SKIN DEEP
one | moving day

The rain hammered against the window which Imogen rested her head on. The vibrations from the speed the car was moving as well as the rockiness of the road, had her head bouncing off the glass before smashing back into it many times. But, her head was numb from both the repetitive head-bashing on the glass, and the coolness of its surface.

She found a certain comfort from being numb. It made her feel as though nothing could harm her because she was unable to feel any pain. But, Imogen had learnt at an early stage in her childhood, that the feeling of being numb wasn't permanent. 

Her parents - Evelyn and Thomas - both sat in the front of the car, and would occasionally glance back at their daughter, worried that any second she could just disappear. Of course she wouldn't, but they knew that Imogen wasn't happy with life and the new move and had threatened to jump out of the moving car many times. That's why they had placed the child-lock on both of the back doors.

Imogen had been silent for the full journey - plane and so far the whole car ride - but decided to grace her parents with a question she has asked many a times, "Loving parents of mine, why are you bothering with this move?"

Evelyn's eyes flickered to the rear-view mirror so that she could see her daughter without turning around. They had already come so far, no need to die in a car-crash. "We are moving for you, honey." Her voice was endearing, but Imogen ignored the tone in her mother's voice. Imogen's lip turned up into almost invisible snarl as best it could. She couldn't get out the full snarl due to the cannula which was inserted into her nostrils and runs less than an inch above the upper lip. 

"Couldn't you have just let me die in peace within the walls of my childhood home instead of moving half-way across the country to die in the cold?" Imogen wouldn't admit it to her parents, but the actual move didn't bother her too much. She was happy to die in the cold - it was favored over the humidity that they left in the dust. What she despised was that her parents were most likely doing what they always did - track down the most prestigious doctor they can find to try and save her. But, the doctors had always come to them in the past. 

Evelyn glanced at her husband before continuing to stare down the highway which led the way into Forks, the neighboring town to the La Push reservation. Her glance told many things to Thomas, the main one being that he must answer their stubborn daughter's question. "A doctor named Carlisle Cullen lives in Forks. He may be able to prolong your life."

Imogen huffed, blowing out hot breath onto the cold window, causing it to fog over and block her sight of the road. She lifted a finger and began to draw in the condensation, while also voicing her thoughts to her parents. "That's what you want, not me. I'm ready to die and the both of you need to start accepting that." Both opened their mouths to reply, but Imogen continued after sucking in a breath, "Instead of trying to stop my impending doom, why don't you just spend time with me and not obsess over finding a doctor to help a lost cause."

Evelyn and Thomas were left speechless, before Tom spoke with a quiet and almost cracked voice, "We can't accept it. You're our daughter. We see you slowly deteriorating everyday and to lose you would be our worst fear."

Imogen's finger left the glass and her eyes turned to her mother with malicious glint in her cold hazel eyes. "It's not your worst fear. It may be Thomas', but it's not yours."

Evelyn looked at her daughter again through the rear-view mirror, "You think that I don't fear losing you. You're my only child and I love you with all my heart. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you." Throughout the talk, they had already made the drive through Forks and were nearing the road to the direction their home resided. 

Imogen smirked. She hadn't been that close to her parents for many years. They were too obsessed with trying to buy her more life than to spend time with her. That's why when Imogen had the chance to torment them, she snatched it up. "No, Evelyn. Your worst fear is that I am and will always be your only child because you're infertile. I was your miracle baby that was handed to you by the Gods. It should have been impossible for you to have me. That's why there aren't other King's running around and why you won't let me slip through your fingers for a second." 

Evelyn stared at the road in-front of her, her knuckles white as she tightly gripped the steering wheel. She could snap at her daughter for many things, but that would only fuel the fire within her. So she stayed silent and continued the steady drive down the road.

Imogen behaved this way for three people: her mother, her father and whichever poor soul became her doctor. Other than that, Imogen didn't speak to anyone else and when she did she said things that would make them run in the other direction. No need for anyone to get close to her because she's going to die in the end anyway. But, wasn't everyone?

***

Her eyes shot open when the window was tapped on three times. Imogen had fallen asleep, her head resting on the glass and the feet tucked up to her body. Beside her sat her backpack containing a tank of oxygen which she was always hooked up to. Her eyelids fluttered a few times, trying to make sense of her surroundings. 

What caught her eye was the drawing in which she has made with her finger hours before. It resembled that of a wolf - the outline that is. She stared at it, not realizing that she had drawn a wolf silhouette, let alone anything tangible. Three knocks came at the window again which is when she slammed open the door and stumbled out, finally able to stretch her legs. 

"Why didn't you wake me?" Imogen asked in annoyance at having been left in the car by her parents.

Thomas sighed, noticing that his daughter's mood was no better than it had been before. "We carried all our bags in and put them away. We thought it best to let you sleep."

Imogen huffed and pulled the backpack over her shoulders, holding onto the straps with her cold hands. Her hands were always cold. "I could've helped. I'm not useless just because I'm dying."

Tom wanted to say how they knew that she wasn't useless, but Imogen was in a stubborn mood and would just keep throwing out comments to try and hurt them or rile them up. So instead, Thomas just said to his daughter, "Come on into the house." 

Imogen reluctantly trudged behind her father. She craned her neck to look at the surrounding trees which had to be hundreds of meters high. The house was surrounded by the daunting trees, the leaves and branches that stemmed off them creating a canopy blocking any sun that La Push may receive from the house.

