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Abstract Reality

Summary:
17-year-old Ana Forrester has lost everything. Her parents, her place in this world, her story. After a near-fatal car crash, the Cullens take her in, where she meets Seth Clearwater. Soon, she realizes that her life may have a chance to turn itself around. But when the Volturi threaten Ana’s safety, she must make a choice between her new family, and the wrath of the Volturi. THIS STORY IS COMPLETE!!!!!!! THANKS TO EVERYONE WHO READ & REVIEWED!!!! HOPE TO SEE YOU AT ROUND 2!!!!*~Nymphadora_Cullen~*


Notes:
In case anyone's wondering, in this story, Ana is 17, which means everything is happening now. Bella's been a vampire for two years, and Nessie is, I guess, about the physical representation of a ten or twelve-year-old. Also, I'm planning to do a playlist for this fic. Check the chapter notes to see what music works for each chapter If anyone has any questions, please leave a review.


1. Preface/Chapter 1: Forks

Rating 4.5/5   Word Count 993   Review this Chapter

Abstract Reality

Nymphadora_Cullen

Preface/Chapter 1: Forks

I didn’t know how well I’d had it until that moment.

It was weird, almost surreal, that my life would end like this, just as soon as I’d begun to live it. One month was all I’d had. I had never imagined it to end this way.

I looked back once more at the friends, no family that I’d joined in that short amount of time, their faces varying states of fear, worry, and defiance.

The last pair I saw had all these emotions, and more: Pain, of course. There was sadness there, too. But, also acceptance of my fate; I knew when I saw him that he would forgive me for my choice. He loved me, loved me more than my parents had, then my old friends had. He loved me with an unselfish, undying love.

Slowly, I turned away, and walked toward my fate.

Chapter 1: Forks

Before I moved to Forks, if my life could’ve been described as one word, it would’ve been “separate.”

Since the age of seven, when my parents had sat me down for a chat that began “Momma and Daddy love you very much, Anabel, but they don’t love each other the way they used to,” my life was easily described that way. I would later find that a term for this separation, or “loss-of-love,” was “divorce.”

My father moved to Seattle; Mom and I stayed in St. Paul, Minnesota.

They’d met out of high school. He was a mechanic who had dropped out of college before completing his first semester, and found his love in the innards of cars. My earliest memories of him were his grease-stained denim suit lying beneath a car.

Mom had been a rebel, running away from home at the age of 18 so she could go to a state college in Colorado, instead of following her parent’s footsteps to Princeton. They were married the first summer she graduated from the University of Denver, in January of 1991. Nine months later, I was a blanket-wrapped burrito in my mother’s arms. Apparently, I inherited my “dark side” from her, as they later found out, especially when I began preferring my hair short after the “separation,” and even did it myself on occasion.

I was nine years old when Dad asked me to join him in Seattle for the summer. I fell in love with the slick, rainy streets, pretending to be my favorite fictional detectives like Nancy Drew, the Hardy Boys, and Sherlock Holmes. The clouds and rain, along with the colors and sounds, brought me back every summer.

By the time I was fourteen, Dad had sold his garage, and purchased a house in Port Angeles. He said that he was tired of the hustle of Seattle. At the same time, Mom met Gordon, and they were married in Las Vegas. Gordon was a nice guy, and Mom loved him, but I was eventually spending more time with Dad.

However, one night I’d come home to a dark house. The next morning, I’d learned that the police had discovered their bodies charred in an ally, victims of the Seattle Slayings.

I was 15.

Two years later, Dad quit his job at the Port Angeles garage, and began job-hunting again; to him, Forks was the perfect place for him to retire when he’d saved enough money. To me, it was a town the size of a fingernail on a map.

“You’re gonna love it, Ana,” he said as we drove back to Poet Angeles. “Once I sell the old house, we’ll enroll you at the high school. I even met a possible new neighbor!” He grinned happily.

“The police chief?” I glowered, “At least you know who to go to when I’m out past curfew.”

“Relax, honey,” Dad was positively glowing. “He’s got a daughter about your age.”

“She’s married, Dad,” I grumbled. “Didn’t you see the wedding picture? Plus, she’s 19 or 20, older than me by three years.”

“You can still be friends,” Dad replied, fiddling with the radio; the sounds of an orchestra filled the car.

“Yeah, okay,” I muttered, turning the volume on the Evanscence song already blaring in my ears.

Fear is only in our minds,
Taking over all the time.
Fear is only in our minds but it's taking over all the time.

I was so engrossed in the lyric of the song, that I almost didn’t notice it, like he did.

“Dad, LOOK OUT!!”

He slammed on the brakes, and swerved, avoiding the doe with ease.

I wish I could say the same thing about the tree.

With a sound of crunching metal, the car rammed the tree like a pop can being smashed by someone’s foot. The airbags deployed, mine hitting me harmlessly on the chest. At the same time, I heard a strange cracking noise, followed by a faint dripping noise.

I sat up, noticing that the car was totaled. I didn’t think Dad’s miracle mechanic skills could save this thing.

“Hey, Dad,” I said, stowing my iPod. “I think we’re gonna need a new car.”

No answer.

“Dad?”

I turned to see him slumped in his seat, his head lolling back, his glazed, sightless eyes staring.

I don’t know if it was the sight of my father’s broken neck, or the fact that my last remaining parent was dead, but I suddenly felt woozy, and my vision was fading. Of course, it may have been the smell of gas and oil now combining, and the fact that the engine was sparking.

I almost didn’t hear the voices come to the car. However, I did feel the ice-cold hands and arms the picked me up out of the rubble, and the warmth of hot air on my face a few seconds later.

My last coherent thought before I slid into the darkness was realizing my iPod and cell phone were still in my pocket.