Text Size Large SizeMedium SizeSmall Size    Color Scheme Black SchemeWhite SchemeGrey SchemePaper Scheme        

Eternal Horizon

Summary:
It has been 17 years since Isabella Swan's death, and young Adora has moved to Forks igniting gossip everywhere she turns. As Adora slowly unravels the clues that lead her down a path riddled with even more questions, she begins to realize that it seems to be more than coincidence, drawing her farther away from the life she knows, and into a world, she does not understand. The closer she gets to the truth, the more her own destiny becomes irrevocably entwined with the girl that haunts the small town. She wonders why everything that's happening revolves around the mysterious Edward Cullen, and why he seems to hold the key to the answers she's spent a lifetime searching for.


Notes:
I consider this story to be pretty much the unofficial 5th installment of the Twilight Series, it takes place after Breaking Dawn, it is 100% canon, which means that it does NOT deviate from the storyline of the books, although in the first few chapters it doesn't seem like it is anything close to being like the original Twilight series, but trust me, it is.


2. Spoons and Forks

Rating 0/5   Word Count 9886   Review this Chapter

A/N: I had Yiruma's - A River Flows In You in mind when I wrote the piano scene. That's what I always imagined Bella's Lullaby to really sound like.

I glared out the window, as houses passed my vision, in blurs of white vinyl siding and rough red bricks. Their colors were dull, faded; any light that would have illuminated their dreary exteriors was hidden by the dark ominous clouds billowing overhead. That only darkened my mood further, not that Chicago had offered that much more in terms of sunlight, not that I had really cared for the warm rays on my skin before. It only seemed to bother me now because I no longer had the option to enjoy the sun or not, I didn't have an excuse to stay inside all the time for no apparent reason anymore.

I turned away from the window to let my eyes flicker to my mother, as she hummed softly to herself beside me, letting my eyes linger on her long blond hair that reached past her shoulders in graceful waves, slightly curling at the ends. Her skin was smooth and tan, her bright green eyes rimmed with thick dark lashes, her nose sloped smoothly to a soft point above her full pinks lips. I noticed the distinct differences between us in this light. I looked more like my dad, with my waist length chestnut hair and the same pale translucent skin that was tinged with blue in places where the blood pulsed beneath it.

My eye color was hard to describe. My eyes tended to change with my mood. My mom had put brown on my birth certificate, which boggled my mind, seeing as how they were usually a steel grayish blue, with flecks of gold. I'd caught a bit of soft, pastel green in the mirror once, maybe, they might have been a more muddied shade of olive; the color of a barely dying leaf would take on. That wasn't very flattering, but there it was. I could have settled with hazel, but I thought brown was pushing it.

I tended to think I looked ordinary in comparison to her. My 15-year-old younger brother Jared shared more physical traits with her than I did with my dad. He had the same honey blond hair, cropped short, the same emerald eyes, and bronze skin. They both tended to tan well. If it honestly came down to it, I wasn't sure I really resembled either of my parents. My father's hair looked almost black, his eyes brilliant blue, and all three members of my immediate family were tall and slender. I was short, compared to my mom's 5ft 9, and my dad's 6ft 2, frames. Jared looked as if he'd already passed me up as well when he'd come to visit over the summer, towering over my 5ft 4 elevation.

I blinked and turned back to the window. She'd insisted upon my company for what had been intended to be a short exploration around town. I rolled my eyes when I thought of it. Nothing with my mother, could ever be short, it always ended up being gradually extended well past its original duration. We were on our way back home from where she'd wanted to show me the Forks Community Hospital, where she would be working as the new Head Medical Administrator.

She had given up her prominent position at the Northwestern Memorial Hospital in Chicago, as the Hospital Administrator, after her and my father decided to divorce, to take up her place, previous to our move to Forks, Washington, as the Dean of Medicine at the Spoon River College. Except for the past three years, all my memories of my life consisted of my time in Chicago. Jared had decided to stay with my dad there, and mom had drug me with her, to the tiny blip, on the map of Illinois, known as Spoons. It wasn't actually Spoons. Spoon River, Illinois, to be exact, like the college said, but most of the kids there, my age, referred to it as Spoons, for whatever reason. The irony was not lost on me. From Spoons to Forks. My mom's idea of a joke was living in places named after two types of silverware I supposed.

The joke wasn't really funny when I considered her reasons. Our move to Spoons had changed me in ways that I was oblivious to. Mom's intentions had been to separate herself from my father, she thought the distance would make the whole ordeal less painful somehow. I knew better. The divorce hadn't been messy, legally anyway. Emotionally however, it had almost destroyed my mother. My father had initiated the preliminary discussions on the subject of their separation. He'd tried to make it sound so innocent, like it was something that, in his mind, had obviously been inevitable. Again…I knew better. It was hard to not notice when one half of a relationship just stopped trying. That's exactly what had happened, like a switch had been flipped, he'd simply quit loving her. There hadn't been long drawn out clues, no subtle symptoms of his emotional apathy. He just stopped caring. I remembered the way their names looked beside each others on the divorce papers.

Referring to the decree made in this case on the 20th day of December 2022 whereby it was decreed that the marriage solemnized on the 3rd day of November 2006 at St. James Cathedral located at 65 East Huron Street, Chicago, IL 60611 between Anthony Michael Thomas (the petitioner) and Andrea Lindsay Thomas (the respondent) be dissolved unless sufficient cause be shown to the court six weeks from the making thereof, why said decree should not be made absolute, and no such cause having been shown, it is hereby certified that the said decree was on the 22nd day of March 2023, made final and absolute and that the said marriage was thereby dissolved.

Signed:

Anthony Michael Thomas

(Petitioner)

And

Andrea Lindsay Thomas

(Respondent)

It looked like he had scribbled his signature as fast as he could, while she seemed to have taken her time, slowly prolonging the inevitable.

