A/N: It's an All Human story but please read it anyway even though there aren't any vamps. My brain has been bugging me to write this so I typed it out.

Disclaimer: Twilight. Is. Not. Mine. Period.

The street I was walking across was unusually bathed in shadows; I shrugged. Art class had let out a bit later than normal today.

I let out a "Whoa!" as someone pushed past me, shoving me to the side, and rushed to the opposite street. I didn't realize how unusual it was for them not to say excuse me—the people in this neighborhood were polite—and how he (or maybe she, I couldn't tell) was clothed in all black, something that no person in Phoenix, Arizona for summer vacation would be.

I shrugged again and brushed it off. Then the site ahead of me made me blink though.

A blond man, around his late 30s, early 40s, had stepped out of a black car—maybe some sort of sedan, I couldn't tell; I was never one to go gaga over cars. The man was handsome and had on a business suit, as if he was late to an important meeting.

But across the street was a person dressed in black—the same person that had pushed me to the side. And in his hand, was a gun.

It was pointed straight towards the blond man.

Adrenaline was pumping through my breath, I gasped. That man was going to… going to die?

The adrenaline made me realize several things at once. First, the gun was pointed towards the blond man's chest; it would be fatal shot straight to the heart as soon as the gun could go off. Second, the blond man had no clue that he was about to be killed; he was looking the other way. Third was the sound of the gun going off.

The sound was cold, deadly. It felt like it froze time, everything slowed down except for that bullet. I could see a glimmer of the future: the blond man falling to the pavement, cold, and dead. I could see the person in black running off. I could faintly hear my own scream. Why hadn't I done anything?

So I acted.

I took a running jump and tackled the blond man, a second too late. The bullet grazed my arm and I could feel a burning pain that overshadowed everything.

I faintly remembered the person in black running off, shouting something I couldn't understand. Then I saw the blond man's face. He looked horrified and concerned at the same time.

Everything faded.

I moaned, my eyes fluttering open. Renee, Charlie, and Phil crowded into my eyesight.

"Honey, you're awake!" Renee exclaimed, tears streaming down her face. "I thought you weren't going to wake up!"

"Huh—what?" I groaned, utterly confused from the weird dream I had just had.

"You don't remember a thing, do you?" she replied, looking concerned.

"Did I fall down again—oh." I interrupted myself.

"That man—he had a gun—an-and that other man," I stuttered in a panic thinking, my dream was real?

"It's okay now," Charlie soothed me. "It's all taken care of."

Beep… Beep… Beep…

The sound reminded me of my alarm clock and I asked faintly, "Will someone turn off my alarm clock?"

Renee, Phil, and Charlie exchanged those 'should we tell her?' looks and it worried me so I glanced around and noticed the white curtains and antiseptic smell of a hospital.

"I'm in a hospital, aren't I?"

"That you are," someone said, opening the door I hadn't noticed and walking in. He was tall and dressed in a blue pinstriped business suit. As he turned to face me I recognized his blond hair and handsome face.

"You're that man?" I asked again, not using a name since I didn't know one. (And I just couldn't call him Mr. Man, could I?)

As I looked around I noticed my parents' expressions. Renee was wiping imaginary dirt from her clothes and Charlie was fidgeting. They both looked uncomfortable.

And when I glanced back at the man, I really looked at him. There was something about him; I recognized him. It was the kind, open features of his face and his blue eyes that actually clued me in.

I groaned again. "Please tell me you're not Carlisle Cullen."

He chuckled, "I can lie if you want."

"Did I really tackle the President of the United States?"

"You actually saved me from being assassinated," he replied, suddenly serious.

I didn't no how to reply to that. I mean, what was I supposed to say? That I, Bella Swan, brown hair, brown eyes, 5'4", saved the president?

"Honey…" started Renee and I knew that it was bad news especially when Mr. President muttered, "I'll leave you to tell her," and left.

"Just get it out, Mom!" I was suddenly angry. Did they really think that I was so weak that I couldn't deal with anything?

"You're…" her voice trailed off and she started again. "You're going to live in the White House."

Silence.

"Why?" That was all I need to say; it was filled with too many emotions. I didn't know if I should explode in anger or wrinkle my forehead in confusion.

"Mr. Cullen says the people trying to assassinate him might try to kill you… Since you messed up their plan," Renee rushed out.

