Disclaimer

Twilight and all affiliated characters are the property of Stephanie Meyer. I do not own any of the aforementioned characters except Beth and the plot of this story (that is, should it stray from the original Twilight). This story is for entertainment only and is not part of the official story line. I am not in any way, shape, or form benefiting financially from the publishing of this story on this site and am very grateful for Mrs. Meyer's creation. Besides, if I did financially benefit from this story, I'd probably buy a mansion in Forks and hire a team of sparkling vampires as my personal butlers. But alas, my bank account remains as human as Bella Swan's clumsiness. So, let's just enjoy this tale for what it is: a fangtastic flight of fancy!

Amid the quietude of Forks, Beth often found herself seeking solace within the embrace of the dense pine forests that surrounded the area. It was a refuge where she could escape the noise of her own thoughts and the weight of her emotions. With each step she took on the narrow trails, the rhythmic sound of her boots squelching through the mud and the faint whisper of the wind and thick coating of fog between the trees became a soothing soundtrack, drowning out the chaos that often swirled within her mind. The forest provided a sense of isolation that Beth found strangely comforting. She welcomed the solitude, using these moments to reflect on her thoughts, the past, and the multitude of emotions that seemed to consume her. Among the towering trees, she could simply be, without the expectations or demands of the world pressing upon her. As she ventured deeper into the woods, the trees closed in around her, casting dappled shadows that danced across the forest floor. The scent of pine hung in the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of fallen leaves and damp soil. It was as if the forest itself understood her need for solace, offering its tranquility without judgment.

Beth often found herself perched on a moss-covered rock or leaning against a tree trunk, her eyes fixed on the play of sunlight filtering through the canopy. The gentle rustle of leaves overhead and the distant calls of birds provided a symphony of nature's melodies, pulling her away from the turmoil of her own thoughts. Hiking through the forest allowed Beth to clear her mind and regain a sense of balance. She felt the tension slowly easing from her shoulders as she breathed in the crisp, invigorating air. There were moments when she would pause, closing her eyes, and letting the sounds of nature envelop her, providing a temporary respite from the internal struggles that often consumed her.

In school, she draped a beanie over her head, using it as a shield to conceal her newly shaved hair. It was her way of maintaining a semblance of normalcy amidst the storm of emotions she was battling. The beanie became a comforting companion, one that allowed her to face the world while keeping her vulnerability hidden from the prying eyes of her peers.

Amid the bustling hallways of Forks High School, Beth walked with a heavy heart, her beanie pulled down low, casting a shadow over her closely cropped hair. The soft murmurs and curious glances that followed her felt like a constant weight, an unwelcome reminder of the whispers that swirled around her. She tried to keep her head down, to ignore the prying eyes, but the words were hard to ignore.

The gossip had taken on a life of its own, weaving a web of speculation and half-truths. Among the whispers, one thread seemed to persist above all—the rumor that Beth was battling cancer. It was a twisted game of telephone, distorted words and assumptions passed from one person to another until it became its own twisted reality. It was sickening how fast Fork's rumor mill worked. She wouldn't be too surprised if Charlie took her in for a checkup by next week.

Each step she took through the corridors was accompanied by a chorus of hushed voices. "Have you seen Beth?" "I heard she's really sick." "Someone said she's been missing a lot of school."

It was as if everyone suddenly felt the need to be an expert on her life, to dissect every detail without bothering to ask her directly. But the latter wasn't wrong about her missing school. Some days she just wouldn't bother, not answering when Bella came to her door to knock in the morning and taking a long walk in the forest just on the outskirts of school. Eventually, her twin stopped knocking altogether and instead just waited by the dining table. If Bella didn't see her by the time eight thirty came around, Beth didn't go in. Not that Charlie made a fuss, his own ineptitude about how to deal with his teenage daughter's (depression included) act of rebellions made apparent. She couldn't blame him either. In all honesty, Beth had no idea if Mrs. Cope had started to call him due to her absence yet, and if she had, he didn't show it. No doubt she would probably be grounded by now. But no punishment came. And it wasn't as though he'd be stopping her from doing much. Beth either spent her time sleeping, hiking or cooking and going to school nowadays. And if she wasn't doing that, she was assisting Grandma Helen - who actually needed the help. She'd only missed enough days so that it wouldn't affect her grades, anyways.