I wasn't angry about the move to Spoons, I understood moms need for some sense of peace from my father's presence at the hospital, she could have taken a position at another facility in Chicago, but it hadn't seemed far enough away. She'd once asked me if it had been cowardly, for her to tuck her tail between her legs and run. I went cold and looked away angrily and replied through clenched teeth that, he was the coward, not her. I was angry at him. He knew it too. I wouldn't let him forget it either. That's why the following summer, after our move from Chicago, I'd copied her decision to take up her maiden name. It was mostly to hurt him, but partly it was to help my mom cope, letting her know she wasn't alone. From that day on, I was no longer Isadora Kate Thomas, I was Isadora Kate Swan.

My mood didn't seem to lighten the way my mother had hoped when we'd moved to Spoons. Instead, according to my mom, it seemed to decline…rapidly. I didn't notice a difference when I was around her, or any of my 'friends' for that matter. Because there had always been a strange pull for me, far away from where I was born, far away from wherever I was, something so tangible and yet…not quite real. It had always been there, in the back of my mind. Even in Chicago, I'd never really felt like it was where I belonged. It hadn't affected my ability to socialize though; I hadn't let my sense of discomfort keep me from making friends, and keeping up my grades in school. I only let my odd ponderings settle upon me when I was alone, when no one was there to see the burning questions in my eyes.

It was the same in Spoons. Worse, or so my mother said. She told me that she'd noticed, that I hadn't made the same effort to interact with the people I met, not the way I had before in Chicago. My teachers sent home notes, depicting my behavior as anti-social and depressed, worrying my mother into a frenzy. She'd confronted me once, making subtle insinuations that she thought I might be involved with some sort of illegal substance. I'd laughed, laughed until tears were rolling down my face, and I was folding over myself, holding my aching sides, as I let the hilarity of her assumptions wash over me. She ran through the possibilities of cocaine, marijuana and heroin, and the last one seemed to jerk me, making her suspicious, but I'd consoled her worry enough that she'd let it slide. She'd been quite irritated with how casually I had taken her concerns, but she never brought it up again.

No. My suddenly bizarre disposition, wasn't being induced by any manmade chemical or organic product, in fact, it only seemed to alter when I was alone, transforming into a magnified version of the familiar sense of displacement I'd always felt. I hadn't really paid those feelings any mind until two months before our move to Forks. That's when things started to stop making sense anymore, when strange events began happening, and unfamiliar emotions began to grip me. That's when the dreams began.

The first time, had been during one of those abnormally sweltering and sticky summer nights in June. June 13th to be exact. I'd woken around 3 a.m., doused in sweat, and burning, my eyes glassy as the image of a searing gaze blurred and finally faded. I tried to grasp the last wisps of memory that I could but I was only rewarded with another smoldering color that didn't make any sense, and then there had been fire, burning, searing, flickering untamed in that wild soul piercing stare.

Immediately my eyes had darted to my electric keyboard across the room. Music. Music was my first instinct. Music calmed me. Music was the only thing that helped me reason out my emotions anymore, if I was conflicted, and my thoughts became too muddled to understand, playing a piece that corresponded with my fragile emotions seemed to always ease the trembling in my body. So I had torn the covers away in a blinding movement, twisting my body until my heated skin touched the chilled wooden floor, and crossed quickly, and slid onto the slick black stool. I'd tried to pull those dreams back, urging the confusing images into coherent thoughts, as my fingers slid in feather light whispers across the cool, pale, lifeless keys, not caring if I woke my mother in the process. Tried was the key word. Instead of my emotions flowing into innovative rhythmic notes, a hauntingly familiar piece came out instead, softer, quieter, but it wasn't mine. Music couldn't save me this time, it only proved in troubling me more.

Since that night, sleep hadn't claimed me peacefully the way it normally had. Some nights were better than others, but I was always jarred violently awake, left shaken, too disturbed to fall back asleep. The same haunting gaze always lingering in my vision, before floating away in wisps of a vacant memory. After that night, everything began to change; my senses and emotions were altered so completely, it seemed nothing would ever be the same. The more troubling events were the simplistic actions of living and breathing, as if the eerily intense gaze had tainted my whole self, changing the way I existed, enveloping my soul.

Suddenly, when I would look out my window at the western sky, at the setting sun, as that last glimpse of light faded, before the day died, I felt as if I were supposed to be feeling some sad twinge of regret, like it was leaving me behind. Moreover, at strange moments, a sense of longing, so strong would grip me, rendering me to tears, breaking me inside, and I would slide to the floor, sobbing with some unknown loss, that I did not understand. At random moments, the smell of lilac and honey and warm sunlit air would perfume my senses, and unexpectedly make my chest ache. My awareness of the scents of satin and denim were heightened when I entered department stores to shop. Upon one of my trips to Chicago, to unwillingly visit my father at the hospital while he was working, I'd passed through the Emergency Room, and the scent of fresh blood had wafted through my nostrils and I'd tasted it on my tongue, like saline and copper, sending a burning through my throat. It hadn't bothered me; in fact, I had liked it, inhaling deeper to absorb the smell more fully. My negative aberration with seeing, smelling or tasting blood seemed to have evaporated. Why? Why didn't that botherme was a better question that I'd asked myself shortly afterwards. The answer? I didn't know.

I asked myself other questions when I was alone. Why could I barely sleep? Why didn't it exhaust me, as if my body suddenly didn't require the solace of Morpheus to function? Why were my dreams suddenly so achingly vivid? The flaming gaze seemed to focus more clearly every night, until within a month, I realized that the blaze reflecting in those eyes, wasn't really fire at all. The irises were the color of liquid fire, like amber, only more golden, metallic, crystallized…topaz. The flames were surrounding the piercing stare, reflecting only in the glistening onyx pupils.

