A/N: The "normal" (using the term loosely. They're not exactly normal people.) will show up in later chapters, I promise. This is just the beginning. But let me know what you think. This is the first time I've written Twilight fanfiction. It's new for me. Go easy.
DISCLAIMER: All characters, places, and concepts related to the canon Twilight books belongs to Stephenie Meyer. Everything else is mine.
Chapter One: Turning Point
I squinted my eyes in the bright sunlight, holding my hand to my forehead so that I could see down the street. The February heat rose in visible waves off the pavement as I stepped onto the cross walk. Summer weather was year round where I lived in Pinecrest, Florida, a suburb just outside Miami.
I crossed the road quickly, numbly. My life had become such a repetitive one lately that I had stopped thinking about the things that I did as individual actions. Instead, I tended to look at my day as a whole. One predictable motion that kept me both moving in one direction and stuck in a grey area at the same time. If I didn't look at each thing that I did separately, it was far less of a let down when I realized how boring I really was.
It's not that I was in a miserable point in my life. My parents had never been divorced. I wasn't in poverty or orphaned or homeless or anything exceptionally out of the ordinary. It was just that I was too ordinary. It may sound arrogant or pompous, but I had never felt quite right in the life that I led. I had always felt like I was destined for something more, something bigger.
Even now, as I walked to my little green Honda, my head wasn't completely in the game. It was whirling with fantasies, colorful, impossible lives swirling in my mind's eye. I plopped into the seat with a sigh, turning the key in my ignition, and brought back to Earth by the protest of my car's engine. I would never have the expensive, beautiful cars that the expensive, beautiful people drove through Miami.
I made my way home without much feeling, because I knew what awaited me there. My hand was on the door knob before I even realized I was actually home. I raised my eyebrows in slight surprise, even though it wasn't entirely unexpected.
"That you, Jo?" I heard my mother's voice shout from the kitchen.
"Yeah, mom." I rolled my eyes. Every one else was already home. Who else would it be?
"How was work?" she asked when I walked in and plopped down on a chair at the table.
I slowly, yet deliberately kicked my shoes off. "Good," I answered in a flat, automatic voice.
"Well, that's good." She smiled at me warmly before turning back to the stove.
I rolled my eyes again once she couldn't see me. Nothing would be more than 'good' for me.
After a few seconds of silence, I sighed quietly and stood. I began dragging myself up the stairs. As soon as my bedroom door closed behind me, I pivoted on the spot and fell backwards onto my bed. I lay, staring at my ceiling without really seeing it. I let my mind wander.
It's not that I was a particularly morbid person. I was simply bored. I was sick of being so unbearably average. It was always the same, day in and day out. I woke at seven, left for school at seven thirty, then left school for work. Lather, rinse, repeat.
I hadn't always been such a boring person. Only a few months ago, I had been completely content with the life I was leading. Had it really been such a short amount of time since I had become numb like this?
My sense of time was completely warped. It had seemed like years since I had truly been happy, really smiled. But I knew that it had been only last November that I had started working so much, and drifted away from my friends. That was only four months, but it felt like an ever-widening ocean, stretching behind me.
I had had a long day and, tired of my melodramatic thoughts, I drifted into a dreamless sleep.
When the next day dawned, the very air around me felt strange. It was like the world was holding its breath, waiting for something important to happen. I could feel the strange atmosphere around me. It was so tangible that it was almost visible. But, since I was so used to the monotony by now, I merely shrugged it off and got ready to leave for school.
My day went by normally enough. The only strange occurrence was when I tripped over my own feet halfway up the stairs on the way to English class, and my things flew in every direction. I cursed under my breath and began collecting them as swiftly as possible. Despite my efforts, I heard the late bell chime.
When I walked in the door three minutes late, every head turned in my direction.
"Ah, so nice of you to join us, Ms. Crosley," my teacher commented in a falsely kind voice. "We were just discussing the merits of punctuality as it pertains to military accuracy in 'Catch-22'. Care to shed any light on the topic?"
I sat down before speaking. "Well, Mr. Santos," I began, pulling my notebook out of my bag as I talked, "I would have to say that everyone, you know, trips up every once in a while. Sometimes being late is completely unavoidable." I knew what was coming, but I tried to make my case anyway.
"So, you are suggesting that people have the right to be late whenever they please?" he asked me, raising his eyebrows. "In the story, of course."
"Yeah. I guess so. Well, not whenever, but I think that if something comes up, it's not always easily avoided. Not every situation goes according to plan. Sometimes improvisation is required to cover up for tardiness. In the book, that is." I didn't really feel in the mood to argue when I was hurrying to class, but now, for some reason, I didn't really seem to care. It was like I knew I would never have to carry out whatever punishment he had in store for me. I was acting completely out of character and, for the first time in a while, I was actually pleased with myself.
"Detention, Joline," he said. "Although some situations are unavoidable, you need to learn to be on time to my class."
When I left school later that day and hurried home to change into my work clothes like usual, I was still contemplating what had happened. Why did I have this feeling? Why was I being so careless with the things that I said? It was like I had a reason to be excited for something. Like the atmosphere from early
this morning had never stopped. It had carried over with me, through the day. I hadn't felt the anticipation of a big event like this in a long time, and never had it been for something unknown. I had never felt quite like this before and, honestly, it scared the hell out of me.
