Summary: A wounded girl is found from the seashore, but there's no sign of a storm. The Cullen family, living in New York City, decides to let her live under their roof until her memory returns. Dealing with amnesia, an indication of Bella's confusing history already starts to reveal itself, visible on her body. Cryptic messages and an insane wanted are not only a perplexing reality, but hold an important connection to Bella's past as well. It's up to Bella to discover that barely anything is as it seems.

Mystery. All Human. Edward x Bella. Canon Pairings. Bella's Perspective and Third Person Subjective. Rated T for occasional coarse language and suggestive themes. Rating is subject to change.

Warning: This story contains unparalleled insanity, a twisted plot and a general sense of utter stupidity. It includes the dumbest plot you will ever read. It's filled with suspense, plot twists and soon it will become clear to you that this story is pure escapism. However, this is not a supernatural story. It has nothing to do with vampires.

A/N: Jordin, I hope you have internet in Heaven. I remember how eager you were to find out the end of this story, and if God is up there with you, please make sure he'd buy you a router for WiFi. This one's for you, Pickle. You were the bravest girl I knew. I miss you so much.


Remembering
Chapter 1: Found

I felt numb and weightless. A forward motion tossed my limbs above my body before letting them hover there. I sensed repetitiveness in my involuntary movements. I couldn't breathe. After unclenching my quivering yaw, I only managed to swallow water. A soft surface slid across my face before my feet were pushed against something stiff and cold.

I sensed coldness, but couldn't ignore the sharp blistering pain coming from my right arm. An unknown force pushed me further before another one dragged me back. I tried to lift my head, but it was impossible to compel my neck to carry out the simple procedure. I made an attempt to recall the place where I was, but my mind didn't cooperate with me. It was getting harder to breathe. With an effort I managed to raise my eyelids.

I was on a seashore, but it was difficult to see anything. The waves continued to shove me nearer to dry land. My feet touched a small cliff.

The place was dim and foggy. With every breath I took my lungs filled with water. I couldn't lift my head to get my mouth out of the water as every cell in my body screamed for oxygen. The need for air grew stronger, but I did not possess the strength to lift my head. I lost consciousness.

.-*-.-*-.

There were dashes of pain in my thorax. Something held my head in an awkward position and my lungs were repeatedly being filled with air. I jerked, leaned sideways, and as coughed, I felt strong arms around me. I couldn't focus; instead, I kept inhaling desperate uneven breaths that were followed by shuddering coughs. The strong taste of salt made my mouth dry. I couldn't find the strength to move, I couldn't control the shivers that had started to cover my body and I couldn't get rid of the pain in my right arm or head. Long wet hair tangled uncomfortably against my neck and waist. I heard voices but failed to understand them. They seemed to be talking far away from me, but observing the frames in the darkness proved that a man was standing right next to me.

"Can you hear me?"

I couldn't bring myself to open my mouth.

"In case you can, try not to move your head or arms," another voice said. As if I could. The pain in my arm increased immensely as the man attempted to move me. He untwisted the hair from my neck, covered me with a large jacket and lifted me.

"It's lucky that we found her," a voice muttered.

"Tell me about it," a huskier one answered.

I could faintly feel pressure against my right hand, but there seemed to be something seriously wrong with the way it was connected to my shoulder. It hurt. I grimaced and bit back tears as the pain intensified. As I said nothing, they didn't comment.

"We need to wrap her arm into something clean. It looks like a serious open bone fracture." I wanted to vomit because of the intense pain. "Could you put her down so I can put something around her arm?"

"Of course. But where? And where are we supposed to find a clean piece of cloth?" I was starting to see the men clearer. There were two of them. The man holding me was big, but muscular, and before offering a smile he appeared quite intimidating. "Don't worry, we'll get you out of here."

He turned to talk to the other one. "Did you find a place clean enough? There's sand all over the place. We can't put her on one of the small cliffs, can we?"

"Do it. It's cold, but not sandy. We can't risk the sand coming to contact with the wound."

The giant of a man put me onto a hard surface. "My jacket's under you so you wouldn't freeze your butt off." I wanted to thank him, but again, nothing came out. I eyed the taller man; he had lighter hair and a few wrinkles surrounded his blue eyes. Neither of them seemed hostile.

"Let's see how bad this is."

The blonde one pulled out a Stockman's penknife. Before I knew it, I attempted to push the man away by shoving my left hand into his face. I wriggled away from him. I was terrified. Startled, the man stood up and raised a hand to his freshly bleeding eyebrow. He locked eyes with the other one before making sure my eyes were on him as he placed the knife on the other side of the rock. He crouched.

"It's alright," he assured. "There's no reason to be scared. I'm a doctor. I want to help you. I just need to cut your sleeve open so I could see your fracture." He offered me a kind smile and fell silent. He made no attempt to touch me as he held my gaze. His face blurred and I took a few shallow, ragged breaths. What motive would he have to harm me? He wouldn't have saved my life just to cut me in half. I grasped the cliff beside me, but discovered no rocks to use for self-defense should it become necessary. I didn't like being unprepared and vulnerable. Having convinced myself of his good intentions, I nodded. He told me to look away.

Strong pain told me there was something seriously wrong with my arm. As I didn't want to faint, I focused my attention on a small silver ring on my left hand. It surrounded my little finger and had a small startling blue pebble in the middle. I observed the shape and size of my distraction, but after the tall man reached the most painful part of my shoulder, I gasped. My body slackened after I smelled blood, and it made me feel nauseous and frail. The man near my arm pulled off his sweatshirt and started to walk toward the sea.

"Emmett, watch her!"

"Where are you going?"

"I need to make my shirt as clean as I can so I can put it on her wound." By the time he returned, I felt so dizzy and faint that my eyelids closed. Panting and fighting nausea, I wanted to vomit.

Hasty footsteps came closer.

"What's wrong?"

"She's worse than I thought. We need to hurry." The older man approached us. "The salt is going to be bitter on the wound, but it is going to clean it enough for us to head back. It's going to hurt."

He gently wrapped the cloth around my arm, but when he reached the place where my bone was broken, I flinched. I would've been willing to cut my hand off to get rid of the pain. I paled. He apologized as he continued to wrap the cloth around my arm. My vision blurred.

"I'm sorry. We need to keep your arm still attached to you once we manage to get you out of here."

I blacked out.