As she pushed open the door to her classroom, Beth clenched her jaw, frustration bubbling within her. She was tired of being reduced to a rumor, tired of feeling like she had to hide her true self under a beanie. But she also knew that confronting the whispers head-on would only add fuel to the fire. Gossip thrived on attention, and she refused to give it that satisfaction. Taking her seat, she let out a slow exhale, trying to center herself before the lesson began. Her classmates chatted around her, unaware of the turmoil that churned beneath her calm exterior.

When the teacher started speaking, Beth focused on the words, determined to block out the noise. She was not defined by the rumors that swirled around her, not limited to the stories that others constructed. She was grappling with her own battles, navigating her own journey, and she refused to let anyone else dictate her narrative.

As Beth continued her hikes and navigated the challenges of everyday life, she found herself in an intricate dance between isolation and connection. The forest granted her moments of clarity and introspection, while her beanie became a silent confidant that concealed the changes she wasn't ready to share. And through it all, amidst the towering pines and rustling leaves, she sought a path to healing, guided by the whispers of the natural world around her.

However, her solitude didn't go as unnoticed as she'd hoped. One evening, as Beth prepared to head out for another hike- a new trail she hadn't done before, her father's call of her name stopped her at the door. "Can we talk?"

She turned to face him, her expression guarded. "Sure."

The living room was bathed in the warm glow of the table lamp as Charlie sat on the old teal couch, waiting for Beth to join him. He had noticed the subtle changes in her behavior, the way she had been retreating into herself, and it weighed heavily on his mind. Beth entered the room, her gaze meeting Charlie's as she took a seat in the armchair across from him. Her beanie was absent, revealing her shaved head, and Charlie's concern deepened. He cleared his throat, choosing his words carefully.

"Beth, we need to talk," he began, his voice gentle but firm. "I've noticed that you've been spending a lot of time alone, going on hikes and isolating yourself. But I just want to make sure you're okay."

Beth shifted in her seat, her fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. She met her father's gaze briefly before looking away, her emotions welling up within her.

"I'm fine, Dad," she replied, her tone guarded. "I just need some time alone, that's all."

Charlie sighed, leaning forward slightly. "Beth, you know you can talk to me, right? If something's bothering you, I want to help."

She remained silent, her eyes fixed on a spot on the wood floor as if it held the answers she couldn't vocalize. She appreciated the sentiment, but after everything that had been circulating through her brain these past few days, it was highly unlikely. Unless of course, she were to tell him that she'd been reincarnated. But that was as much of an option when she'd just been born and as much as it was now- meaning, it was not an option at all. Charlie's heart ached for her, his concern deepening.

"I know you've been through a lot," he continued, his voice softening. "Losing Edward..I know you guys were close and stuff... It's okay to feel overwhelmed. But keeping it all bottled up isn't healthy."

Beth's hands clenched into fists, her emotions swirling within her. She wanted to open up to her father, to share the burden she carried, but the words caught in her throat. The fear of being misunderstood, of burdening him with her struggles, held her back. It wasn't really about Edward. Not in the grand scheme. But more of how similarly another man had left her in another life. How, being hurt so similarly triggered a part of her, a part that she hadn't known wasn't healed and it was as though she had been catapulted back into Genevieve's life during the dark time. Back then she'd been forced to recover quickly, brushed it off because she had a tiny human that she was responsible for, fresh out of the womb. She'd only been twenty back then. Now, in this life? It wasn't the same. She didn't have anyone to be responsible for, no one to care for and it was just as freeing as it was restricting..

"I'm just trying to figure things out, Dad," she finally whispered, her voice barely audible and gruff from days of not speaking to anyone.

