Love Like This

Ch 1: New Territory

(A/N: I hope you like it.)

"Wake up, Alicia. We're here."

I opened my eyes at the sound of my dads voice and the constant pitter patter of rain against the roof. I lifted up the seat and pressed my face into the cold glass of the window. Outside was a small street of row houses on one side, woods on the other, blanketed in the greenest of greens. My eyes flashed momentarily to the house, a faded canary yellow house with burgundy shingles and a big sloping front yard, but I was drawn to the deep green forest that felt, as I gazed into its woodsy depths, strangely like home. I opened the door and got out, standing in the drizzle and gazing at it; the place I was supposed to call home for the next year or so.

My dad passed by me on the way to the trunk and gave me the key to the house.

"Go on, get out of the rain. You'll catch a cold."

Psh, like a little rain is anything compared to the storm I have been facing almost my entire life.

I turned and trudge up the cracked driveway to the little house with the canary yellow siding and the green, green grass. The rain plastered my thick black hair to my face as I looked up at the top floor of the house. I stopped at the little porch and opened the door. It was small inside, and already our furniture was pushed into the corners of the room; pictures on the wall. None of mom. Dad had stored them away after she disappeared, her memory too painful for him to face. Not that I minded not seeing her face.

I honestly don't see what the bid deal is. She was always out there. She was a cheater, a hypocrite, and a bad mother to boot. What did he miss about her? The only thing that she had going for her was her looks. She was beautiful. Classically so. She had deep green eyes and she wore her long shiny black hair long and in layers. I remember watching her in her vanity mirror, brushing it. The long silky straight strands gliding through the brush without a problem. She would see me watching her, shoot me a look and say "Go. Mommy needs her private time," and I'd scatter. She used the word 'mommy' like it was a curse.

I touched my own hair, thinking about it. It was the same texture, had the same glossy look to it, except that it was naturally curly. The only good thing she gave me. As a matter of fact, it's the only thing she ever gave me and I bet she would take it back if she could. Hannah was never a good mother. She was impatient, dramatic, and self centered. She used to complain to me about how I had ruined her body, made skin that was once silky and smooth riddled with stretch marks and how hard she had to work to get her body back in shape after I had come out. She had shown no affection towards me, and if she had, it was before I could remember. I used to always think that I had done something wrong as a child, and I was always trying to make up for it by being extra good and helping around the house as much as I can, trying to make her love me and stop hating me. Now I know the truth; Hannah loved no one but herself.

I walked through the small living room through to a small kitchen and back, to the stairs by the door. I moved up them slowly, looking at all the pictures of myself as a child on up that dad had taken. My dad was a photographer. Back when we lived in New York, he was famous. He shot models for Elle and People magazine and even Vogue. It was where he met Hannah, who was a model at the time.

At the top of the stairs was a short hallway that extended in both directions. I went left first, only to find a Master bedroom with all of Dads stuff in it. I closed the door behind me and went to the opposite of the hallway to find first a guess room, then my own room tucked against the corner. It was barren, a blank canvas that most would have seen as new opportunity.

But not me. I just wanted to return to NYC, my home. This wasn't home. This was an escape for Dad. He had told me only two weeks before about an exciting new job here, about how this could be a life changing thing for him.

I actually believed him until I saw the nature catalogue on his bed, a want ad for a photographer circled in red ink on the back. I didn't confront him on it, though. Dad was under a lot of stress after Hannah's disappearance a year back. She left him torn and ragged, and it was my job to help him heal. I wouldn't break his heart by refusing, even if it meant leaving all I knew behind; leaving my home in lively New York City and our penthouse apartment for a shy little town in Washington and a shaggy little house on death row.

I sat down on the white bed in the sparsely furnished room that was supposed to be my own, but looked more like a hospital room than a 17 year old girl's.

"Home sweet home," I whispered to myself, pulled my hair back into a braid, and made my way down the steps, out the door and to the car to help Dad load our stuff into the house.

