So, my inspiration is weird and scattered to say the least. My other stories are not abandoned, I promise! Enjoy!

Chapter 1

"Destiny is a name often given in retrospect to choices that had dramatic consequences." - J.K. Rowling

I'm alive today, not because of some "destiny," but from my own hard work and resourcefulness...which only rewords me with the sprinkling system going off along with the stupid fire alarm in my damn apartment.

Salvation comes in many forms. Who knew that mine arrived in the form of a little boy trying to scare me years ago.

My teachers called me disobedient. My parents, a brat. Me? I liked to think of myself as independent - larger than life, fierce, and strong. Unfortunately, my independent streak cost me many friends and earned me more than enough enemies.

I guess being in the middle of your parents during a long, drawn-out divorce had some benefits - I was so sure of myself I was convinced that nothing could touch me. Mind over matter, eh?

I did not like girls. Barbies and tea parties? Not my thing. ...And apparently boys do not respond well to girls beating them in races, competitions, etc. But seriously, what year is it? 1875? Last I checked we were living in the twenty-first century. Was it really so bad that I took great pride and pleasure in outrunning, outclimbing, out-EVERYTHING to boys?! Apparently, sexist fools.

Jacob Black was my arch nemicist, or at least the closest thing possible to my nine-year-old self. Stupid boy didn't take losing well. Well, neither did I, to be honest...but I never let myself lose...repeatedly. Our dads were close, and because of the freaking custody agreement, I had to spend every Christmas and summer with 'dear ol' Dad.' Naturally, being the anti-social weirdo that he is, I was forced to spend time with the Blacks whenever I visited Forks...seeing as they had become an adopted family via his strange man-crush on Billy Black. I mean, c'mon, Dad! Just admit that you like the guy and move in with him!

But I digress. Jacob and I didn't really see eye-to-eye. And in a (rather desperate) attempt to scare me, he brought me to the edge of the woods and described my imminent death. *insert eyeroll here* Admittedly, his freaking stories detailing the Cold Ones drinking their victims dry before the wolves torched their frozen bodies did stun the hell out of me. But leave me quaking in my boots, suddenly subservient to the little welp? Nope. Not really.

Let's just say that I was not amused, resorting to shoving his stupid ass into the cold December ocean. Luckily my puppy eyes and a trembling lip added nicely to my well placed wails and sniffilings of "But Daddy, Jake wouldn't stop scaring me with his freaky stories about the Cold Ones drinking my blood and killing me." Billy wasn't pleased with his son, and chose instead to comfort me via details about how to destroy the Cold Ones if I ever saw one as well as the general appearance of these vampire creatures.

Oh! And Jacob was forbidden to see me again during that Christmas Break, much to my delight! ...I truly was a vindictive child.

But now, nine years later, I silently thanked myself for acquiring this knowledge, since I now stared up into the blood red eyes of my attacker.

At age eighteen, I faced this red-eyed she-demon alone. Last year, following Mom's o.d. with her new husband, Phil, I fought the courts to allow me to stay in Phoenix. Since I already waitressed part time, the apartment was paid for, and I was, at the time, six months from turing eighteen, I managed to avoid moving in with my antisocial father in Washington. (Fishing in the rain just wasn't my thing.)

But now, with this creepy ass red-headed demoness leering down at me, my post-graduation parent-free plans were dashed.

"You have got to be shitting me," I muttered to myself as I backed into the kitchen.

She just smirked back.

"Vampire, right? A 'friend' told me some werewolf stories before. Looks like some of the tribal tales are true."

At that, she paused. "Children of the moon?" Her eyes darted around rapidly as she sniffed slightly.

As she turned and sniffed out the kitchen window, I grabbed the Lisol under the counter and the lighter near the stove.

"Whatever. I'll deal with them after my meal," red-head concluded, as she turned back towards me, but froze at the sight of what I held in my hands. But rather than seeming deterred, she laughed. Really? Couldn't anyone take me seriously? I'm about to torch her ass, and she just laughs at me.

"What are you gonna do? Disinfect yourself for me? Don't worry there, sweets. I can't catch anything you're carrying," she jeered at me, advancing rapidly.

My response? A simple "Fuck you, Bitchface" as I lit the spray extending toward her ugly ass face. And let me tell you. Watching a crazy vampiress engulfed in flames and then leaping out a window shrieking is most certainly rewording.

Too bad the fire alarm going off had to ruin it.

Again, thanks for reading. My motivation for writing is scattered and random to say the least. But this story just popped into my head (when I was in the shower, of all places). Actually, my image of the story (and general plot line to be honest) started at what will eventually be around Chapter 12 or so... Now this story is already fleshed out and planned. The next chapter is almost done as well. Shocker, right? I mean, really. Me? Updating regularly? haha ...I really need to stay dedicated to this stuff... Anyway, I hope you enjoyed. Jasper will be here soon, I promise! Please review and I'll post another chapter soon! :)