empathy

Prologue

Forks. Small, detestable town.

Everybody knows everybody. Everybody knows everything. Everybody talks. And everybody judges.
But at the same time, nobody knows anything. Nobody sees the obvious. And nobody actually really cares unless it is worth the gossip. 

That was only one of the dozens of reasons for Anastasia to loathe the place she grew up. 

Every inhabitant knew when her mother died and every single one of them made sure to show their condolence. But nobody cared enough to show their sympathy further than that. 

Anastasia was four at the time her mother died and Anastasia was five when she first felt the sting left by her father's fist. She was eight when she first skipped school and she was nine when she first ran away and didn't come back until Chief Swan found her residing under a bridge and brought her home. But she didn't really learn out of her mistake as she was gone again just two days later. 

Not that anyone bothered to scrutinize the reason behind her will to sleep on the streets rather than her comfortable bed. No, her worried father and her inability to feel any remorse for her action were enough for them to characterize her as a simple trouble maker. 

But Anastasia did learn out of that. She learnt that people seeing you as an incendiary doesn't get you very far but at the same time, it gets you as far as you want. 

People will not pay much attention when you do something wrong because it is what they expect from you but they also pay the closest of attention because they do not want you to cause trouble. It's weird, really. But it got Anastasia to think her actions through... as well as she could. She has always had trouble not acting impulsively; one of the things to rile her father up the most. The words just fell off her mouth before she thought them through. 

Anastasia was twelve when she first broke into her teacher's home to get the answers to a test she was supposed to write the next day, somehow managing not to get caught while doing so and she was twelve when she first stole out of a supermarket. 

She was fifteen when she got in her first fight and sixteen when she learnt how to throw knives, which ended up with one of them in her father's shoulder. Not that she cared much, she just... couldn't. 

And Anastasia was seventeen when she met the Cullens. And Hales. She was seventeen when she found out just how oblivious this despicable town actually is. 

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Hey, 

I hope you liked the prologue and actually got a little intrigued by the story

- maybe even intrigued enough to read further? 

If you guys have any notes, I would be delighted, if you left a comment. 

And, if you have any wishes, you are free to comment on them as well; I am always open for new ideas to make my story more interesting for you if I think it would fit the plot I have in mind so far.