Title: Remember Me Tomorrow
: All characters belong to the thoughts and imaginative creativity of Stephenie Meyer. They are not and have never been mine.
: Death - it breaks friendships and shatters lives. At 14, Bella's life is destroyed. At 23, she is determined never to trust again. But Death is a strange & winding thing. Can a girl, confronted with her past, find her heart before Death encroaches again? (All-human/Cannon Pairings/Alternate Universe/Slight-OOC)
: None
: Skychaser

A/N: Hello to all the loveliness out there. I just need to say two quick things. First off, if you've been reading this story, sorry for the quick change, but I decided that the tale needed a bit of a starter, and so was birthed what lies below. If you haven't previously been reading, then ignore everything stated above.

Also, I just wanted to say a huge thank you to my awesome lovely ladies, the amazing clarabella75, my ever wonderful beta (who most certainly pulls out her whip to keep me in line) and my bestest in the entire world and awesome pre-reader (she knows it's a chore :P) nitty46. Thank you ladies both, for providing me with the encouragement to write for myself, if not for anyone else. Love you with all of my heart.


The heart that truly loves never forgets.

I had lost … everything. And it was my fault.

Swirls of pungent smoke rose into the silent, supple night air; thin wisps stretching and reaching for the stars, calling into the high places, pushing forward, ineffaceable, hungry for a journey which would crush them, ruthless.

Life. Life was like that – a game no one is meant to win.

It had read my hand, played me for a fool. It was the night of death, with no hope for stars.

I was losing him again, and she was slipping away. And here I was ... I was losing it, and it was my fault. I could do nothing but pity myself, nothing but face the reality of what was slipping through my fingers as easily as sand, scattered by the winds of Fate.

Fate ... chance had nothing to do with it. Life, God, Fate … they were all mocking me, mocking my every breath.

It should be you … they took your place … because you were too frightened to face what they knew.

The crisp crackle of orange ember blazed and then burnt out. I tossed the wasted cigarette and stepped inside.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The solitary evenness of the machinery aligned with my heartbeat. I could feel it shake and rattle my ribcage. Artificially alive. I was the same.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The rhythm changed, slowed … faded.

Life blurs. Only the noise stretches on.

Life vanishes.