Prologue

I never really cared if I died.

Its not that I didn't like my life, I did but I knew the life I was living wasn't the one for me. I was different but a special different. I could do things not any normal person could. My vision was better than any 20/20 could match. I could smell sharper and run faster, then once I became something else, an animal.

A wolf actually. An over sized snow white wolf. It had shocked me the first time, and I was in pain for a few days straight, it felt as if my body was being torn and changed. And I was.

Nobody knows though, if they did, I'd be running from more than just my so called father. He hated me, as did I; to the point if I hadn't left he would have killed me.

My mother had warned me to stay out of other people's business but I could not. If I saw someone in trouble, my body would move on its own to protect the person. She said to me that my caring would be the death of me. But as always, her lectures went in through one ear and out the other. The warnings were always the same but I could have cared less. I would die to protect someone if it meant they could live to take another breath.

I never paid any attention to her warnings, that is, until that one incident. Death had been non-existent to me, something I never really thought of as possible to happen.

She scolded me time and time again, not understanding me. That was the problem. No one understood my obsession with helping. Truly, I could not help it. There was a need in me that sparked each time danger approached.

The danger only increased as did my need to protect after one heated argument between the man from hell and me.

The night had been peaceful; I kept to myself while working on my homework, my mother busy cooking dinner. Then he came storming through the front door drunk as if the world was ending; I could smell the alcohol from the kitchen. He tumbled to his favorite seat in the house, his couch. He seemed to be in an awful bad mood that night and in my mind I was warning myself to resist saying anything about it.

But my temper had gotten the best of me. In the back of my head a list of incidents of him being drunk, him hitting me and my mother scrolled down. "Damn alcoholic bastard." It wasn't supposed to come out. When the words left my mouth, my mother's face went pale and her posture stiffened. She knew he had heard me.

"What was that you little bitch?" He stood from his seat, like he did when he was trying to prove his dominance over anyone. Only, I wasn't going to fear him. I stood, the chair's legs scraping the cold tile. I turned to him, the man just a foot away. His face was becoming red in anger. "You heard me you bastard. You come home thinking you own everything!" I seethed, aggravated.

"I do. This is my home, my furniture, my food, my property." He replied with a bite. My eyes narrowed at him, a hint of fear flashed in his eyes. He wasn't used to my defiance. He didn't wasn't to lose control.

"No, this is my mother's house and property! You're just a jerk she got together with!" I had no time to brace myself for the impact.

I went sprawling to the ground, my side hitting the end of the table in the process. I winced and hissed on the ground. "Stop it!" My mother screamed, throwing the hand towel on the table. "Shut the hell up!'

I wouldn't mind him hitting me, because I could handle it. But when he hit my mom, I snapped. "Don't you touch her!" I stood in the fastest speed ever and pushed him, full force into the door frame. His back hit the frame and he came at me. I rounded the table and waited for him to make his moves. He became predictable when provoked.

He slammed the table back; I moved out of the way in time and ran at him. He then close lined me. I fell onto my back, the sides bruising in seconds. He then put his hands on my neck and started to strangle me. I flailed. I couldn't breathe.

My legs went up I hit him between the legs. He toppled over. Coughing, I crawled to the stove. My hand went up and I grabbed an un-used pan and hit him over the head. He was knocked unconscious. My mother's sobs cut through me like a knife in the air, swiftly and forcefully.

"Mom…" I walked to her, but she out her hands out in front as to silently say no. "Go pack a bag. You can't stay here." She told me, not daring to look me in the eye. She knew what would be there, betrayal and hurt. "Mom." I said much louder. Her body visibly winced. "He'll kill you."

So I did as she said. I rushed up stairs and to my bedroom. I grabbed my school bag and dumped it all. I filled the bag with clothes, money I stored, and a picture of my mother. I didn't have many belongings.

She didn't look me in the eyes, not once. I ran out of the house, tears rolling down my red cheeks. Not even a goodbye was said between us.

I ran not knowing where I was headed, but I guess anywhere was better than there.

The forest was my home for a week. That's how long it took me to get to La Push. I hadn't expected to be there of all places. I wanted to go somewhere warmer and louder, so I could hide from my old life, and never return.

I discarded my old name, Heaven and became Nevaeh. Creative, huh?

But more troubles would soon follow even if I tried my hardest.

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