The odd, irritating moments were those that made absolutely no sense. I began to feel so suddenly…anxious, when my mother was due to return home, and undoubtedly discuss how her summer biology lecture was going. I seemed to look forward to those moments, disinterested in the discussion itself, more intrigued by the feelings they seemed to trigger. She finally realized my odd behavior herself, when I suddenly began to crave eggs for breakfast, lunch and dinner, every day for almost three weeks straight. That invoked an even more amusing discussion, than our previous one, detailing my alleged illegal substance use. This time she'd thought I was pregnant. I didn't laugh this time. It was completely absurd, but the thought made me feel suddenly hollow inside. I assured her that it wasn't the case, and challenged her with the question as to when she had ever seen me even remotely interested in a boy. It served as a brick wall to her theories, and she'd laughed afterwards, apologizing for her doubt in my innocence. However, I didn't feel innocent; I had the uncanny knowledge that intimacy wasn't an unknown venture to my mind. My body perhaps, still remained untouched in such a way, but mind seemed matured to the notion, more so than it should have been.

That night I'd dreamed of cold pale arms, wrapping my slim waist, long slender fingers, gently but firmly gripping my hips, and stone lips trailing down the column of my throat. The topaz gaze flashed towards the end and I woke abruptly, this time feeling warm, and oddly unfulfilled.

The next day, I stumbled upon a fallen Cardinal's nest, empty, save a few crimson feathers, and the dream from the night before flashed within my gaze, making me blush furiously. It was the same every time I saw feathers, of any size or color, I blushed bright pink, igniting curious eyes to flash towards me whenever someone noticed, which usually ended up being my mother.

Even more irritating, Jake, our two-year-old pure bred Dalmatian, seemed to notice my heavy moods even when I didn't; coming to rest his spotted head quietly on my knee, rolling is big brown eyes, rimmed with black fur, up to my face in a silent question, nudging his wet black nose against my hand until I raised it to stroke his fur soothingly. I'd come up with the name, it had just seemed to fit somehow. I'd already had the name on my lips the moment I set eyes on him at the shelter. Mom had agreed to let me get a pet, once again hoping to find something to stir me from my melancholy disposition. Jake had helped. Having a silent being to speak to, eased my solitary reflections slightly. He seemed to understand, almost too much sometimes. When I would look at him across the room, his tail would take off, wagging wildly, and I would raise my brows silently as if to say 'Well, are you going to come over here and let me pet you or not?' He would then scramble up from his resting spot to rush to my side, rubbing his face against my legs, before climbing halfway onto my lap, allowing his long pale pink tongue to cover my face in warm, gooey, saliva. I would laugh and push him gently away, only to grimace when I realized a moment later what I was then covered in. He almost seemed amused by the faces I made. On one occasion I'd glared playfully at him, thinking Oh, I'm going to get you now, and he'd taken off, barking loudly, as if he'd heard me, daring me to chase him. Mom, seemed to accept that Jake was probably the only thing I'd truly bonded with since our move to Spoons, but that wasn't the outcome she'd hoped for.

By the end of July, she'd sat me down, her movements very slow and careful, clasping her palms together and pursing her lips as she stared blankly down at the dining room table. I waited patiently for her to speak, but after a few minutes of silence I realized that she was going to need a small push.

"Is everything okay Mom?" I said softly, ducking my face down, attempting to meet her eyes. She jumped a little and slid her eyes up to meet mine.

"Everything's fine." She said but she didn't sound like she meant it.

"Are you okay?" I murmured worriedly. She smiled gently.

"I'm fine." She looked down for a moment before eyeing my warily. "I've been meaning to talk to you about something." I waited and then she sucked in a long breath. "Are you happy here?" I blinked at her.

"Sure." I shrugged.

"Honestly?" She pressed.

"Spoons is fine." I sighed. She raised a brow, she knew the nickname for the town that the students used, but it always seemed to perplex her.

"I was randomly sending out my resume, and I've been offered another job." She whispered, staring straight at me.

"Where?"

"Washington."

"Washington State?" I asked, only showing my request for her to clarify, not letting my surprise bleed into my words. She nodded. I blinked back blankly.

"It's in a small town called Forks." The familiarity of the name made my stomach tighten, and my heart pound, before I registered the name fully. My lips twitched, so did hers. "I know." She smiled realizing my amusement was due to the irony of the name.

"Did you accept it?" I whispered. She watched my face carefully.

"Not yet, I wanted to see how you felt about it first." She said softly. "I'd hate to make you transfer schools in the middle of your high school years, and separate you from your friends." That made me raise a brow.

"I'm not that attached." I assured her.

"I've noticed." She shot back softly. Mom had known something was wrong when I'd started withdrawing from everyone after summer had set in, and obviously that had been when she'd decided that a change of scenery was needed, and had thus begun her job hunt. It was written all over her face. We were quiet for a long moment.

"When would we go?" I finally asked.

"Sometime mid-August." She whispered. My eyes flickered over her shoulder, through the entryway to the kitchen until they landed on the calendar hanging by a magnet from the refrigerator. Today was July 21st.

"Three weeks?" I murmured letting my eyes slide back slowly.

"Give or take a few days." She tilted her head from side to side. "They don't start school until late August, so you'd have plenty of time to settle in before beginning your junior year." I rocked my head back and forth slightly, thinking over her words before I let my gaze focus back on her.

"If that's what you want to do, then it's fine with me." I nodded. "I go wherever you do." She blinked at me, shocked for a moment before her lips slid into a wide grin.

