Chapter one
So this was it. This was how it was supposed to end. The way it had been planned right from the start. The two of us, killer and victim. Final victim. Victim number six.
For a brief moment we said nothing. We simply stared into each other's eyes. What were we looking for? A reprieve from death? An explanation? Forgiveness?
But what can a victim say to change a murderer's mind? What argument is strong enough to stop a killing machine?
And why should a murderer try to explain why it was necessary to kill five – soon to be six – people? For forgiveness?
Do you need forgiveness when you've committed the perfect crime, or is that only for those who will get caught?
This murderer would not get caught…
There were seven of us when we started out.
Someone – I think it was Edward – said that seven was a magic number. That magicians – real magicians like Merlin, the wizard, not the ones who pull rabbits out of hats – had always believed it was a powerful number. One that protected from harm. Pfft. Some magic.
But then, we didn't stay seven for long. One by one the group grew smaller. And finally there were only two of us.
Two is not a magical number. When one of the two is a murderer.
But in the beginning there were seven. Six were long-standing members of the elite 'in' group of Forks High. True aristocrats, as high school royalty goes.
And then there was me.
I was the newcomer. The one who wanted to be a part of the inner circle. To sit at the special table in the school cafeteria. To be envied because I ran around with the football heroes and the best-looking and most popular girls on campus.
And so I was one of the seven, the special, selected seven, that made the trip to Eclipse Island.
I paid a high price to become one of that group. I would live to regret it. But at the time, I thought it was a price well worth paying.
I was wrong.
I was dead wrong.
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