Disclaimer: all of these characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. :) I'm just borrowing them for a bit.
Author's note: So, this is my first FanFic, a story that's been hanging around in my head for a while. I hope you like it. :D Also, this isn't all human, but it's no Vampires. More or less, it's what might've happened if vampires didn't exist. And I took some liberties with other aspects of the plot. Some vamps you're familiar with will show up later, fully human. :)
"Isabellllllllaaaaaaaaa! I know this is hard for you, and I promise we can talk and you can mope later, but could you please come and help your father and I unpack now? There's still a bunch of stuff in the van!"
"Sorry, Mom! Coming!" I yelled back down the stairs at her, but I couldn't help scowling to myself. I love her, I really do, and my Dad, they're great, but they get on my nerves sometimes. Can't I have just five seconds to myself? Well, kay, it's been more than five seconds, and alright, I get it, we do need to get all the stuff into the house. But really, I wasn't even moping! I was actually admiring this room. My room. I hadn't expected to like it here. I mean, it's not like I'm really leaving all that much behind, but as a rule, I don't like change. That's why I hadn't expected to like this house, this room. But somehow, I do. The house is beautiful, and well, this room-the one I picked as soon as we first set foot in the house- feels right somehow. It feels like it suits me. Lame as it sounds, this room has a "pull" for me.
The sound of impatient grunting from downstairs as my Dad dragged another heavy box into our new house broke me out of my reverie, and I dashed out the door of my new room, shutting it behind me, and pounding down the stairs. I nearly crashed into Renee at the foot of the stairs.
"goodness Bella, you can make an entrance, can't you! There's still quite a bit of stuff left in the moving van - go out there, the guys will help you find something you can carry, just bring it in and put it where the label says."
I couldn't help but roll my eyes at that. It was classic Renee "I know Mom, this isn't the first time we've moved."
It was drizzling a bit when I went outside, but I didn't really mind. Somehow, bizarrely, I really didn't understand it, but I welcomed this place, this city, everything about it. The bustling metropolitan downtown we'd driven through, and now this quiet older section of the city, the wide street with beautiful trees - quite unlike those I was used to. And, when I turned away from the van, having picked up a not-too-heavy-box that said "family room", I looked at the house, and I welcomed it, too. It was a beautiful old house. White, two stories high, and wooden, not the brick of most of the neighboring ones. It was timeless, well kept, but also very old. Charlie had said it had been built for an upper-middle-class man and his family around the turn of the century.
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"So Bells, how're you liking Chicago? Listen hon, I'm sorry we had to leave Arizona, and you know you can always talk to me and your Mom about anything, right?" Charlie asked that night at dinner - an unusually long speech for him - it was usually Renee who did the talking. They both looked at me sympathetically, holding hands on top of the table.
It was our first night in the new Chicago house, and we were sitting around the battered wooden dining table, one of the only things we'd unpacked, eating delivery pizza. The things they were saying made me feel kind of bad. I'd kicked up too much of a fuss about this move, when I probably should have been grateful. When our lease ended on the house in Phoenix, and the owner didn't want to renew it, Mom had decided it was time to move, and the choices had been here( Mom- she thought there would be good job opportunities here, and she hated small towns), and Forks, Washington(Dad- it was where he grew up). At the time, that had been the only thing I'd been happy about - that it was here, and not Forks. But that all seemed silly now. Sitting here, in this kitchen, felt right, for reasons I couldn't even explain to myself.
"It's all right mom, really. I'm sorry I was so whiny before, I actually think I'm going to like it here. And the best thing is, it's only the beginning of July- I've got the whole summer to make friends and get used to Chicago before I start my junior year." Mom looked surprised - but pleased, at this little cheerful, but, I realized, truthful, speech. I decided to leave, though, before we could get into any more sentimental conversation. Like Charlie, I'm not that big on talking about how I feel. "I'm going to go and look around the top floor before bed, 'kay Mom?"
"Alright sweetie, but don't be too long, I want to get this house in order tomorrow!"
"I won't, Mom, just a few minutes, then I'll have a quick shower and go to bed."