They stepped through the doorway and into the warm and bright house, Thomas shutting the door behind them, but leaving it unlocked. Imogen clicked her tongue at the happy interior which made her want splatter blood on the walls. It was too bright, not matching her personality at all. Imogen made a snide comment, "You trying to bring a bit of light into my life?" But it was left unanswered as none of her parents heard her as her father had disappeared.

Imogen was about to drag herself up the stairs and find her room, but Evelyn called her from the other side of the house. "What?!" Imogen shouted in reply to her name. She didn't exactly want to go and see her mother's face at the moment. All she wanted was to go into her dark a dreary room and sleep like a vampire does during the day, and be completely dead to the world.

Evelyn didn't answer Imogen as she knew that her daughter would get annoyed at the silence that wasn't followed by a reply, and would storm over to find out what she wants. Albeit, she'd be in a slightly bad mood, but that's the norm for the King family. Imogen huffed and did exactly what Evelyn knew she would - storm into the kitchen. Imogen liked to think that she was hard to read - but it was quite the opposite.

Imogen snapped, "WHAT?!" But a shocked look covered her face, and a slight hint of embarrassment too. Especially because there were two very good-looking Native Americans stood in her kitchen, smirking and arms crossed over their broad chests. However, Imogen wouldn't show any weakness - apart from the obvious one - as long as she could help it, so she composed herself and removed any emotion from her face. She turned her eyes to her mother, staring vacantly into Evelyn's chocolate brown eyes, "What do you want?"

Evelyn looked at her daughter with a scolding gaze, crossing her arms in a way that signaled to Imogen that she wasn't pleased with her daughter's tone. But, to hell did Imogen care what her mother liked and didn't like. "I would like you to meet some very close friends whom, when I grew up, were like my family."

Imogen's eyes widened slightly and she let her gaze travel over the two muscular guys that stood with an amused looks on their faces - though one was more apparent than the other's (speaking about both the muscles and the amusement). Beside them was also a middle-aged man in a wheel-chair, whom Imogen hadn't noticed at first. 

She stared at the man who had a smile on his face, but if Imogen was in his situation, she certainly wouldn't be smiling. She barely smiles as it is now, but she couldn't even imagine being immobile for the majority of her life. She'd pick death at twenty over a full life in a wheel-chair any day. The man wheeled himself forward and held out his hand, to which Imogen felt obliged to hold out to shake. But, as soon as her hand was clasped in his, he pulled her into an awkward hug. Of course it was awkward - for Imogen anyway. She didn't know the man and she was also being weighed down by the oxygen tank in her backpack. 

The unnamed man let her go after a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity to Imogen due to the silent pain she suffered. When she was stood to her full height and appeared to be breathing normally, despite being drained from having the weight of the oxygen tank on her back for too long, the man introduced himself. "I'm Billy Black." 

Imogen nodded and glanced over at the boys that stood on the other side of the island in the middle of the kitchen. Billy Black noticed her gaze stray from him and answered her silent question, "The one with the kid with hair that would make a girl envious is my son, Jacob Black."

"Seriously? You couldn't come up with a better explanation?" Jacob said as though annoyed, but had a smile on his face.

Billy stared at his son's hair and shrugged, "Pretty much sums it up perfectly fine."

Jacob shrugged his shoulders, "You could have called it my manly mane."

Imogen snorted, diverting the attention back to her. She decided to say something then - she had to say something to the Black who was obviously younger than her, "Look at you being a big boy and using alliteration."

Evelyn gasped, "Imogen." She shrugged at her mother as though she couldn't help the remark coming out of her mouth. She may look weak due to the tubes feeding her oxygen, but she was a tough cookie.

While Evelyn was horrified that her daughter acted like she normally did, because could she really expect any different, the Blacks and the unnamed male chuckled at Imogen's remark. Even Jacob, the boy who had been the one the remark was aimed at, found it amusing.

Jacob walked forward and pulled his 'new family member' into a hug, a hug that wasn't as awkward and painful for Imogen as it had been with Billy. Jacob whispered in her ear, "I think I'm going to like having you around." 

As he stepped away, the young adult stepped forward and held his hand out to shake. Imogen was reluctant to place her small and dainty cold hand into his because she didn't want to be surprised by another hug, but all the male did was shake her hand. "My name is Sam Uley." He then glanced down at their hands and mentioned, "Your hand is very cold."

Imogen shrugged and hugged her hand to her chest once Sam let it go, "It's always cold." Sam nodded and stepped back to stand next to Jacob - whom he towered over by about half a foot. 

Imogen felt the weight of the tank in her backpack and looked at her mother, "I'm tired. I'll be upstairs in my room, sleeping." Evelyn nodded to her daughter, allowing her to escape, knowing that Imogen was in pain and very tired due to having stood for that long with the weight on her back, something she wouldn't admit to.

Walking as fast as she could without getting out of breath, Imogen made her way to her room. It was obvious which one was hers due to a piece of pottery hanging on the door with her name written into it. When she entered, she saw the double bed pushed up against the wall that faced the door, and her black quilt thrown on top. 

She placed the oxygen tank by the side of her bed and then threw back the covers and dived into them, eyes shutting and sleep taking over her. She would be safe and sound in her sleep, as the dream catcher that hung on the railing above her bed would catch bad dreams, and the wolf with honey brown eyes printed on the bottom of her quilt will stand guard during the night.