A/N: I know, I'm terrible about updating my other stories, but I had this idea floating around, and I just had to do it. This starts about two years after Breaking Dawn (which I never did read/watch because from what I heard, both just weren't my cup of tea. But I know the bigger events), and the Cullens and Renesmee and Bella and Jacob have left town. Seeing as this is a Paul story, there is no Rachel in this story, either. I'm not sure exactly how old Paul was in New Moon, but in this story he's going to be nineteen, and the main character is eighteen.

I really like the idea behind this one, but I would really appreciate some feedback as to whether or not to continue it. I know the whole mute thing is fairly common, but I twisted it a little because I know I'm tired of reading emotionally-tramautized stories. So, my character doesn't have one. And no, you won't find out her name in this chapter either. :) Reviews would be appreciated.

It was a decision I made a long time ago. Not for any personal reason, or any sort of deep emotional trauma, but because I didn't want my little sister to feel alone. Because I didn't want her to feel like no one understood what she went through. I did it because I couldn't bear hearing her tiny, breathless sobs every night as she held tight to my shirt. She felt as if she were alone in the world, like she would never make friends or get a boyfriend. Never get married and get to have the perfect family the little girl imagined. She was six when I made the decision to stop using words, talking and socializing like every other twelve year old my age was. I became a mute that day, six years ago, and I haven't broken the promise I made to her even to this day.

My parents had been wary of my promise, said that being able to speak was a gift, assured me that Cammy wouldn't feel alone in the world. They said people would understand, that she wasn't the only little girl who couldn't speak. But they weren't the ones who shared a room with the little green eyed girl. They weren't the ones whose bed she had crawled into every night, sobbing her little heart out and using her sign language in rapid pace to tell me how alone she felt. They weren't the ones she would sign about her worries, her fears. No matter what I'd told her, no matter how many times I myself had reassured her that she wasn't alone, and that she would get her perfect family one day, she just wouldn't- couldn't- be happy. She kept telling me, 'I wish I could talk like you do'. So one day, I told her that if she couldn't talk like I could, that I wouldn't talk because she couldn't. I could see it in her eyes then, the hope she'd gotten. The hope that she wouldn't be alone, the hope that I would pave the way for her, that she believed that if I could be silent too, and still have my friends and a happy life, that she would too. So I made it a promise. The only times I ever used my voice were to sing her to sleep, and only when she asked me to.

Camilla Marie Jarricks was born without a 'voice box'. Born without the ability to speak, to be able to communicate, or even scream as a larynx, the part of the throat that normally allowed one to speak and make sounds wasn't developed as it should have been, and never did develop. 'Voice box' transplants were very expensive, not to mention they were rare and more often than not the surgery in some way degrades the larynx. It wouldn't be a garauntee that she would be able to talk normally, and neither my parents, nor Cammy were willing to bring themselves the hope without a garauntee of everything working out. Cammy learned sign language from the moment she started learning. She was alright without having the ability to speak, for a while. Until students at her school began to bully her, telling her they could never be friends with someone they couldn't understand. She went from a bright, smiling and content little girl of four, to a crying mess by the age of five. The teachers had scolded the students, explained the situation, everything. But the damage had already been done, and Cammys image of the world was shattered. So I mended it, and we had never been closer.

She's thirteen now, and was fitting into school fairly well. Then again, she went to a special school for teenagers who used sign language. Not every teacher in public school knows sign language, they're actually far and few between, so we'd sought out the nearest one and she'd adjusted very well since. She'd even signed to me once a few months ago, that she wouldn't hold it against me if I started speaking again. She didn't feel alone anymore, and she knew that I was having just a tiny bit of trouble doing my senior project without a speech and passing. I ended up becoming even more determined to complete my project without speaking, and was resulted with a one-hundred percent on my project on sign language and it's uses for chilren without the ability to speak, as well as on the effect it has on their self esteem to be incapable of vocal use.

I was actually considering taking her up on the offer of breaking from my self-imposed muteness. I couldn't lie, it was difficult going from a fully vocal girl, a socialite at that, to a quiet, silent teenager. It was hard to adjust to, and I'd lost quite a few friends over it. Only two of my very best friends were still by my side. They'd chosen to take up learning sign language themselves. James had actually tried to join me in my silence, but failed because the girl he had a crush on started speaking to him a week later, and he practically exploded back into speaking, but he had still learned to sign. I went through normal public school, and my parents had spoken to my teachers about my decision, so I hadn't had to answer any questions aloud, only write equations and answers and such on the board for participation points. It was a little difficult, I'll admit but I managed.

But at dinner a month ago, the day I was going bring up the subject, my father had announced the news about our move to Washington. See, my father was a surgeon, and there were actually quite a few of them in our small town in Oregon. With as many joining our hospital as there were, his hours at work had been cut back almost in half, and my mothers daycare wasn't doing much business either. He'd been looking into other jobs for a while now, and had gotten a job offer in a small town of Forks, Washinton for a very good pay. He would be one of only three surgeons there, and he needed the job. The only thing was, there wasn't a school there for students who only sign. There was one teacher who coverered all classes for students that signed- the whole four of them that went to the school.

Cammy was upset, to say the least. She was leaving her whole school of friends for a school somewhere new where only four people were silent like her. And probably only a handful of people knew sign language at all. I was was unhappy about moving, dont get me wrong. I was upset about leaving James and Melany, but I didnt have to worry as much as Cammy did, because I had graduated the past May and was no longer worried about school, or trying to 'fit in' with people who spoke at rapid pace. It isn't like I would miss my job much either. Being a waitress at La Cafe de Sol wasn't very exciting. It was a tiny little shop, and didn't do much business but it had been better than nothing.

I understood a bit more than Cammy did too, seeing as how she was only thirteen and didn't understand much of the whole 'hours at work means money' thing. James and Melany were upset at my leaving, but they also understood, and James would be leaving for a college in California in a few months anyway. Melany was working full time at the hospital as one of the cleaning ladies herself, and had been rather busy recently herself. So with teary goodbyes, we promised to write and stay in touch.

Now, a month later, we had packed up and left our childhood home, and were finally settled into our new home in a little rainy town named after cutlery.

A/N: So? Is it alright for a prologue? Let me know!

-Michy