"I'm glad you're okay with this." She couldn't keep how pleased she was by my answer out of her voice. Then she darted her eyes away. "If you were against the whole thing, I was going to offer to let you go back to Chicago to live with Jared and your fa-"

"No!" My voice was louder than I'd expected it to be and she looked startled. "No." I repeated softer. "I love Jared, I do." I assured her. "But I will not live with him." She knew who I meant. I took a deep breath to calm myself and she nodded.

"It's settled then?" She asked. I nodded. "Forks, here we come." She smiled. Jake made a small whimper from the living room and we both laughed.

"Jake too?" I looked at her pleadingly suddenly.

"Jake too." She smiled. I grinned.

"Did you hear that?" I called, and moments later, he came bounding into the dining room, his silky black ears flopping wildly, his tail wagging excitedly, as he barked out his answer.

I blinked back out the window, as we turned on to K Street, finally nearing the house. We'd arrived earlier in the morning, Mom had everything moved up and arranged before we got there but I still had boxes and boxes of stuff to go through. She'd told me to leave it be, too excited to take me exploring with her, around the new town that we now called home. I saw the house from the end of the street. It was small, compared to our 4000 square ft. residence in Spoons, painted the same pale white as the rest of the homes on the street, two stories, two-bedrooms, with only one bathroom at the top of the stairs by the landing on the second floor. That didn't bother me. I'd always thought of bathrooms as a necessity of hygiene rather than a luxury of vanity. My mom luckily thought the same. My room was on the second floor as well, the double windows facing out westward the way my old room had, so that I could view the sunset, overlooking the small front yard, with two tall moss covered trees reaching up from the diminutive scrap of grass. On the east side of the house the grounds stretched into the vast surrounding forest, randomly it seemed, compared the other homes. There was a thin walk from the brick driveway that curved around a patch of dirt, leading up to seven small steps, where they concaved into the front porch. It wasn't really a porch, more of a tiny platform that maybe two people could occupy comfortably, three would be pushing it.

I remembered when we'd first arrived, the sight of it catching me off guard. I recognized it, not because I'd seen it before, but rather, for no apparent reason. I knew it, like it was just the same old house I'd always lived in. That had startled me, but I hadn't mentioned it to my mom. No reason to let her know that her daughter was only getting stranger with each passing day.

As we neared I saw my imperial, metallic blue, Chevy Cobalt, parked right in the drive where my mom had left it. She'd driven it up the weekend before, after she'd closed the paperwork for the house, which had been on the market for a long time, left vacant by its previous owners for a few years, or so she'd told me. The purpose of the trip had been to meet the outgoing hospital admin at the hospital, besides ensuring that all the utilities in the house would be in working order by the time I arrived. She'd flown home a few days later, and we'd driven back in her black Honda Civic. She was holding the keys to my car ransom, stating that she didn't want me driving until I knew my way around town better, seeing as how I'd only had my license for less than a year.

Really, she was afraid I was going to disappear and head back to Illinois. That was funny. Where was I going to go? Chicago? Right. There was no appeal there except for Jared. My dad had bought me the car as a going away present. I knew better. He was still trying to get in my good graces. He should have known better. A new car wasn't going to change how I felt about him. I still wasn't going to forgive him. He was the one who wanted the divorce; he was the one who wasn't in love anymore. He was the one who ruined our happy family. Mom hadn't helped the entire situation with her hysterics, and constant over-worrying. She loved me though, she meant well.

I grinned to myself as my mind was brought back to the car. Despite who it was from, it was nice to have my own vehicle, especially that one in particular. Evidently, in the few short weeks that I'd spent actually driving since I'd obtained my license, I'd developed a odd appreciation for speed. I think I'd actually scared Jared a few times when I'd gone to pick him up from my Dad's with the velocity of my driving in Mom's car. He'd obviously mentioned it to my dad. It was strange, I'd hated when my dad had gone fast with me in the car when I was younger, but I seemed to relish the freedom I felt, rushing past other vehicles on the road. I loved rendering trees and passing scenery into colorless blurs, with the windows all the way down, letting the wind swirl through the car, fanning my hair out around my face. It felt strangely familiar and comforting, as if the rush was a common part of me. Maybe that's why my dad had gotten me the turbocharged coupe. It was a bit expensive for my tastes, but as long as he was paying, I wasn't going to complain. He deserved to pay for what he'd put us all through.

"So what did you think?" My mom's questions pulled me from my thoughts as she pulled down the drive, stopping to press the garage opener clipped to her visor. I noticed Jake peering curiously out one of the front windows and waved, eliciting a muffled bark, making me laugh before turning back to my mom.

"It was nice." I shrugged. An image of the building flashed in my head. It was oddly familiar, the way everything else in this quaint little town seemed to be. I shrugged it off; maybe it all just reminded me of Spoons. "It's a lot smaller than the hospitals in Chicago; you'll get to really interact closer with the patients." I murmured. She smiled, this thought pleased her greatly. She loved what she did, but she so often reminded me, how much she missed her earlier career as a clinical nurse, during her Internship at the University of Illinois, with the College of Medicine in Chicago.

"I think so too." She smiled pulling in slowly. I unbuckled my seatbelt, and opened the door. Closing it to edge my way between the car and the wall. The garage wasn't as big as the one at the old house had been, but I'd sacrifice the shelter for my car, satisfied to have it period. We climbed the small wooden staircase that lead up from the garage into the living room. Jake greeted us warmly, tail wagging cheerfully. I rubbed his head playfully and followed my mom into the kitchen, Jake on my heels.

"I liked the place we went afterwards, with the cliffs." I murmured reaching for an apple from the bowl of fruit centered on the kitchen table, a flash of images reminding me of one of our other points of exploration from that morning.

"First Beach?" She asked turning to face me. The name affected me the same way Forks had when she'd first said it to me. I pushed it aside.

