Disclaimer for the whole story: Twilight is not mine.

Between Two Trees

"And if you get to heaven I'll be here waiting, babe."

- "Dead!" by My Chemical Romance

Bella

My eyes opened slowly, heavily as a bright light assaulted them.

It was too bright, too unnatural, and I fought to shut my eyes against the offending shine, but that didn't seem to help either. Each blink of my eyelids failed to sheild me, and I struggled for what felt like minutes (but what I would find out later to be less than a second) until the brightness began to ease.

Eventually the light dulled into a normal sort of morning glow and I was able to concentrate more completely on what was clouding my head.

This sensation, this new feeling, was overwhelming, yet familiar.

I was waking up. Merely opening my eyes to a new day, just as I had many times before in my 20 years of life.

Of course that's a rather simple concept for those of us who have managed to keep living all of our lives. I mean, waking up isn't a new thing. Yet here I was, marveling at the action and the way it felt like my body was finding release because of it. As if waking up this time felt... different.

It felt refreshing, and rewarding, which were great feelings. But there was something else about this...morning I guess it was.

Something disturbing.

Many things about this waking up were disturbing me.

For one, this room was unfamiliar. It was beautiful no doubt, wrapping around me with cream walls highlighted in forest green and gold accents. The bed I was in was engulfing me in a giant, fluffy forest green comforter and my head was nestled into a pile of chocolate and gold pillows. The room was furnished well, or rather to my liking, so it was "well" according to my standards. There was a beatiful wooden dresser on one side of the room, the side my head was turned to when my eyes opened and had stopped battling the bright mystery light from before. It's sides were engraved with ornate vines and leaves which ran all the way up the vanity mirror and curled into each other, twisting into a beautiful wooden knot at the top. When I turned my head I found that a matching vine-covered bookcase overtook the wall on the other side of the room, and even in my disturbed state I managed to be pleased that it was completely filled with books.

There were paintings on the wall that all sort of added to my distrubance. They were all dipictions of intricate, lush forest landscapes and they were mysteriously beautiful. The thing that was disconscerting about them was, despite how beautiful each painting was, the giant trees held an eerie essence, almost a haunted feeling. Every shadow seemed to hold a secret, which was probably silly because the paintings were no more than colors dashed across canvas.

Another thing that was amiss was the fact that I was in a white nightgown. It was soft and comfortable but let's face it, a bit old fashioned. I felt like Wendy Darling minus the light blue hue that Disney put her in and made her famous for. I have not owned or seen an actual nightgown since I was about 5 years old and enjoyed feeling pretty as I laid down for bed. These days oversized sweat pants and a tank top were my normal sleep attire. But here I was in a white frock I'd never seen before and wasn't entirely sure was still manufactured and sold regularly. At least not in any of the public shopping locations I'd visited during my entire existence in Pheonix, Arizona. But then again, I didn't seem to be in Pheonix, Arizona anymore. Disturbing.

I also felt like there was something I was missing or forgetting that would make all of these odd detials make sense. Almost as if I should have expected to be here.

Waking up in an unfamiliar place clearly made me curious. It didn't necessarily feel wrong though. I didn't feel scared or anxious, just a bit disturbed at the feeling of unease that was skirting my stomache and lurking in the back of my mind.

I mean, I shouldn't feel uneasy in my room.

"My room," I whispered out loud to myself in shock.

"My room?" I questioned next, again to myself.

It was an automatic thought, something that had just come to me as I rambled other thoughts around in my head about this new location, but it was untrue. This was not my room. My room was in Phoenix in the only house I've ever lived in. My room was still painted purple from when I was a child and my mother thought that purple was better than pink and still a color that would be distinctly feminine. I've added my own touches to it as I've gotten older, but it wasn't too different from the girly image she'd tried to force upon me when I still virtually moldable.

Suddenly I missed my mother more than I had in a very long while due to the fact that this was not the room she'd designed for 5 year old me. It was separate from her. I hadn't felt this disconnected to her since I lost her, and that did not feel good at all. Waking up in an unfamiliar place jarred me into longing for her her smile and scent, which I hadn't allowed myself to do consciously for 2 years now.

This place, wherever it was, was comfortable and beautiful but I was not supposed to be here, I couldn't be. It wasn't the home Renee had left me with.

But it was mine.

Ugh. Somehow I couldn't erase that feeling of ownership.

God, this was odd.

The most distrubing thing of all, and definitely the most intriguing thing I woke up to, was not all of that, however. It was not the odd possessive feelings I had over the room I found myself in. It wasn't the eerie forest paintings, the furniture, the dress shaped pajamas, or the vast supply of books that kept calling to me.

Not even close.

The most disturbing thing I woke up to was the gorgeous man-boy I suddenly turned to see, sitting on top of the vine engraved dresser, leaning back casually on his hands, staring at me with excited, menacing, secretive, bright green eyes.

His stare was sharp and almost as unnerving as the way he seemed to appear from thin air, in a spot I'd seen entirely void of him just moments ago.

His stare was inviting.

And at the same time disturbingly possessive.

Before I could even fully appreciate the disarray of his bright bronze hair, or the sharpness of his jaw, or the unearthly way his posture sat atop the wooden structure, his perfect lips twisted into a dangerous sort of smirk and he spoke to me in a voice that felt just as the room did.

Familiar, foreign, new, and mine.

"Isabella. Welcome. You have no idea how long I've been waiting for you."

Yes, this is something new. Entirely. No, I don't know what I'm thinking.

I promise I have every intention of finishing More More More and then continuing Pretendre Desir Amour if you are waiting on either of those. I just couldn't keep this one in any longer.

Send me your thoughts!

The chapters shouldn't ever be this short again.

I'm hoping to have fun with this :)

LOVE YOUS