Disclaimer: All character rights to Stephanie Meyer. However, this story is all my own.
Enjoy(:
This is the story of how I died.
I know, I know. You probably get that a lot. Everyone wants their story told, I know. But this is no ordinary story. This is the story about how I, a regular person with a regular life, got mixed up in a world most people never even think about. With a single decision, I sealed my fate.
See, the thing is, I knew I was going to die. Not just around the time I died, but a whole year before it happened. And it started with the strange, out of breath man who ran into my book shop asking for help.
He was the start of it all. Edward was his name and he is the reason I'm dead now. He ran into my shop asking for help, from me. Little me helping this man? I didn't even know what I could do. I didn't even know if I wanted to help him, with his disheveled clothes and the way he kept looking around him as if he were being followed. But there was something in his eyes, something that made me believe that I could trust him.
So that was it. I was going to help him.
You know, sometimes, I would sit and think and wonder if he knew it would take a whole year to help him. A whole year of my life gone, to a stranger. I also used to think and wonder if I still would have helped him. Would I help a complete stranger if I knew it would take an entire year? Oh, but he didn't just take a year, did he? It was because of him that I died. He took the rest of my life.
"I'll help you. What do you need?" I said to him.
Then he started to tell me things. And it's a good thing my shop was empty. I mean, he told me things that I wouldn't dream up in a thousand years, but here I was, listening to him go on and on.
And so with that one decision, I was swept up into his world of danger, of rage, of make-believe. Make-believe… huh… at least that's what I thought at the time.
And after he told me everything, I just stood there staring at him. One person offered to help him and he spews the whole story? That's when I knew I was going to die. If this man was so eager to tell his story to the first person to offer help, then I mustn't have been the first person who he asked. I was just the first person to listen. Maybe the first person dumb enough to listen.
So that's it. That's why I want to tell this story because long after I'm forgotten about, I want the details of this story to live on. I want people to know what really happened because believe me, it's going to happen again. Maybe not now, maybe not for a hundred years, but they will strike again. And when they do, you'll need this guide.
You'll need to know the story of how I died.
