Isabella had to find out who her mother is survive in the deep end and live things get rough. Her friends killed. Everyone she loves dead. Or so she thinks.

"Why do you call me that?" "Because," he leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead, his nose pressed into her light hair as he inhaled deeply and stepped closer. "You smell like apples and snow." He grinned suddenly when he pulled away. "You're my Snow White." ~ {a Emmett Cullen story} {Twilight; 1}