terraced house. There weren't any lights on inside and Charlie turned of the cruiser and just...sat in the car for a while, waiting for me to say something obviously.

"It hasn't changed." Okay, I wasn't going to be chosen for the smoothest talker but it snapped Charlie out of his trance. Something had snatched my attention when we'd first pulled in; an ancient red/orange truck-the colour of rust-was parked on a slant with brand-new black tyres. Charlie noticed my stare and smiled properly for the first time.

Silently, he brandished a pair of keys from his pocket and put them in my hand, after unclamping the fingers which seemed to have gone into lockdown.

"It's a welcome home present Bells. You need a way to get to school when I'm not around, and you need a way to get back. Plus, I don't think you want your old dad picking you up and taking you home do you?" I have to admit, that predicament didn't seem appealing, but I couldn't believe that Charlie had gone ahead and bought me a car! That would have majorly expensive with him and I didn't want to be a bother. Having a lot of money spent on me sort of cancelled down to me being a bother in my book.

" know how I feel about people making a fuss..." My father cut me off with a hand right near my face before I could continue.

"One, this truck was free. I got it from Billy Black, you know, used to play with his daughters and his son, Jacob Black? Two, I think I should be allowed to spoil you considering you're not going to be with me for long." It was uncanny how he made it sound like I was just going back to Phoenix with Renee and Phil and not dying once my few weeks were up with him.

More than anything I wanted to make him take the truck back, to reverse the trouble he'd put himself through, but I wasn't going to be mean or rude by shunting his gift right away. Letting out a reluctant sigh I nodded at his eager face.

"Fine. As long as it didn't cost you anything."

"Not a dime." He promised, showing me both his hands so I knew he didn't cross his fingers. At that point-knowing he hadn't wasted a whole lot of money on me-I allowed myself a rare, 100% diamond smile and wrapped him tight in my arms. Ever since I've been diagnosed I'm a lot more prone to expressing my emotions. I'm not sure why that is though, maybe my body is slowly shutting down and my emotions are going into overdrive.


Charlie had organised for new bedcovers to be picked up from one of the stores I knew nothing about it. It was actually pretty intricate, with black, velvet flowers placed randomly on silk purple. The pillows followed the same pattern and the sheet was just a bare black; and I was surprised to note that it was already spread out on the bed, and the cover and even the pillowcases were on the duvet ready and waiting for me to fall into them tonight, or in about two hours mean as it was almost nine o'clock at night.

My bedroom was the same as it had ever been. The window was opposite the door, which had a small curtain covering the entrance as well; it was partly see through though with red, green, purple and black swirls and loose patterns covering the silky material. My antique desk; with several large chunks that had been knocked out of it sat in the corner with a second hand computer balancing on the desk. My eyes noticed that all the shelves situated around my room were full of CD's and small ornaments and souvenirs from both my time in Phoenix and my time in Forks. Beside my desk was a dresser, bare on the top except for a cream throw and an assortment of books balancing on top and I carefully started to unpack my clothes into the drawers, even though I knew I'd only fill up one drawer with everything I'd brought. On the other side of the room was my bed in-between two huge boards full of family photos-from when I was little to how I am now-and a little bit further to the right was a mahogany wood wardrobe with pink cherry blossoms edging up the sides and onto the handles. To the left of my bed was a bedside table, which was a light oak with white outlines on the drawer underneath which would probably hold jewellery in dusty, creaky boxes that I'd long forgotten and would not where now even when I was dying. To finish the whole room of, a sheepskin rug was lain down on the plush, cream carpet; and it matched the walls nicely, which were painted a coffee type colour except for one which was painted a deep purple.

"Did you pick up the bedding?" I asked him, running my hands across the silk tenderly as Charlie dropped my other suitcase onto the bed. One of them-the one I'd unpacked-held my clothes for my stay and the other one held my scrapbook-which I was still finishing and mementoes I wanted Charlie to have. I had a plan for how that was going to work out though, each memento was going to come to him in a special way even after I'd died; I'd stolen the idea from Ps I love you, a film I'd watched last night with Renee as a sort of parting gesture.

"Yeah. I picked them up from..." He seemed to search his brain for the woman's name but it obviously slipped past his boundaries because he shrugged his shoulders and changed the subject, "You like purple right?"

"Yeah, purple's cool." I said shortly, sinking down onto the bed, hoping he'd get the hint that I'd like some alone time. Charlie hung around for about a minute-my heart actually went out to him, I knew he had to be uncomfortable but he hung in there-before he left the room, kissing me goodnight on the head before closing the door quietly behind him. I waited until I heard the television click on downstairs-probably some sort of sport-and briefly wondered whether I should set down the first memento for Charlie right now, mean as it was ironic that-from the sounds of it-he was watching a baseball match.

Deciding that yes, it might be a good idea; I gently unclipped the suitcase-which was brown with even browner buckles running across the whole front-Renee bought it for me from England when she went to watch a match at Wimbledon a while ago. Of course, she'd filled the suitcase with souvenirs as well, most of them being clothes and make-up which I wouldn't wear for the life of me.

The contents inside the suitcase would look like junk to anyone else, but to me? They looked like my life, down to the simple objects they were. Not taking time to examine the other things I'd decided to leave to my father; I riffled through the unusual contents until I'd found the baseball glove that Phil had given me when he run his first minor league baseball match. It was his pride and joy; and I was touched that he'd given it to me of all people, the sports repellent person. I appreciated the irony though and I thought Charlie deserved it.