---

The next week, I had lazed around the new house, not doing or speaking much at all. Knowing a total of one person in the whole state of Washington, I was lonely, and I watched way too much TV and read way too many books. I didn't mean to sulk, not exactly. I had decided to make the best of the situation. But that didn't mean that I was happy about it.

One night, eight days after we moved here, I thought I was going to go insane. Dad was away at work, and I had been watching a SpongeBob Squarepants marathon all day. So, it was begging to rub off on me, and I was feeling slightly kooky when I went out onto the porch to get some fresh air, surprised that the rain had finally stopped, and the green of the forest, inescapable, caught my eye.

Now, I'm a city girl. I'm not the camping type, and I hear the stories almost everyday, in fourteen different variations, about how people get killed in the forest by man /machine /beast. But as I sat there looking into that deep green forest, so unlike any I had ever seen, I had the sudden urge to go. So I got up, went into the house and pulled on my old combat boots, a hoodie over a sweatshirt, grabbed a flashlight, and before I knew it, I was at the opening of the forest.

Gulp.

I switched on the flashlight and it illuminated only ten feet or so in front of me. Which was not a lot. But something pushed me forward, told me to go anyway. The sun, which was just barely out only seconds before, had completely disappeared under the cover of darkness. The forest, oddly enough, was completely silent. Not animal noises, nothing. That really should have been another reason for me to hightail it out of there, but still, I was pushed further.

And deeper. Until when I turned around I was not able to see the street anymore, just more forest.

And that's when I heard it.

A faint rustling in the greenery. I swung my flashlight in the direction I heard it but there was nothing there. At least not in the ten feet I could see.

"Someone there?"

Nothing. I was just about to turn around when I was interrupted by a voice.

"Yes, Someone is here. But the question is, what are you doing here?"

I swung in the direction of the voice, but again, nothing was there.

I am going to die in this forest.

"I.. I was just going for a walk."

"It's late; it's dark."

"I know. Look, I'll just be going home now…"

I looked around. I didn't know which way home was. All the spinning had me confused.

"You're lost."

The voice, a mans, wasn't menacing. But it wasn't a question.

"I'm not." I tried to sound bold, even though I was weak in the knees.

There was an amused chuckle. Sicko.

"Ill help you."

"I said I'm fine."

"But you aren't." The voice was right in my ear that time.

I gasped and turned around and slammed hard into someone's burning chest, letting out an 'oomph'. Turning away, I tripped over my own foot, and before I could put my hands out, I was going down.

And was promptly caught and righted before the scream that had began to build in my throat had a chance to erupt.

It was that fast.

I turned to face the guy and I could see only his silhouette in the dark of the forest. My flashlight had been knocked to the ground and the light was directed away from where he was standing.

I might as well face my murderer and go down fighting. Even if he did just save me from bashing my head on that huge rock over there, that didn't mean he wasn't a murderer and just saving me for his own malicious purposes.

Right?

"You okay?"

His voice was kind, and I squinted to look at him. He reached over, picked up my flashlight, and handed it to me.

I aimed it at him.

He was tall, that was the first thing I noticed about him. The second thing I noticed was that he didn't have a shirt on, and he was lanky and muscular.

Yeah, that's right. I noticed his body before I noticed his face.

Anyway, he was Native American, his face was handsome and he had shoulder length, shiny black-brown hair. His eyes were a deep brown that I could see sadness in, even though I had know him a total of 6 seconds. I can recognize sadness when I see it; surely had enough practice to.

I cleared my throat and dropped my eyes after realizing that I had been staring.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"I'm Alicia." I hold out a sweaty hand and he laughs,

"A formal introduction," he replies, but he smiles and shakes my hand. His hand was large, and surprisingly hot. So much so, I pulled mine back when I came in contact with his skin. It was hot, hot; like the beach sand in August.

"Heh. Sorry. And for scaring you, too. I'm Jacob Black. But you can call me Jake."