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Alexis Swan

Summary:
Alexis Swan is Bella's cousin. What will happen ehen she finds out about Bella's "death" and comes to live with Charlie?


Notes:


1. Chapter 1

Rating 5/5   Word Count 752   Review this Chapter

Prologue

I woke with a start. What a strange dream. I mean, lately I’ve been having weird dreams, but none of them had been this vivid, this real. I shuddered. I didn’t like this place. It was unfamiliar, cold. Everyone else was snoring away. Three more days. Three more days alone; three more days in this horrible place. Everything had happened so quickly. My parents death, Bella’s death; it was all too much. I quickly wiped away the traitor tears that escaped down my cheeks. I was done crying. Instead, I concentrated on the slow, easy breathing of the patient next to me. In, out. In, out. My eyes fluttered once more as I drifted into a restless slumber…..

Three days later

Had Charlie always been this awkward? As I stared out the window of the old Police cruiser an unbearable silence hung between us. He barely glanced at me as I tried to start conversations with him. After a while of only getting half-hearted answers out of him, I gave up.

Ever since I’d gotten here he’s barely spoken. To tell the truth, I didn’t really like talking either; but if I didn’t talk, I thought too much. My eyes were red and puffy from crying, as were his. I don’t blame him; we did just come back from Bella’s funeral.

It was hard for me to accept she was gone. We had grew up together, the best of friends, until I moved down to Texas when I was ten. Somehow the funeral made it final. She was gone forever. They hadn’t found her body, but there were pictures of her, and flowers.

At last we pulled into the driveway of the familiar white house. My new home. Here I am Forks. Alexis Swan, Bella’s replacement. Ugh. To make things worse I had to sleep in Bella’s room, in her bed. Her stuff had been removed the day before. I stepped out of the cruiser onto the cold, wet gravel. To my dismay, it was thin ice. As if I wasn’t clumsy enough. God this place was dreary. I grabbed my two suitcases out of the trunk and followed Charlie silently towards the house.

Of course I slipped on the ice as Charlie struggled with the handle. I fell forwards, and cried out as my hand landed on a jagged rock, cutting the skin. Charlie turned around, alarmed. My cheeks flushed, embarrassed. I got up slowly, brushed myself off, grabbed my suitcases and stepped gingerly inside the house.

I heard Charlie stifle a giggle at my theatrics. I washed my bleeding hand in the sink. When it was clean, I inspected it. It was thin and not very deep. I’ll live. I walked past Charlie upstairs, dejected. Being here was really starting to depress me. After all, I was living in my recently dead cousin’s bedroom.

Charlie came up the stairs and opened the door. He was holding my two suitcases. I muttered a quick thank you and took them from him. Sensing my mood, Charlie quickly escaped downstairs. I didn’t have much stuff, so it wouldn’t take long to unpack. I folded all my clothes and put them neatly in the drawers. I couldn’t help but think of the accident that brought me here.

My parents had been driving me to school, when a semi truck had lost control and crashed into our vehicle, head-on. My parents had died on-scene, but I had been rushed extensive care. There, I stayed for a week, until I was stable enough to be moved to group therapy. I had to eat and sleep with a bunch of complete strangers. That’s when I started to have the strange dreams, dreams I can’t remember clearly. So bright and real, that when I wake up in that terrible place I can’t help but feel lost.

A loud engine pulling into our driveway interrupted me from my thoughts. I watched, uninterested, out my window as a tall, tan boy wearing only cut-off shorts, despite the weather, got out of the driver’s side. He came around the front of the truck, and helped and old man into a wheelchair. He glanced up at my window, and I quickly looked away, but not before I saw his expression. It was a look of amazement, of worship even. The look you would expect to see on a blind man seeing the sun for the very first time.