"Is that what it's called?" I mused out loud.

"It's actually part of LaPush." She explained as more images flashed. "I did my research." She grinned proudly.

"Yeah?" I smiled softly, ignoring the familiarity of the name. "What else did you find out?"

"There's an Indian reservation located close by there, it belongs to the Quileute Tribe. Did you know they believe they were created from wolves by a supernatural transformer? Oh! And they also-" She was still speaking but her voice was suddenly drowned out as my vision swam, filling with images of violently rushing water, swirling around me.

"Adora!" Her panicked voice brought me back to the surface where I stood, my body rigid, my hands empty. She bent to pick something up from the floor quickly, and I realized when she straightened that it was the apple I had been holding. I must have dropped it when the visions had startled me. "Are you all right?" She asked coming to press one of her wrists to my forehead.

"I'm fine mom." I sighed, leaning away as I pushed her arm back gently. "I just zoned out for a second, don't freak out." She eyed me skeptically for a moment.

"You looked like you were in a trance." She murmured before pressing her lips tightly together.

"I'm fine." I sighed rolling my eyes before reaching out to pluck the apple from her grasp, taking a large bite, chewing slowly as juice dribbled down my chin. I reached up to wipe it away with the back of my hand before swallowing. "See?" I asked pointedly as I raised it to show her where there was a large missing chuck. She still didn't look convinced. I sighed. "If only an apple a day kept Dr. Mom away." I teased turning away slowly. She glared playfully at me and I laughed softly. "I'm going to go start unpacking." I called disappearing around the corner, the sound of Jake's claws on the stairs where right behind me as usual.

Once we were both safely inside I closed the door quickly and leaned against it before sliding slowly to the floor, Jake sat by the bed, surrounded by unopened boxes, his ears perked up, tilting his head slightly to the side as he watched me. I shook my head at him. I don't know what's wrong with me. I thought softly, fearfully. I was lost, more than ever now. I didn't understand the strange images that had been voraciously flashing through my mind. I didn't understand the familiarity surrounding the entire town. Had I been here before? Was I going crazy?

Perhaps.

I pushed off the floor, tearing through boxes, finding my computer among the wreckage. I set it up quickly, atop my oak desk that had been moved up against the wall, opposite the foot of my bed. We had electricity and running water and I didn't think it'd been too much to hope for internet. It wasn't, I realized noticing that Mom had already set up the wireless router from her room. My mom wasn't fond of my transition being anything other than overly smooth. She supposed it was better for me to be frying my brain cells by staring at a computer monitor rather than left alone to my thoughts. It wasn't my thoughts she needed to worry about. It was the unsettling images that corrupted those thoughts with instantaneous clarity, and yet very vague irritating meaning.

At that moment I was half-tempted to take a drive down to the cliffs by La Push, where my mother and I had explored before heading to the house, and jump, and end this whole insane venture. But there were so many things I still need to explain. Like why did I have so many familiar memories suddenly that weren't even mine? Why did the LaPush cliffs invoke some of those strange memories? Why did this room? I looked around at the bare walls. Mom had them repainted with a deep, rich, crimson, hers had been done up in a soft beige with white trim. Even the living room, was now a dark hunter green, and the kitchen cabinetry had been replaced with oak wood, and glass cabinet doors. The original pea green linoleum had been torn up, and marble tiles had been laid down in its place, the walls saturated with the same green as the living room. She'd shown me the before and after photos when we'd arrived. The renovation was her way of trying to make it fit more to our previous living arrangements decorum. If she only knew how little I needed help feeling at home here.

I focused on the screen that popped up on the monitor, the Forks website. I read over its welcome greeting before scanning through the archives of photos. Why did the streets and buildings all seem so…familiar? Something had always been missing, that feeling of exclusion in everyday life had permeated my whole existence. Why was it now, when I was hundreds of miles away from where I'd spent all my life, that the sense of belonging seemed to envelope me…in frighteningly, comforting ways? How could my mother have known that the tiny town of Forks would only heighten those strange occurrences that had begun in Spoons, not that she knew what was going on with me, not that I even knew what was going on with me. Forks seemed to only give me more unanswered questions.

Like now. Everything felt strange here. I hated the cold usually, and for some strange reason, I didn't mind it so much here. It was colder! How did that make sense? If someone hated cold and they felt something colder, wouldn't they hate the colder object more? My body baffled me. The egg craving had finally let up, and I was thankful. Unfortunately that only resulted in revulsion at the thought of the slimy yellow yolks. I was totally egged-out.

I was still having a hard time sleeping. Well…staying asleep was more like it. I was not spared from the piercing gaze in my dreams that first night as I'd hoped. Instead, the fire blazing around it seemed to have intensified drastically, and there had appeared to be some sort of emotion marring that impossibly wide topaz stare. Was it…fear? The flames exploded, as heat washed through me, I was burning suddenly. I started upward, a scream frozen in my throat, Jake jerked awake at the foot of the bed, blinking, strangely at me. Heat was still swirling across my skin, before it slowly bled away.

I clenched my eyes shut, not prepared for the wave of cool air that suddenly wrapped my body. It wasn't necessarily unpleasant; it just had the same reaction you would get if you were to lick your skin and blow on it. I glared pointedly at the window, noticing finally, that it had been cracked slightly half an inch open. It puzzled me suddenly, if it had been open this whole time, then why had I been roasting instead of freezing? Even for August, Forks wasn't exactly warm. I'd done my research before climbing beneath the covers earlier. I let that thought slide. Maybe mom had opened it.

