AN: I know, I know, why am I starting yet another new story when I technically still have so many unfinished ones? Well, rest assured, this isn't actually a new story. It's a story I started a long time ago, wrote several chapters of and never got around to posting. I found it when I was looking through my Google Docs, it was buried at the bottom of the list!

And since I have to clean my house this week and won't have as much time to write (ugh #houseworksucks) I thought I ought to be nice and make sure you still have something to read!

Hope you enjoy this one! Let me know your thoughts!

Prelude

So, as it turned out...arriving in Forks was the best thing I could have ever done for myself. Not that I would dare take any of the credit. My arrival in the small town was not of my own choosing. However, I had to admit that nearly everything had gotten better for me since finding myself in Washington. But, I should probably step back a bit and explain who I am and why this is at all significant, perhaps.

Like many of you, I too was a fan of Twilight. I believed it to be a series of young adult literature, revolving around a highly relatable, fictional, teenage girl; happily immersed in the supernatural world, of vampires and shapeshifters. Of course, I was never naïve enough to believe there was any truth to the stories. Stephenie Meyer wrote them, and that was all they were, just books. Nothing more.

At least, that is what I believed for a long time after reading them. What I couldn't possibly have known then, as an average, ordinary, fan of the Twilight series...was that those books, would quite literally, become my life.

I was not a very popular person, by nature. I tended to alienate people by being too talkative and I had often, over the years, been told that I needed to learn how to use my filter. And also how to control my temper but it's not like I intentionally lash out at people. At least, not anymore.

I lived with my mother as a teenager and my grandmother in my grandmother's house. I was a flower-child of sorts, raised by a hippy pacifist. My mother never believed in disciplining me. She wanted, rather, to be my best friend instead. Picture a bit of Renee Dwyer's flaky, free-spirited way, combined with Esme Cullen's nurturing nature, and Alice's craziness thrown in for good measure, that would be an approximate summary of my mother.

My grandmother, on the other hand, was more like Rose. Strong, stubborn, the fix-it-yourself type. Quiet and unassuming, until you get her riled and when you do, stand back because it's bound to get ugly!

So there you have it, that was my foundation. But just because I was raised by two strong, independent women, the type who didn't need a man in their lives to take care of them...does not, for even one second, mean that is how I was wired.

Quite the opposite, in fact. I was always waiting for prince charming to show up. Except I never pictured the literal charming prince type, per se.

No, my dream man was a much darker creature. From a young age, I was drawn to the bad boys. Not the ones who would tease me and throw rocks at pigeons, of course, no. But my first crush was the youngest boy to be expelled from my elementary school. My second crush was a member of a metal rock band, and my third crush left a trail of broken hearts all over the city we lived in at the time, including mine.

When these were the kind of boys I was drawn to, it's no wonder that I had dreams of growing up to be a mob boss and it is also not that weird, that I ended up extremely infatuated with vampires.

But I suppose, I was also drawn to the light. After all, that first crush just happened to be as sweet as a puppy dog. The second...well, I suppose I neglected to mention it was a Christian metal rock band. And the third, well, he was also a good friend to me, in spite of his many flaws and fickle nature.

I realized, eventually, that the mob life wasn't going to be a realistic plan for me. As much as I loved the secretive world of power and wealth that the television portrayed; I knew I wasn't actually cut out for the darker underbelly of society.

But unlike the rest of these childhood whims, the obsession with vampires did not merely fade away. It grew stronger and I devoured everything I could get my hands on; reading stories, watching television and movies, etc. I was even a vampire for Halloween several times and at one point I threw out my entire, brightly colored, wardrobe in exchange for a more Gothic style of clothing.

Well, one dark day, I found out the hard way that not only were vampires real, but they were not to be trifled with. I was reading the Twilight books for the fourth time when all of a sudden there was a knock at my door. I could hear my mother and grandmother arguing in our dining room, which was not an uncommon occurrence, so I took the liberty of answering it myself.

It was a woman, who frantically barged inside and started drawing something on the wall of my living room. "I don't have time to explain, but it's a Portal. It's the only thing that can save you now. Just throw the books in, and they'll take you to that world. It's real, it exists in another dimension. I've been there. But I'm the only person I know of who can travel this way, or make a Portal in the first place, and he's going to kill me. He wants to kill you too, but if you go through now, I can seal the Portal and he can't follow you. You'll be safe. Go!" she screamed, pushing me toward my now glowing wall.

"But my family!?" I cried, not wanting to leave them, along with the only world I had ever known.

"I'll lead him away from here but there isn't much time! Go!" she yelled again, shoving me through. I reluctantly complied. But the last sounds I heard, as I traveled to a new world, were the blood-curdling screams of my mother and grandmother. And the sound of the Portal behind me, being sealed, forever.

I suppose it should not have been a surprise to me then, that I would find myself in the world of the books; or that the world of the books itself was not that much different than my own. Or should I say, my former world.

What surprised me the most though, was the fact that I was not me any longer. I was still a girl, with brown hair. About the same age as I had been, maybe a year or two younger. But I had become considerably shorter and lost a tremendous amount of weight; dropping from a size sixteen to a size two. My eyes were no longer their boring, blue-grey color anymore, either. They were now a warm, rich brown.

My mother was still screaming...but instead of the terrible screams I had heard as I departed from my old world, these new screams were intent on reminding me of the things I still needed to pack. I think I must have heard the word umbrella yelled to me about six times, at least.

And the voice sounded a lot different. Not to mention the fact that it was accompanied by the soft reassurances of one far less scatterbrained, minor league ballplayer, named Phil.

That's right, ladies and gentlemen, the Portal had not only transported me to a new world but had also given me a new life to live, in a new body. From that day forward, I would forevermore look into the mirror and see the face of one Isabella Marie Swan!

Oh well, at least the books survived the trip. With any luck, I could use them as a sort of travel guide for this new journey which was sure to be an interesting, yet chaotic one.

Forks, Washington…here I come!

AN: Also, I changed the years that the books were published for the purposes of this story. Partly to illustrate that they were written in a slightly different universe than ours and partly to fit the character.