Charlie nodded, understanding the weight of her words. He leaned back, his gaze never leaving her. "I get that," he replied. "But I need you to promise me something. With the recent increase in bear sightings around here, I don't want you going out on those hikes alone anymore."

Beth's head snapped up, her eyes narrowing in protest. "What? You can't be serious." Was this what she got for ditching? Was this to be the punishment?

Charlie held his ground, his expression firm but caring. "I'm serious, Beth. It's not safe, especially with all this activity. I really worry about you when you disappear for hours on end. Bella worries about you. And when was the last time you spoke to your mom?"

Anger welled up within her, and Beth pushed back against the restriction he was imposing on her. She felt as though her freedom was being stripped away, and it only added to the turmoil she was already feeling. "You can't control everything, Dad," she retorted instead, her voice tinged with frustration and with the effort it took to hold her anger back.

Charlie's gaze softened, his worry for his daughter outweighing any frustration. "I'm not trying to control you, Beth. I just want to make sure you're safe. You have people here that care a whole lot about you and you're worrying them right now. "

Beth's resistance began to waver, her anger giving way to a sense of resignation. She let out a sigh, her shoulders slumping.

"Fine," she muttered, her voice defeated. "I won't go hiking alone anymore."

"Thank you. I'm your dad, it's my job to make sure you're okay."

She met his gaze, the unspoken understanding passing between them. Despite the strained conversation, Beth knew that her father's intentions were rooted in love and concern. The next day at lunch when she'd made an effort to go in, the conversation took a turn of interest for Beth.

"I saw a bear while I was walking my dog," Angela said, her eyes wide with excitement.

Ben raised a skeptical eyebrow, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose . "Are you sure it was a bear and not just a really big dog?"

Angela playfully nudged him. "Seriously, guys, it's been all over the news and everyone's talking about it," Angela said, her eyes wide with the memory of the encounter. "I never thought I'd see one up close like that."

Beth listened to their conversation, her thoughts drifting as she contemplated the connections between humans and the wild creatures that roamed the woods. Was it really the bears that prompted that request from her dad? It hadn't actually been a punishment at all, she realized...

Bella's voice drew her back into the present. "My dad mentioned something about bear sightings yesterday too. Apparently, some hikers were making a big deal out of it. Went down to the station to see what could be done because it was so close to the trail."

A morbid thought ran through Beth's mind then, that perhaps the bear population had increased with the local vegetarian vampire population in decline. It would make sense, and it nearly made her chuckle. Beth's gaze shifted to the table, her thoughts wandering. In a strange way, she felt a kinship with the animals—both finding solace in the woods, seeking a place of refuge from the outside world. Except, the wild animals were in their natural habitat, not escaping. And then that thought led to how much Beth wished she'd been reincarnated into a bear. It was getting a little loopy in her thoughts with how lonely she'd forced herself to become.

"Yeah, I overheard them too," she finally added in, quietly. It was the most she'd said to anyone - including her sister- in over the past two months. And a pang of sadness struck her, how lost had she become? She needed to find a way to reconnect with her family and friends, to bridge the growing gap between herself and the people who cared about her. In the back of her mind, the idea of finding a job resurfaced. It would give her a purpose, a reason to interact with others beyond the confines of her own thoughts.

There was a beat of silence at the table before Mike chimed in with an awkward chuckle. "People always love to sensationalize things. It's probably just one or two bears minding their own business and accidentally walking too near to a trail."

Beth listened to their conversation, her thoughts wandering. She felt detached from their discussion, her mind a haze of conflicting emotions. As Angela continued to share her story, Beth's gaze shifted to her sister, Bella, who sat across from her, wondering why - if she'd been so worried about her- she hadn't come and spoken to her of her own accord yet. Was she still as angry as she was before?

After a while, Beth pushed her untouched food around her plate, lost in her own world once again. Her job search had been slow, and the looming uncertainty of her future added to her growing sense of isolation. She knew she needed to find a way to bridge the gap between herself and her family, to let them back into her world. But for now, she remained a silent observer, taking in the conversations around her, searching for a way to reconnect while still holding onto the fragments of solitude that brought her comfort.