It freed up my mind to recall the blazing topaz gaze and how it had shifted to amber, before bleeding slowly into a brilliant shade of crimson. I shuddered. Creepy, creepy eyes. My eyes were…weird, but nowhere near the Twilight Zone level that those had been at. Those eyes had scared me. The one's I'd seen the first night I'd dreamed of them, only seemed to have startled me then, they had been warm, almost inviting, albeit unexpected. And then there was that strange flicker of similar color in the back of my mind that I couldn't place, it wasn't the fire. That irked me a bit.

A few days later, something else had bothered me. My innate ability to experience déjà vu at the strangest moments seemed intensified somehow, now that I was in Forks. I had been pacing my room and a soft creak came from beneath my feet, I looked down and noticed the oddity of extra space on either side of that particular floorboard. Something was suddenly pulling me down, some blind force, like I knew that there was something beneath that board; like I'd touched it before. But before my fingers could reach the wood however my mom had called out for me. I debated ignoring her for a moment before I finally set aside my curiosity, at least that's what I'd assumed it had been, and went to see what she wanted.

I bounded down the stairs, finding her clicking away on her laptop. She looked up as she heard me, her reading glasses perched on the tip of her nose as she looked over them.

"Do you feel like running out for me?" She asked, sliding them slowly off her face.

"Sure." I shrugged, shoving my hands into my pockets.

"Do you remember how to get to the grocery store I pointed out to you the other day?" She asked reaching for her purse where it was beside her on the tan, sued, three-piece sectional.

"Forks Outfitters right?"

"Uh hu." She mumbled with her back still to me.

"Yeah." I nodded, sliding my hands out. I heard the jingle of keys, and suddenly there was something shiny flying through the air towards me. I caught it in both hands, realizing that it was the keys to my car.

"Grab a couple of gallons of milk for me please." She said softly before turning back to the screen.

"Anything else?" I called heading for the front door, reaching for my jacket from the brass hooks that had been hung beside it, it had my wallet stowed somewhere in one of the pockets. I still hadn't realized the usefulness of carrying a purse.

"Anything you think we need." She called as I dug through the pockets. "And whatever else you want." She added as I found my wallet, checking to see how much cash I still had in it.

"Okay." I nodded, slipping my arms through the sleeves, before pulling open the door and stepping outside.

"Don't speed!" She called as I was shutting the door. I opened it again, enough to fit my head through.

"I won't!" I called before pulling away and closing it again, turning to practically hop down the steps excitedly, before skipping across the lawn to the car. I was thrilled to finally be outside on my own, we'd only been in town for three days, but we hadn't gone anywhere since our first day of exploring. It was sort of making me stir crazy. The drive to the store didn't take as long as I had hoped it would have, it was only about three streets down, I probably could have walked there, but I was thankful for the chance to drive my car.

The parking lot was mostly vacant, save for a few scatter vehicles I noted as I made my way inside. The solitary cashier smiled warmly at me. He looked to be about my age, tall, stocky, with pale blond hair. I smiled back and grabbed a cart by the door before turning down one of the isles. I pulled a few bags of chips from the shelves, the hum of the equipment keeping the food fresh, the small squeak of the cart wheels against the tiles, and the soft music playing overhead was all I heard. I caught sight of a long wall, with fruit filling the center, pushing my way towards it as I looked around. It was so calm here, nothing seemed rushed the way it did in Chicago, but it still held some proof of modern civilization in a way that Spoons hadn't. I let that thought slide when a group of peaches caught my eyes. They were in season too I realized excitedly. I picked up the largest one I saw; it was plump, smooth, and soft to the touch. Raising it slowly beneath my nose, I inhaled the sweet fragrance perfuming off the skin and smiled. Peaches were my favorite, and these were perfect. I slid a few carefully into a plastic bag before placing them gently into the front of the cart, turning towards where I'd seen the sign for dairy products. I grabbed two gallons of 2% milk before stopping to think. There wasn't really anything else I wanted, and I had the milk. I took one last look around before heading back to the front of the store where the cashier seemed to be waiting patiently for my return.

"Hi." He grinned as I handed him the items one at time.

"Hello." I smiled back equally polite, noticing how his smile touched his blue eyes, before they slid to his nametag where is said 'Kevin' in small white block lettering.

"You're new in town." He commented softly, taking the second gallon of milk I offered him.

"Yeah." I nodded. "Just this week actually." I murmured reaching over the handle of the cart for one of the bags of chips.

"Your mom's the new hospital admin." I straightened quickly, bag in hand to blink stupidly at him. He chuckled softly. "Small town." He explained. "Word travels fast." I blushed furiously. "Kevin." He smiled offering me his hand.

"Kate." I replied shaking it. His brows furrowed.

"I was told your name started with an A." He replied quizzically. I rolled my eyes. Mom.

"Kate is my middle name. My first name is Isadora." I explained. "But I can see my mom's already introducing me as Adora." I said through clenched teeth as he chuckled again, taking the bag of chips that I'd forgotten that I'd been holding. I blushed again, turning to grab the last remaining item in the cart to hide it.

"So what do you prefer?" I turned back, handing off the peaches reluctantly.

"Adora's fine." I sighed when he dropped them absentmindedly beside the other items. They were going to bruise I realized sadly. He punched a few buttons and $16.50 flashed across the register. I pulled out my wallet, rifling through the bills when an unexpected gasp of surprise pulled my attention upward. A middle aged man, whom I recognized through my mother's description as Mr. Newton, the man who owned the store, had stopped where he stood and was staring at me, completely pale, petrified, and frozen in wordless horror. I smiled at him, I don't know why I did, but it only seemed to frighten him more, so I fumbled with my wallet, pulling two bills out and and placing them on the counter quickly. "I'll see you around Kevin." I murmured hastily, ignoring whatever change was leftover, before pushing the cart forward, to scoop the bags up, rushing quickly from the store as Mr. Newton continued to gape after me, utterly terrorized. So much for a friendly introduction I mused, and I'd so been hoping to establish myself into the quiet little town, as inconspicuously as possible.

