On the surface, Katie Swan appears to be an average girl. She's pretty, athletic, and abnormally intuitive. But when her parents are suddenly murdered, she is sent to Forks, WA to live with her uncle Charlie and his shy daughter Bella.
Soon, Katie l...
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𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄'𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐕 September 1st
I stare out of the window numbly as Charlie drives down the highway, flying past the trees and greenery that led us to his home in Forks, Washington. Oregon had always been so green, but something about these trees felt duller. Foreign. Maybe it was just me that was dull and foreign. Either way, something about the way the light hit the trees felt different. Felt... bleak. And with the sun about to set, the world had taken on a grey hue. Fitting, I suppose.
Before Mom and Dad died, we had talked about moving up here together. Dad had insisted it was important for us to be closer to our family. I knew Bella had moved up to live with her father recently; I was honestly very surprised. From the few limited times I had met Bella's mother, Renee, I was surprised that she would have let Bella come to Forks in the first place. I mean, Renee didn't seem capable to be left alone. But I know she got remarried, which must be hard on Bella, in a sense. Which leads me to my Uncle Charlie. "Just Charlie," he had insisted when I said hello this morning. I nodded. Those were the only words we had spoken this entire drive.
For how much I've heard about Forks, I've never actually been here. Dad and Charlie grew up here, of course, but Dad went away for college and settled in Oregon with my Mom. They had me, and decided that one kid was enough— besides, our house couldn't have fit another person in it anyways. Dad always talked about the house he grew up in and the colors and the smells and the people in the town. I had always ached to come to Forks above all other destinations, if only just to be a part of his world. And now, I had nowhere else to go.
And it was all my fault.
I almost don't notice when we arrive at the house, narrow and tall with a short driveway and two cars parked in front of it. I look to Charlie with a questioning look, as if to ask, who's car is that?, but he just shakes his head. "Erm, Katie, would you give me a moment? I'm going to go inside for a moment and ask Bella a question, if... if that's alright."
I blink stupidly. "Okay, no worries." I say, as if there were any other response to his comment. He just nods and jumps out of the police cruiser, half-jogging his way up the steps and swings open the front door. I don't bother to try and listen to whatever he must be saying to Bella, but instead flip open the book that's been sitting on my lap, untouched, for several hours.
Not so much a book, per say, as it's annotated so thoroughly that the story is almost unreadable. Notes and comments and feelings are scribbled into the margins, in between lines and quotes, and anywhere there was once blank space is now filled by ink. My mother's work. As somewhat of a literary analyst, she definitely had a lot to say about her favorite, and least favorite, stories. This copy of Little Women was her particular favorite. A prized possession of hers.