After giving Charlie a quick hug, and Renee a peck on the cheek, I climbed slowly up the wide staircase with its honey-coloured wooden railings, coming out in the middle of the top floor. It was arranged in a sort of a square, with the stairs in the middle, and a hallway all around. I started with the room on the far left - mine. I looked in at the blank, sunshine-yellow walls(that was good, it was a nice colour, I wouldn't even have to paint), and the boxes on the floor, the beautiful little window seat, the door to the spacious closet, and the one for my personal bathroom(I smiled at the thought). I closed that door, and continued down the hall.
Next to me was what would be the guest room, then a linen closet, then my parents' room, and their bathroom. I'd thought that would be the end of my little tour, as the sign that was still in the lawn said "three bedrooms"- but there was another door.
It looked the same as the others, except for the handle. While the other hardware had been replaced, it looked like, somewhere along the house's long life, with modern, shiny doorknobs that had built in push locks, this looked like it was still the original. It was differently shaped than a normal doorknob- smaller, not spherical, and a dull brown-grey colour. It was rough, worn metal, not smooth and shiny like the others. There was also an old-fashioned keyhole below it. I turned it eagerly, intrigued as to what lay beyond this unexpected door, but it wouldn't move. I jiggled it several times, but it wouldn't budge. Must be locked.
"Dad!" I heard myself calling as I ran down the stairs, while wondering why I cared. "Dad, what's that extra room beyond yours and Mom's? The one with old-fashioned handle? The one that's locked?"
"Extra door, Bella? What extra door? Oh, wait, I think the agent might have said something about that" he added absent-mindedly "Yeah, apparently it was locked ever since the house was sold, after the first owners left. No one's ever been able to open it."
"But why, haven't they tried a locksmith?"
"I don't know, Bells", he sighed, "But does it really matter? It's not that big, you can tell from the outside of the house. But don't bother looking,", he said, seeing my feet move towards the front door, "Those shutters have always been locked." He still seemed to think I looked too curious, because he added "Really, hon, it's probably nothing. Go get some sleep, okay?"
"Right, Dad. 'Night!" I mumbled, while secretly vowing to myself that, sometime this summer, I would solve the mystery of that door.
I got ready for bed distractedly, still puzzled by the door, and unable to see why I was so interested in the first place. I blew up an air mattress, unrolling my seldom-used sleeping bag on top. I'd had the same furniture since I was about five, and, probably to make me more open to the idea of moving, Charlie and Renee had promised me an all-new bedroom set when we got here, so for the next few nights I'd be on the floor.
I filled a glass with water from the sink in my bathroom and set it beside my bed, then turned out the light, called a goodnight to Charlie and Renee, and slipped into my sleeping bag. I stared out the window, thinking about that door again, until I finally fell asleep.
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When I awoke, it was abrupt. It was also the middle of the night. I blinked a couple times, my eyes adjusting to the darkness, then registered what I was seeing. There was someone sitting in my window seat. A boy, about my age, I would guess, but it was hard to tell, he had his back to me. He was dressed strangely, in very old-fashioned clothes, and his hair was a striking, reddish-brown colour, and smoothed back in a style that brought to mind images of soldiers from the First World War. These weren't the only odd things about the boy, though. He had a very odd quality to him. Dream-like, sort of fuzzy at the edges. It was what stopped me from being scared, because I was pretty sure he wasn't real.
He interrupted my staring then, turning towards me. With a half-smile on his lips, he got up, turned and walked out my door. Without thinking, I got out of bed and followed him into the hall. He walked the length of the upstairs, until he got to the door at the very end. The one that wouldn't open. He turned to look at me again, grinning, and walked through the door.
I stumbled the few steps to the door, and rattled the handle, but it was still as locked as ever. I stood there for what seemed like ages, until tiredness got the best of me, and I walked back to my room, crawling into bed.
As I drifted off again, - had I ever actually been awake? - one thought swam to the forefront of my mind. I had to get into that room.
Thank you for reading the first installment of my first fanfic!! I'll try to have more chapters soon, I have four written, but I need to type them. Also, if you reviewed, I would love it. :D
