A/N : Chapter 1 of my new Twilight story! The idea came to me a couple of days ago, and I really hope it captures your attention! This chapter is slightly boring, I'm afraid, but nevertheless, enjoy!

I thirsted. My mouth burnt as I scanned the surrounding area, looking for the heat of anything, as it fled through the forest.

Nothing caught my eye, and I released myself from the crouch I had been holding, whilst cursing under my breath.

Still silent to anything that may be close, I wandered through the trees, hands rubbing the trunks as I slid towards the edge of the forest. Nothing stirred, and my heart dropped a little.

I was young, and inexperienced. My face gave the picture of a fresh 18 year old, ready to take on the world with her, *cough*, beauty and grace.

I, however, was 59 years young, after a change which turned my life around. My skin turned pale, my eyes dark, and my body, well, turned to 'stone'. I was indestructible, and it gave me confidence.

My name is Victoire Daincourt, and I have come to the conclusion, after little deliberation on my part, that I am a vampire.

I remember the face that turned me.

He had dark eyes, and floppy brown hair that outlined his face, and tickled his perfect jawline.

I had fallen hook, line and sinker for this beautiful man, but he had broken me, taken my soul and crushed it between his fingers, only to stick his bloody fangs - pardon the pun - into my neck.

He didn't drain me dry, for which I was thankful. Maybe he felt a little remorse as to what he had done, or maybe he just wanted more fun afterwards.

It did not matter which. He disappeared, and I began my life as a nomad, wandering across lands and swimming across seas, just to run from any population, to resist taking their lives.

I now live on animals; they do not sustain me for long, but I can control myself enough to travel through cities and villages, without taking the lives of the inhabitants on my conscience as well.

Years have passed, and nothing has changed. Only the small fact that I sparkle in sunlight - yes, I fricking sparkle in sunlight - has really hindered me in life.

I hate sparkling. Why!? Why is it necessary to sparkle!? I have to stick to the shadows, which, in reality, keeps me from the prying eyes that ask me why my skin is white, or why I can jump from building to building like flipping Spiderman.

I was pulled from my own thoughts by a rustling, not far to my left. I sank back down into the dry leaves that littered a root ridden floor, and waited for the said creature to show its head.

A pheasant popped out from the undergrowth, and stuck its head carelessly into an ants nest, unaware of its impending death.

I raced towards it, wrung its neck, and sank my teeth into its flesh, in less that a second. I let out an audible sigh of relief as the thick, warm blood cascaded down my throat and into my body, warming me inside out.

I dropped the carcass and kicked it aside, wiping my mouth on a nearby oak leaf. The leaf tasted nowhere near as nice as the pheasant did.

Now slightly better off in terms of thirst, I went back to cursing about my life, and keeping an ear out for any movement.

"Why me!? Why the blimmin' hell did it have to be me!?" I groaned, as I kicked some leaves from the path, in complete disregard for the silence I could easily manage.

It was then that I heard voices.

"Poor bird. Looked like all the life had been sucked out of it. I wonder what creature does that?"

I am ashamed to say that I panicked. I don't have fangs that stick out from my lips, or a cape, or the ability to transform into a bat - though that would be awesome - and therefore should not have been worried. But I was.

To any human I may meet, I simply resemble an 18 year old girl who needs to get a tan, sometimes with eyes that resembled a setting sun. This, however, never seemed to hide my 'guilt' very well.

Even when I had been human, if I had walked past a police officer in town or at the beach, I would instantly feel like I should be locked up for a crime that had never been committed. That was just the way I was.

And still am, as a matter of fact.

At the sound of the voices, I spun on the spot and leaped into the closest tree, sitting perfectly still and allowing the foliage to disguise me from the eyes of the ramblers.

A man and women appeared from further down the path, and continued to ponder over, presumably, my dead pheasant.

I really needed to work on being less conspicuous.