The illusion of darkness engulfed me. To anyone else – anyone normal –the black would be consuming, but not to me. I could see each speck of dirt floating undisturbed through the air, joining its followers in the never ending circles and dances of the dust motes. I could see each crack and crevasse, each imperfection that speckled the cement walls; each insect that had claimed its home in the towers of boxes that I sat among.

I was hiding. Hiding from the noise of the excited chatter that buzzed though the air, from the thoughts and sounds that bounced around my head mocking me with their eternal annoyance. I was hiding from the world in the storage closet of a book store.

My publicist, Arleen, had forced me to make this final stop at the end of my signing tour in the small, overlooked town of Port Angeles, Washington. She had nagged me unyieldingly for the past few weeks only to have me agree in order to put a stop to her persistence. Arleen had assured me that it was going to be small, unlike the other ordeals. To say the least, she was incorrect. The small store had been packed to the brim with a tail of people leading out the door and circling the block. It was never ending.

It was not the humans that caused my frustration, truly, they are only doing what they know how to do. It is what they represent that has me on edge.

Not once while I was writing could I, nor did I, conceive that my books would be so sought after. It is absurd how the humans took to them, like a flock of sheep. It had merely been a way to pass time, to occupy myself during my limitless existence. It had been Esme's idea to publish my journals.

I truly did enjoy the process, though, and I do not regret any of it as I look back; it is just the fear that has me in edge. The danger of the situation. I fear everyday that one of my many readers will somehow find the link between me and my stories and discover the truth of the existence of vampires. My life and that of my family's would be over. It is for them that I cower. Even if I am ashamed to admit it, there is so much risk, more than the weak humans realise for despite my best efforts, I am not Carlisle, and some things are just too tempting.

These are the reasons I hide.

I was about to be discovered. I could hear Arleen's frazzled thoughts and quick gait heading in the direction of my closet. I exhaled deeply, sending the dust motes flying, as I stood quickly to take a more preferable position – leaning against the doorway –as I awaited her arrival. There was a quick rap on the door when she finally managed to weave her tiny form through the crowd. "Come on Edward, play time is over. It's time to go to work."

A beam of light cut through the darkness as I took in my last breath of untainted air and pushed though the door and into the crowd.

The applause and cheers that exploded through the shop were overwhelming. The crowd erupted with such force I was surprised that the glass panes of the windows did not shatter. I was taken aback and was debating whether or not to run back to my closet to hide once more. Instead I followed Arleen, who is only slightly taller than Alice, to the middle of the store where a table had been arranged.

They employees of the shop had set the table in my usual fashion. Posters and piles of my books had been displayed around the small, rectangular desk. In front of my chair, surrounded by the merchandise, was a fishbowl filled with bits of paper, and a bottle of water.

Arleen settled into a chair behind me as I sat down at the desk andfixed what I hoped to be a pleasant expression on my face. "Hello everyone," I said, making the cheers erupt again.

"I am so glad to be here in Port Angeles for the last stop of my tour. It is such an honour to be welcomed here, and I am grateful to you all. Now, it appears that you guys have already been busy filling my fish tank with questions for me. How does answering these and then signing your books sound to all of you?" I attempted to sound at least a little like my supposed age.

The applause continued as I reached into the glass bowl, pushing aside the unneeded water, and pulled out the first piece of delicate, white paper and read:

"Where did you come up with the idea for Dusk?"

This is the part I hate, the dangerous part. If I make a mistake in the way I answer its over, my secret is released. The only thing that I have in my favour is that this is a specific talent is that I, along with my family and others like us, have perfected, one that is hardwired into our minds: I must lie.

This is how every single signing proceeds: I entertain my followers by answering the same, inane, repetitive questions, only getting one or two people who think of something original to ask. I respond with safe, practiced answers and filter through the thoughts belonging to the densely packed crowd to see if anyone is catching on.

Today's event was no different from the rest; all was well. I was almost through with the question and answer session, which just left the signing. I dipped my hand into the glass bowl and pulled out the final, thin sheet of paper.

"What is the next book in the series going to be called?" the paper read.

I frowned at the small slip, confused.

"Well…umm… I have not actually," I began but was silenced by the sound of Arleen's chair grating on the ground behind me.

"That is one of the many topics the Edward will be discussing in the upcoming issue of People. Thank you for your question," she announced.

My mind froze momentarily. Two things came bursting to the front of my thoughts, the first being the comment about the next book in my series, mainly because there is no book. All of the diaries had been published to date, from my death to the more recent return to Forks. I had told this to Arleen many times but she, along with the rest of the world, continued to assure themselves that there must be more. Apparently they were not content with the last chapter of my existence: our return to Forks and the wolves. The problem was that I do not know how to proceed. I would have to discuss this with Arleen later.

The second thing that interrupted my thoughts was the mention of an interview of sorts. I had heard nothing of this interview and had been assured that this book signing was the last publicity stunt I would have to participate in for a while.

Anger built inside me, causing me to snap the pen I currently held in my hand, startling the young girl in front of me. Arleen and I would definitely be discussing this after the line dispersed.

* * *

Eventually the store was empty again, and the staff where busy closing for the day and returning the store to its regular layout. I smiled and said goodbye to the last teenager. I had managed to push aside my concerns enough for the rest of the day but they had boiled to the surface once again. I remained sitting at the desk for a few moments, perfectly still. I could hear my publicists pulse pick up as she anticipated what was going to happen. Fluidly, I rose to my feet to lean against the desk, facing her.

"Well that was quite enjoyable, wasn't it Edward?" Arleen started, "You did great!"

"Yes, it was. I was hoping for some clarification on a few points though," I replied.

"Shoot!"

"You know that there is not another book, right?"

"Oh don't worry, I knew you were just pulling my leg with all that nonsense, I know you've got another masterpiece in that brilliant, gorgeous head of yours," she said as she reached up to brush her hand across my hair. I flinched imperceptibly at the inappropriate thoughts that went through her mind.

I reached up to gently knock her hand away and took a step back, "I have not been writing, there is no…"

Arleen cut me off, "I know, honey, well discuss it later, I have to brief you about you interview tomorrow. I know I said that this would be the last thing but Robert Pattinson had to back out of the cover story at the last minute and they want you as their second choice."

We were walking to our cars now, Arleen had almost every inch of her skin covered to protect herself from the freezing wind, I didn't even have my coat done up, "I think that it would be a really good idea to do the interview and shoot, and I promise that it will be the last one for a while. I will even stop hounding you and give you time to reconsider publishing that fourth book."

I jumped at my chance to end all of this, I could feel the excitement boiling up inside me as I opened Arleen's car door. "All right, but this is the last one," I said after pretending to ponder the idea for a few moments.

"Where and when?" I asked her as her as her old engine roared to life.

"The People team will arrive at your house around nine tomorrow morning." She yelled to be heard around the engine, not knowing I could have heard her next word from over a mile away. "And, Edward, make sure your whole family is there! They want to interview all of you." With that her car shot out the alley where we had parked, leaving me behind with the snow that had just begun to fall, frozen with fear.