Mom ignored me when I brought it up the incident once I'd gotten home, once again asking for the keys to my car. She was trying to stick to her denial that her daughter wasn't going batty. I wasn't sure she was wrong. If this was a taste of what I could expect every time I went out in public, then I was immensely dreading school, which, reminded me, started in a week and a half; an unusually late start for around here, or so mom had said. I didn't really mind. It's not like I was in any rush.

Unfortunately, I was reminded of my impending public humiliation, when a visitor stopped by the following afternoon. Angela Cheney, she was a sweet woman, completely polite. I tried to remember her face still shining that pleasant, though slightly odd, smile she'd bestowed on me when she'd left. The alternative wasn't pleasant. I'm sure if she and Mr. Newton had been standing side by side, they could have passed for twins at the exact moment that they both first saw me, because her reaction had been roughly identical to the one I'd received in the store. As it turned out, she knew Mr. Newton and he'd asked her to return the change I'd left the day before. $23.50. A whole extra twenty that I'd laid down including the actual change.

After she'd regained her composure enough to explain the sealed envelope she'd handed me, her face fell into a warm smile, her eyes bright as the examined my face.

"He wanted me to apologize for startling you." She said softly.

"Would you like to come in?" I offered opening the door wider and her face bloomed suddenly. "My mom's upstairs, would like for me to get her?" I asked as she stepped inside. I took her coat and hung it up, closing the door softly.

"Yes, please." She smiled.

The purpose for the visit was to welcome us, informally to Forks, and introduce herself in the process, though, some of the curious glances she threw my way seemed a little strange, like there was something behind them other than inquisitive appraisal. My mom monopolized the conversation most of the time, allowing Mrs. Cheney to get a few questions in now and then about our move to Forks and what had brought us here. Particularly why she'd accepted such a small position at the Forks Community Hospital when she could have obviously taken a more prominent position somewhere else. My mom seemed to stiffen at that, and I hazily remembered her answering with a brief excuse although I knew, and I suspected Mrs. Cheney realized, it was a lie. Keeping up appearances I supposed. How was mom supposed to meet people if everyone thought she'd brought a deranged daughter with her? I remember grinning slightly at that thought, and I was almost sure I caught a flicker of amusement on Mrs. Cheney's face as well. There were a few more…unsettling moments, that caught my attention, but I didn't really feel like mulling over them. She'd mentioned school. I flinched. That pretty much summed it up.

The next day I finally set up my keyboard beside the desk that held my computer, attempting to once again arrange my thoughts through the keys. There were a few random melodies that I played around with, but one in particular seemed to be keeping me entertained, however hauntingly familiar it seemed. I hummed along with the notes and smiled. Maybe it was for the better, what else was I going to do with all of my scattered thoughts? Collect them in a jar? I frowned. No, I didn't think so.

No weird dreams that night, and thank God! I still hadn't slept for more than 4 hours on any given night. I wasn't sure what had woken me this time. The window was closed all the way. At least I thought it was. I checked it anyway, and sure enough, the seal was firmly pressed shut, just the way I'd left it. A chill ran down my spine as I touched the tips of my fingers to the glass. If that had been the most interesting part of my day, I would have been shocked. Of course, when was a cold chill the only unexpected thing in my life?

Mom and I headed over to the high school, to make sure everything for my registration was in order. I was surprised. It didn't look like a giant rectangle of glass windows and bricks like my last school had, it was actually kind of charming. It was also kind of familiar. That irritated me. Was nothing ever going to have that brand new feeling, the way a new car does, again? Was anything going to surprise me? Or was the fact that everything was familiar supposed to be surprising?

We were taken on a short tour of the grounds. One of the rooms caught my attention; it was obviously for science I discerned when I peered in through the small doorway window. A frown formed suddenly. There was that odd pull again. I shook it off. It was an ordinary classroom. What significance could it hold? Then there it was, the image of those strange unsettling eyes again, topaz. That thought suddenly struck me. When had I ever thought of eyes as topaz? Why didn't I just think orange or even gold? There was that flash of almost the same color, darker in some places. The image was so blurred. I gritted my teeth. What is up with me? I wondered. I was losing it.

I'd had to catch up to my mother and the woman we'd been following. I'd forgotten her name moments after she'd introduced herself, but I was sure my mother would remind me later when I asked her. When we were walking out to the car, I caught a glimpse of something in the trees. I blinked and it was gone, but I could have sworn that it had been a person. I let it go. Dwelling on things that didn't make sense didn't sound very healthy.

By the time a full week had passed since I'd set foot into Forks, I had just accepted the fact that I may not ever understand the eerie new phenomenon's that were occurring, and so I began to keep a diary on my computer. It wasn't anything overly insightful, just my rants and raves over everything. It did help me sort through my memories better it seemed, like a reference guide, reminding me of important aspects which I had almost forgotten. I'd tried to keep up with a diary in Spoons, but my mind had been miles away there. Here, it seemed oddly focused now, like the pull, far away, that had once distracted me from the world altering around me, had sharpened itself into a fine point. Control, I had better control now. Or perhaps I no longer needed to look any farther than this tiny town for the answers I'd always searched for. Maybe I was finally where I was supposed to be.

I grinned when I read in my own words, how my first day in Forks had been. I'd typed in a few interesting instances from that day. I had touched briefly on the strange flashes of images, listing the names and places that invoked similar reactions. I tried to best describe the moment when the apple had rolled from my suddenly limp fingers, still unsure how the ocean connected with the Quileute Tribe mom had mentioned. Perhaps it was because the beach was so close to the reservation, then again, I couldn't really be sure. I grinned again, noticing how several of my sarcastic remarks ended with punctuation that made it seem as if I were overly thrilled. That was my explanation mark happy pinky talking there, not my actual excitement.