"So I'm getting carted off to White House like an Endangered animal?!" This time I didn't need to think about what emotion I was feeing; it was pure anger.

"Bella!" Renee admonished. "It's for your own good, you'll be safe."

"There's this organization… hmm," I sarcastically pretended to contemplate the name of it. "I think it's called the Witness Protection Program… yeah, that's the name! Ever heard of it?"

Surprisingly it was Charlie that made me lose my anger. "Please, Bells," he pleaded, using my childhood nickname. "These people are dangerous. I don't want to see my baby girl killed."

Beep… Beep… Beep… went the heart monitor.

"Fine," I sighed.

Satisfied that I was safe, Renee smothered me in kisses. I allowed her to, knowing that she had been worried.

"I'll have to get you new clothes…" she babbled on.

"Mom," I drew her attention. "If your sending me to purgatory the least you could do was let me pick out which clothes I wore there."

"Well, I wouldn't exactly call my house 'purgatory', but that's your opinion," Carlisle Cullen entered the hospital room again chuckling.

I blushed.

***

Several hours later I was standing outside of the most fancy house in the whole U.S. But there was only word I was thinking and it wasn't 'cool.' It was 'intimidating.'

"I won't die here, I won't die here, I won't die here," I chanted under my breath as we entered the White House and went under some security measures.

"Now, let me introduce you to my family." Mr. Cullen steered me away from the security guards.

One of the guards swept past us—to check on something, I supposed—and as he passed me he muttered into my ear, "You won't die here, don't worry. Then we'll be out of job."

Whoever that guard was—I thanked him silently as my nerves were dissolved into a fit of laughter. Mr. Cullen smiled knowingly and led me through a series of hallways and into a crème room.

6 people were seated in the middle of the room. I took in their features first. Mr. Cullen's wife was seated on the edge of couch—she looked barely over 35 and her caramel hair and pale skin made her look beautiful.

Out of the boys, the first was muscled, like a weightlifter. He had dark curly hair and hazel eyes. The second was lean and lanky, honey-blond hair shrouded his face and ice blue eyes took me in calmly. The last was probably the most beautiful. He had tousled bronze hair and green eyes—like jade, or, I decided, emeralds. His jaw was strong and he was glancing at me curiously.

There were only two girls, but they were both absolutely beautiful. The first had blond hair that gently waved down her back and the same ice blue eyes as the blond boy. Her figure was the kind of one that was front page on Vogue every month. The second girl was petite, with a pixie-like frame and black hair that spiked up in every direction. Somehow it suited her and her eyes—which were a lighter green than the bronze-haired boy's, sort of a light jade color. She was just as beautiful as the blond haired girl.

Mr. Cullen decided to introduce me. "Everyone, this is Isabella Swan."

Bella—this is my family: Esme, my wife; Emmett, Jasper, and Edward, my sons; and Rosalie and Alice, my daughters."

In some corner of my brain I stored away the information that the bronze-haired boy was named Edward.

The blond haired girl—Rosalie—spoke up. "So this is the girl you were talking about?"

There was so much contempt in her voice and she shot me a look of distain. That was what did it.

I had just moved across the country after being told that I was on a hit list and she talked to me like that? My kindness snapped.

"If it helps you sleep any better at night I got a bullet in my arm for my actions," I snarled and instantly regretted my rudeness.

Everyone looked shocked and I took the moment to say, "Mrs. Cullen, I'm tired," here I faked a yawn which I'm sure they could tell was fake due to my poor acting skills, "Would you mind if I went to a guest room or something now? I'm not sure if I'll be joining you for dinner, jetlag and all."

"Call me Esme," she insisted first. I wanted to but the sensible part of my brain reminded me, don't get attached. You're here until you're not #1 on a hit list.

"And your room is already made," Esme continued.

"Thanks, Mrs. Cullen," I replied, and started retreating from the room.

"How are you supposed to find your room?" Carlisle—as he wanted me to call him—called after me.

"I will," I stubbornly replied. "And if I have trouble I'm sure I can always ask all of the men in the black suits with the James Bond glasses that are always following me. I'm sure they know some answers."

Before I walked away I heard a roomful of laughter.

A/N: So my friend was reading some book by Meg Cabot that was about a girl who saved the president. That's where I got my idea. But I haven't read the book, so it's not going to be exactly like it, I just got the idea from it.

Now, opinions? Be harsh, I need to know if it should be continued.

Review please! ;)