A/N: So this is a repost… I had this particular story posted last year (I think), and I've been thinking about it lately for no apparent reason… then I found it while going through my hard drive and I think it may be time to bring it back…

Its not going to be exactly the same… because hopefully my writing skills are better than they were…

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this story, nor do I own anything related to Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.

(BPOV)

Looking into the dirty and shattered pieces of the mirror, I could barely recognize the girl looking back. How did so much change in 3 years? I looked dead, even to me. My eyes, the same ones the Ed-he had described as soulful and deep, like molten chocolate, now looked back at me as lifeless pits, a pair of windows into my now blackened soul, the bags under them being proof of the nightmares that plagued my dreams. My cheeks had sunken in from the years of malnutrition and no longer held the blush that had been my trademark since birth. Instead it was now replaced with a deathly paleness that could rival any vampire. I didn't dare look any lower then my neck, knowing my face would seem perfect in comparison.

Shaking my head to dispel the thoughts, I made my way back into the main room in my grungy, one room apartment to find something to dull the now constant ache, as well as to help knock me out. I knew for a fact that I wouldn't be able to fall asleep naturally. I wasn't able to in my own home, with my father right next door, I won't be able to now, in a tiny one room apartment that looks like a crack house from the outside, located in an area not even birds would take a shit at.

Walking the three steps it takes to get to the 'kitchen' I pulled out the bottle of sleeping pills, and taking three with a healthy swig of 90 proof vodka. Sitting on my 'bed', which was just a ratty old couch I found on the side of the road, I waited for the medication to kick in. Knocking me out for at most 4 hours until I wake up screaming again. Too bad they didn't stop the nightmares, just prevented me from waking up, and it has mixed my conscious with my subconscious on multiple occasions. I guess that's why I liked it. It made me hyperaware, even in my dreams, it made me feel safer. None of it helps my mental situation, but it prevents my body from randomly shutting down, and it's an escape.

Without my permission the tears started falling. I touched my face in surprise; I hadn't shed tears in two and a half years, why start again now? I could feel myself starting to get drowsy.

No! No! I don't want to fall asleep crying, I don't want to see the red puffy eyes tomorrow morning, it makes it harder the put the mask in place. It's harder to pretend everything's fine when everything's obviously not.

Slowly the familiar black dots took over my vision, until I was trapped underneath the medicated sleep. Bang! What the fuck was that? Using all the will power I possessed, I pried my eyes open just barely a slit and saw the most stunning red eyes, before the darkness took over once again, and I was out like a light.

I was back in Forks. No, I'm in La Push, not Forks, looking around at the familiar landscape. I noticed a girl sitting on First Beach just staring out into the waves, she sat there hour after hour, barley moving. Then suddenly she stood up as if she just realizing how long she has been out here. I continued watching as she drove home in an ancient red truck, and followed as she walked into a house.

"Dad?" She shouted out.

"Dad? Come on! I know you're home, stop trying to scare me." She sounded terrified, why would she need to depend on her father so much?

Then I heard the dripping sound, as did the girl, we both followed it until we saw the crimson liquid slowly dripping down the hardwood stairs. Drip, drip, drip. I knew it was blood from the rusty smell, as did the girl, we followed it up the stairs, only to see the same liquid coating the walls in gruesome splatters. She saw the blood was pooling out of the closed bathroom door, opening it I wished she hadn't. There was a man, lying in the bathtub with a straight, precise incision from the hollow of his neck down to his abdomen, his intestines we're hanging outside his body. It seemed like he was alive when he was gutted, as I saw the blood splatter around him, then I realized why there was so much blood; the man's head is almost decapitated with a deep but ragged incision. The girl didn't bother walking into the room, knowing there isn't a way in the world her father is still alive. Looking into the mirror, the girl reflected was crying, the tears pouring from her eyes and streaking down her cheeks, but she couldn't acknowledge them, no, she wouldn't.

As I saw the writing on the wall, written in the man's blood 'Your heart for mine.' it hit me like bricks, the girl is me. Her father is my father. This isn't a dream, it's a memory. I vaguely saw the dream me start screaming, I ran. I ran as far and as fast as I could. I need to get away, away from the image of my father that I had tried so desperately to forget. The forest, I knew it was dangerous, even in my subconscious. This is where my nightmares usually take place, but I don't care. Not right now. I ran until I couldn't run anymore, that's when I fell, curling into a ball on the forest floor, much like I had three years ago. The surrounding forest slowly blurred then disappeared; I knew I was waking up.

Waking up? Then were the red eyes a hallucination? No, they were real, are real, that is one of the few things I'm sure of. Then why am I not dead?

Peeling my eyes open, feeling as if they are on fire like they did every morning, then blinking to try to get tears to lubricate my gritty eyes. Only afterwards did I notice I was lying in a very comfortable, almost cloud-like bed. As I looked up I saw the same pair of blood red eyes, except they are brighter this time. He had fed recently, but apparently not from me, as the familiar soreness isn't there.

"So are you going to keep me as a pet? A walking blood bank? Or are you waiting until I fatten up so I'm more tasty?" I stared him in the eye, and felt my cracked lips turn up into a smirk. I knew my voice sounded horse and gritty, and it hurt to talk, even at that low volume. Not that I was surprised, it has been at least half a year since I talked.

I watched as his perfectly sculpted eyebrows rose, never loosing eye contact. What do I have to loose? Then his lips turned up in a smirk. He looked a lot less crazy than I probably did, I watched as his mouth opened, and barley heard as he breathed out a single sentence.

"Who the fuck are you?"

A/N: Keep in mind it's been three years, and throughout the three years it's been a downward spiral for Bella she's bound to be different, she doesn't have anything to loose.

Please R&R, I don't care if you review just to tell me to go to hell, just anything other than 'update'. I'd love to hear constructive criticism.