Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene | Rosalie Hale

Chapter 1

Morgan POV

July 23, 2005

I looked out the window of my mother's small '99 Ford Taurus. It was a birthday present from my father. My mother cherished that car. We could never have afforded a second one. I knew the truth, though. My dad had only bought the car because he was cheating on my mother. I had found out a few months prior, and my dad made many empty promises to me to help keep his affair quiet. I was fourteen and had been burdened with a secret that could tear my family apart.

The secret eventually did come to light, two years later. My father slipped up during an argument and it all just came tumbling out. My mother devastated, took me and our few belongings and stormed out of the house. We moved from place to place for a year. It was hard keeping up with school when all I could focus on was my mother.

My dad kept bothering us both and trying to bring me back home. He would send flowers and notes to my mother at her small receptionist job. He would come to my school and try to get me to come back home with him. My mother had finally had enough that she decided to quit her job and move us both up to her childhood town, Forks.

That's where we were headed now. We had been sitting in silence for the nearly four-hour drive from Astoria, Oregon. She had planned to move back in with her father, Garfield Browne. My grandfather was a very quiet person. I honestly didn't know much about him, except I had always teased him about his name. I would call him Garfield the cat and he would respond that he always liked Odie the dog better.

My grandmother was who I was always closer to. My grandparents were native to the Quiluete tribe just on the coast by Forks. They moved to Forks so he could build her a house in her dream spot. She would always sit down and tell me old Quiluete stories. She was sweet and was the best cook any of us knew. My grandfather stopped contacting us when my grandmother died several years back. I was thirteen when she passed, and that's when I suspected that my father was cheating. My mother had fallen into a depression state. It was so bad that she would be out of it for days or even weeks. She would forget to pick me up from school or get so drunk she would not remember anything from the night before. I resented both my parents for their behavior and yet still felt guilty for it because I knew they were trying their best. Everyone just makes mistakes, right?

My mother abruptly stops at the red light above us both and I jolt forward. "Sorry."

I hum and look back outside. I forgot how foggy and dark it was in this town. I did admit that it wasn't much different from my hometown of Astoria and yet I still felt like something was off about the small town. It looked just like how I remembered it. The town was still suffocated in trees and fog. The old diner was still filled to the brim with the townspeople. Newton's Olympic Outfitters was still here. The windy road up to my grandfather's house was still keeping me in fear that my mother's reckless driving would kill us both. Just like I remembered.

My grandfather's house was a two-story cabin with a wraparound porch. I was in the middle of the forest with no neighbors. The birds were chirping and the sound of deep laughter could be heard from the porch. I step out of the car to see Garfield waiting on the porch playing cards with his friends, Charlie Swan, Billy Black, and Harry Clearwater. He was a little older than them but he had my mother young so things worked out I guess. Their kids, Bella and Jacob, were talking by some trees in the distance. I grabbed my two bags and guitar from the back of the car and go to grab my mother's bag when I heard someone shout out to me.

"Morgan, dear, just let Jake get those." My grandfather says before getting up from his chair on the porch and walking down to me and my mother. He looks just as I remembered. Long, dark hair. My grandmother used to braid it for him but now he wears it down. His russet skin is wrinkled and sun damaged but his huge smile makes it endearing. I have been told all my life that me and my mom are his spitting image. Except for my eyes. My eyes are green like my father and my grandfather pointed it out every time we saw each other.