I do not own the copyright to characters, places or plots in this story. Stephanie Meyer is the Copyright holder. I am just playing with her fantastic characters.

Prologue

The car sped down the dark, wet streets and she put her foot down willing it to go faster. Maybe, just maybe she thought to herself, if she took a corner fast enough in this weather, she'd wrap herself around a tree and it'd all be over quicker. She'd been driving for days, trying to get away from it all. From the continental United States, up through Canada, and back into US territory in Alaska. She didn't know where she was going and she didn't care. She turned up the music as the baby started crying in attempt to drown her out. She felt like shit and looked worse. It had been ten days since he'd overdosed, leaving her alone and pregnant, eight days since her last hit and six days since she gave birth to the child now in a shoebox on the floor of the front seat. Isabella. She turned down what she thought was a lane leading to a track thinking she'd just park the car and take off into the woods leaving the kid there. Surely someone would find it, it'd be ok. As she got to the end of the lane, the trees cleared and she pulled up in front of a majestic house. Fuck. She just wanted to get it over with. As she turned to go back the way she'd come, she looked down at the infant in the shoebox. Isabella. Must be fate kid, she thought to herself as she scrambled through the car looking for a pen and paper. The house was dark and there didn't seem to be anyone home. She took the shoebox and placed it on the doorstep. "They'll look after you better than I could've kid." She said taking one last look at the daughter she'd given birth to a few days before in the lounge of her ratty flat, still high on the concoction she'd had after his body had been taken away. Without a second glance, she sped off into the night.