Trying not to catch the squeaky floorboard, which was right near the entrance of my father's bedroom I crept over to his bed and then stopped dead still. Where would I put it for him where he would eventually find it? In the end I pulled his second pillow up and pushed the glove right under until it hit the headboard of the old, stone type king size bed. I let the scarlet covers fall down again and plumped the pillow back up so it suited the intense authority feeling Charlie's room gave me. I guess when you spent your life solving crimes; you got to be a little paranoid.

Thinking about my father's job, I realised that was really all he had left. Me coming back was only a temporary solution. I mean sure, he had company for a couple of weeks but what happened when I was no longer around to keep him company? To cook him meals and cheer along with him during his games? Every summer I'd come to Charlie's house and spent quality time with him. During that time, right then in history I'd hated it. The cold, wet climate of the Olympic Peninsula had made me feel depressed and saddened, like someone had locked me in a cage where the bars kept adjusting their size whenever I approached them so I couldn't break through. Why had I wasted all that time? Charlie was my father; I should have been happy to spend summer with him no matter where he lived. I was just about the worst daughter he could have had, I'd come here but I'd never really been here to spend time with him, to make quality memories. The only thing I'd concentrated on before when I came to visit Charlie was when I could go home again.

It struck me that I'd never classed this place as home, even though Charlie lived here happily. Well, while I was here it was going to truly become my home. That was the last thing I'd give Charlie. Happy that I'd made a decision that I could easily follow through with; I spent the next half an hour perched on the edge of Charlie's king size bed, staring blankly at a piece of red wall while deep in my daydreams. Charlie's bedroom consisted of one red wall and three creamy coloured ones, along with dark, mahogany floorboards, his king-size, stone like bed and a wardrobe. The wardrobe was the same as mine, except the cherry blossoms had been painted over so they blended into the woodwork. Something about Charlie's room was detached and organised, nothing like it should have been. He needed to find someone to help him brighten up his life...and his bedroom.

One other thing I might possibly be able to give Charlie. Another Renee who he could love and care for. Stirring interrupted my hastily forming plans; and I swiftly left Charlie's room, avoiding the squeaky floorboard so he wouldn't know I'd been in his room and I entered mine and shut the door. Ready to act like I'd spent all my time in here. The first footstep on the stairs. Thinking fast I zipped up the second suitcase and opened the wardrobe to put it in the back. Once that was done, Charlie was halfway up the stairs, which left me no time to actually get changed. Did I really want him sitting in here talking to me when all we both wanted was some time alone?

He'd think it was his duty to spend time with me twenty four seven. Renee and Phil had been the same, and I didn't have the heart to tell them that their endless presence was strangling me and choking off my air. Charlie normally wasn't that sort of guy which made the drastic change all the worse. Knowing what I wanted, I pulled back the covers, kicked of my trainers, yanked of my brown jacket and dived into the comfortable mattress fully clothed a second before I whipped the covers right up to my neck.

The walking ceased as Charlie reached the stairs; and I could just imagine his face as he contemplated checking on me. First he'd contemplate whether he wanted to disturb me when I was no doubt asleep; then he'd worry that maybe there was something wrong with me. I heard his anxious footsteps and he stopped a second before he reached my door. I knew he'd go back to the privacy thing right now. He'd wonder whether I'd want some time alone but he'd be split because he'd want to make sure I was safe and well. A second later he knocked on the door tentatively, saying my name through the wood, asking if he could come in.

Did I say come in and prove I was awake? Did I tell him to leave me alone for the night and prove I was awake? Or did I remain silent and hope I had decent acting skills. I went with option number three.

"Bella? Can I come in?" No answer.

"Are you okay?" I felt slightly bad in case he thought something had happened to me. He'll open the door and see you breathing, and sleeping in a minute, that annoying voice in my head chimed. Right on time Charlie edged the door open a crack, peered inside and saw that I was 'asleep,' which was why I hadn't answered his questions. Charlie went to sleep after that in his own room with the door closed so there was only a slight crack visible to let the light in.

I waited for ten minutes until I heard his steady, rhythmic snoring and then I crawled out of bed, grabbed my pyjamas and toiletries and got ready for bed in preparation for the big day tomorrow. Personally, Charlie didn't see the point of me enrolling in Forks High School but I'd insisted, so I'd have something to do all day. Also, under my orders Charlie hadn't told anyone about my condition so no one at school would treat me differently, or so I hoped.

I fell asleep a little past ten, dreaming of angels playing harps on clouds in the heavenly lit sky. Dr Carlisle Cullen's form kept popping up on one of the clouds offering a hand out to me though, and I wasn't sure I could decode the meaning of that dream.

Maybe he was meant to be my guardian angel on Earth.

A/N: Ok, give me some feedback on what you think. Just so you know, all the Cullens are vampires in this. I've already decided that if I continue with this I'm going to write two separate endings because one of my friends wants me to write the ending where Bella dies from leukaemia but I want her to live happily ever after with Edward (take a guess how that'll happen.) Anyone, please review with your opinions and stuff. If I get enough interest in this I'm going to carry it on which means my other fan fictions will be abandoned for a while. Sorry about that. I don't own Twilight (I forget to put it at the start; I hope that doesn't make a difference.) Thank you for reading. Inspired by sad songs, not as depressing as you might originally think.