I scrolled down to reread my other entries. I'd also written about what had happened at the store the other day and then again with Mrs. Cheney. I was still bothered by the looks of shocked horror that had been on their faces. I'd checked the mirror shortly after she'd left, wondering if I'd somehow managed to not notice some disfigurement of my own face. But no, I looked the same as always. What had made them look at me that way? It made me feel sick to my stomach. Was there something about me that was somehow offensive to everyone here? No, not everyone. I reminded myself, the cashier at the store hadn't had an adverse reaction when he'd first seen me. He'd acted perfectly normal, the way I'd expected everyone to react. The way I'd hoped at least. It still unnerved me.

I sighed and turned away from the words, my eyes scanning around my room. It didn't look like the same room, as it had on the first day I'd seen it. I'd finally arranged it in a way that satisfied me. Not too different. I'd decided that I'd wanted the bed to stay where it was; it seemed to fit there somehow. It wasn't changed in a substantial way when I'd moved everything around.

Although now, the bed was covered with a thick down comforter with a red and white satin coverlet, that had been mom's doing, again. I realized that the rearrangement had been pointless, with my mother around to witness what she had assumed to be, the urge to deck out the small confines. She couldn't have been more far off, I was simply organizing space. She was the one however, who acted like she was on an episode of HGTV's design challenge. I was almost sure she was enjoying herself with the whole interior decorating thing, it made me smile to see her so happy, but still…

My mind was brought back to my room. If I didn't know any better, I would have sworn that the Queen of Hearts from Wonderland lived there instead of me. My twin size bed frame had been replaced; smooth black wood now curved smoothly around the full sized box spring and mattress, which took up more space than the room was intended for. I didn't mind, it wasn't like I needed a yard to run around in like Jake did. The headboard was tall and thick, with four, large, white, padded squares filling most of the space, the design made it look like a window from the other side of the room I realized, before my eyes flickered back over the bed dressings. Soft white cotton and plush red satin pillows overflowed at the base of the headboard, looking like a window box of red and white roses in front of the design. The white crushed velvet pattern on the coverlet curled elegantly across the red satin, the edges dangling over the sides of the mattress only what seemed like six inches from the floor. The red on the bed matched the walls, and the book shelves matched the black wood of the bed frame.

I inhaled the scent of the fresh furniture and smiled, before rolling my chair over to the side of the bed, climbing slowly into the enveloping folds and rubbing my nose gently against the matching red satin sheets. Despite my first reaction to the room, it had grown on me; it was nice to have my own space of luxury. My tastes were simpler than my moms. Neither Jared nor I had been spoiled as children, we'd always appreciated everything that we were blessed enough to receive. Our parents were attentive, that was all that had mattered to us. Although their income always exceeded our way of living in Chicago, Mom and Dad had felt that it was better to have the knowledge that our family was financially secure rather than flash their income in ways that most people of the Chicago upper class had. They had taught their children the same appreciation for the simpler things in life, for that I was truly grateful.

I felt suddenly calm, a strange sense of peace, and then there was a melody in my head, floating gently, like butterfly wings in my psyche. I felt my eyes brighten; I felt my whole being soften in pleasure. I could hear music inside me, lulling me gently. Instinctively I reached out to touch my fingertips to invisible keys, and it started slowly at first…peaceful and calm, the way I had felt when that strange sense of comfort and belonging had settled upon me. I breathed a soft sigh as the sound carried me away, gently sweeping upward, like I was floating outside my own body. It was beautiful. The melody continued its rising spiral, feeling as if all my soul was filled with its delicious sounds. I was happy.

The image of that startling topaz gaze warmed me suddenly, it was smiling, coursing through me, enraptured by my mood, staring, silently awed as if it too realized the tenderness, rich and seductive, alive in me, breathing into me. I played for those eyes. My touch was soft, flawless, caressing the air and that heated gaze became curious, twinkling with amusement, watching as my soul danced to the symphony, they were delighted by my pleasure. Then there was a silent question, a flash of perplexity as if they were trying to understand what I was feeling. I smiled, but it wasn't my usual smile, it was the way you would smile secretively at a lover, beckoning them to follow, and the melody slowed, in silent yearning, to answer the questions drowning in those amber depths. I took them on my journey with me, from the beginning, telling them through my musical soul, what had pleased me. I showed them what had brought my heart immeasurable joy. They had.

They widened slightly, as if feeling awed, as if they were experiencing my flight into the gentle arms of understanding. I was smiling softly, as the melody whispered secrets unknown even to me, as finally that bright flash of color flared surrounding the gaze, only for a moment, but a moment was all it took to take my breath away. Brightening the eyes into a flash of some potent emotion, I hummed a harmony that I somehow knew by heart and added it effortlessly, and the notes suddenly took flight. They were joyous, ringing, crying out in exuberant ecstasy, and those eyes mirrored them. They were so impossibly warm, tender, yearning, reaching out to caress me in some divine fashion of adoration. They were singing to me now, causing a strange aching in every fiber of my being, taking me higher with every note. I could have floated away at the very moment and I would never have noticed. I would have followed that topaz gaze anywhere. I wanted to, as long as we were together.

In that instant, I felt the fragile bubble of glass surrounding us shatter, as the knowledge washed over us both. We couldn't be together. The music softened, lowering, bowing its head sadly, and the eyes were suddenly breaking my heart, filling with that same terrible longing from moments before, only now they were tainted by sorrow. We were drifting away from one another, slowly, painfully, whispering inconsolable, desolate good-byes as the melody hushed, crying now, sobbing its last notes to its broken, lifeless, devastating end.

I woke up suddenly, and screamed.