Work passed by in a flash, and, it seemed, in no time, I was cleaning up the restaurant at the end of the night. When I had the closing shift, no one else was there besides my manager, who was always so busy in his office in the back that he didn't pay much attention to what I did. Usually, I enjoyed the silence, because it gave me the opportunity to be alone in my mind.
Tonight, the silence gave me the chills. I wasn't sure what it was about the empty space that gave me the creeps. I put the chairs onto the tables hastily, and swept the floor less thoroughly than I normally would have. I was in a hurry to get out. That much was clear.
I grabbed the bag out of the trash can and walked swiftly to the door to the alley in the back. It was my last chore of the night, and then I could retreat to the safety of my car. When I opened the door, though, my body reacted immediately.
I froze mid-step, every muscle in my body tensed, and my heart rate picked up. My eyes scanned the alleyway, taking in the sight before me. I could feel blood pounding in my ears, my breath coming faster. I knew that the strange feeling I had had inside had been coming from what was in this alley. All of that was instinct. A flicker of intuition that I should have listened to.
But what I saw when I scanned the space was nothing but a dumpster and an air conditioning unit. Nothing out of the ordinary. You're being ridiculously paranoid, I found myself thinking in a strange tone that was not my own. I tried to shake the feeling, tried to shrug it off.
I took one hesitant step outside, every muscle and nerve in my body screaming in protest. I dashed to the dumpster, flung the lid open, and launched the bag inside. I whirled around in one quick motion, began my sprint back for the door, when I saw him.
Standing in my way, leaning leisurely against the wall next to the door, was the most absurdly beautiful man I had ever seen. He had a smirk on his perfect face, his arms folded across his obviously muscled chest. I barely had the time to take in the odd, yet entrancing, pale color of his skin before I heard him laugh softly.
It wasn't the sort of laugh that you would expect out of some one who looked like he had just stepped off a runway. It was something that you may expect from a serial killer or a lunatic. It was menacing, dark, threatening. It made my blood run cold and my knees weaken all at the same time.
He won't hurt you, my mind told me in a calm, soothing voice. Go to him. You'll see. It was that same strange sound in my head. My body was literally shaking from the effort of keeping still, but I felt myself taking in involuntary step forward anyway.
"Hello, Joline Crosley," he said in a soft, musical voice. I felt myself take another step forward without thinking about it.
My heart was beating faster than it had before. "H-how do you know my name?" I stuttered out.
He smiled wider, flashing a set of perfect white teeth. I tensed even more. "Why, I always get to know my prey first," he said, as if it were obvious. "I find it makes the kill that much more satisfying."
Two words struck me. Prey and kill. Maybe he was a serial killer after all. He was only joking, my mind told me once again. Don't be so afraid.
I fought the urge to take another step, and, surprisingly, I won the battle. I saw a glint of frustration cross his face then. Go to him, my mind said again, more urgently this time. When I finally took another step forward, my thoughts took on their normal tone again and his face relaxed from its tense state.
He straightened from the wall, and began walking toward me. His movements were eerily graceful and fluid. "I must say, though, you weren't the most fun to follow. You should have spent your life on more interesting pursuits. So bad that it was cut short like this. But, who knows? Maybe you were meant to die this way, fated from the start."
The closer he got, the more that I lost my ability to speak.
"Do you believe in fate, Joline? Is it something that you've spent much time contemplating? You go about your routine each day, but have you ever stopped to think about the moment when everything could suddenly halt? When your life may turn?"
In fact, I had given more thought to that particular subject than most. I often dwelled on how much people wasted their lives.
"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" he asked mockingly, moving ever closer. He was directly in front of me now, his body only inches from my own. He reached one pale hand up and touched my face. The temperature of his skin shocked me. It was as if I had been touched by a corpse.
You see? my mind said in that strange, velvety voice. He means you no harm. But I knew it wasn't true. I knew somehow that the thought was not my own. Like it was being put there by someone who did mean me harm.
"You're smart for a human," he commented nonchalantly. "Most never get the chance to figure out that I'm putting the thoughts in their head. Bravo." The last remark was sarcastic.
"What do you mean 'for a human'?" I asked, finding my voice suddenly. He had surprised me enough that I could speak again.
"Surely you've noticed that I'm something more than man, Joline. Surely that conclusion has come to you." He spoke as if I were a very small child, as if he were far older than he appeared. "Now you've got it. I am much older than I appear."
I realized with a sudden jolt of horror that, not only could he put thoughts into my head, he could read my mind as well.
His smirk turned to a frustrated scowl in an instant. "I'm through playing games with you," he said suddenly. "Such a shame. You were such a pretty girl." He touched my face lightly once more before lowering his face to mine.
For one irrational moment, it looked as if he were going to kiss me. Then I realized his intentions. I gasped in shock as I felt a sharp pain at my neck, a sudden tearing of my throat. It wasn't simply two pricks, as I had expected when my intuition told me what he was. It felt as though he had sunk a full set of teeth into me.
"Joseph, we must go!" someone shouted suddenly. "They're here, Joseph! They've come for us!"
Before a second had passed, I was flung to the ground unceremoniously. He was gone. I felt weak and oddly cold, and I knew I was losing blood quickly. Before I could fully comprehend this, though, the pain began. Incredible, consuming pain flowed from the wound in my throat. I began to scream wildly, thrashing around on the pavement.
One word made its way to the front of my mind before I succumbed further to the fire: Vampire.