Please, give this story a chance!!!!!This isn't exactly one of my best chapters (in other words, it sucks) but please bear through it, the rest of the chapters aren't as bad. It's because I gave third person a try and, apparently I'm no good at it. If I ever have time I'll redo this whole chapter to first-person. Please read!!!!!!!

Chapter 1

Eliza felt her way through to the room, touching the walls warily. Her fingers glid over the closed doors until a certain one in particular, she knew of was felt. Once her scrawny fingers felt the old, rustic door her slow stride stopped.

Without thinking, she clenched her hands into a tiny fist, and lightly knocked against the door. Little did she know, until the knocks lengthened, that her heart was excessively heavy.

Fortunately, relief spread, gracefully, through her body when the sound of her brother's deep breathing grew louder.

But at the same time, the powerful wisp of wind whipped over her small body. Its vigorous strength was as sharp as a knife, slicing through her bare feet and hands. She tried embracing it, as she had been attempting for the last three hours. But it was too strong. In the end, she wound up knocking on the door again, but somewhat louder.

Finally, the deep breathing ended with a grunt, and sluggish footsteps were heard. The door opened, with a brief squeal, and there appeared her brother. Hopefully.

"Lizzie?" he asked her sleepily. "What is it? Why aren't you asleep?"

Shivering, she asked, "Can I sleep with you, J-J-Jasper?"

Jasper certainly didn't expect to see her here-not to mention, at this time of night. As far as he knew, this was especially unlike Lizzie to do.

But then, on the other hand, he didn't know her much of her at all. Through most of her life, he had been away recruiting and positioning soldiers in the war. Perhaps, she did always need some company at night. She was still young, wasn't she? He couldn't remember her exact age, except that it was somewhere around ten. She was hitting that mark where, she wouldn't be considered a child anymore, he knew that much. He, on the other hand, never had that problem, when he was around her age.

But, she was a different person. And a girl. In his mind, it all made more since at that theory.

"Alright," he answered her drowsily. He was still very tired. And, he would need to be getting up early, and leaving at the stroke of dawn. It had only been a day of his visit back home with his family. Of course, the one-day visit had been awfully important one to his family. Especially his parents. Although, his biological mother had died many years ago, he still considered Vivian his mother, whether or not they saw each other every so often or not. The last he visited, it was over five years ago. Lizzie could reach his knees in height. Father had just married Vivian. And, he was leaving in the beginning of a new life. But the life he chose was also new, but dangerous. And, all the while rewarding.

He stepped aside, inviting her in. Her expression didn't change, he noticed. It stayed the same, illegible. It took him a while to process through the understanding of her disability. Immediately, he took her hand and led her inside the room and away from the chilling hallway.

He was surprised, by how how cold her small hand was, as it inclined unevenly with his. It made him wonder how long she had been outside his door.

"Did you have a bad dream?" he asked, out of curiosity, as Lizzie got into bed.

"No," she answered gloomily, as if she wished that were the case.

He looked at her. "Then why would you want to sleep with me, then?" he asked, getting on his side of the bed.

Once under the warm covers (his step-mother was grateful enough to let him borrow) he turned to her, awaiting an answer. She stayed under the covers, her back to him. Automatically, she replied, "I was cold." her voice carried the same conversational tone; there was no sign of shyness, horror, or dishonesty. "I didn't have a bed to sleep in, and thought you might let me sleep with you," she finished.

She didn't have a bed? "What do you mean?" he asked, now suspicious of what she just said. That couldn't be true, he first thought. His parents would've provided Lizzie with some kind of hospitality. She had a room-a bed, didn't she?

"Franny has my room," she answered. "And since she has my room I have to sleep on the couch. But it was too cold, so I hoped you would let me sleep with you. . .I'm sorry." she told me, then explained. "I probably should've looked for blankets and maybe if I did I wouldn't have had to bother you."

"Why couldn't Franny take the couch instead?" he questioned, having his mind stuck on his step-sister taking his little sister's room. He knew the room the two of them were in was his step-sister's, Franny's, room. But what he didn't understand was how she could take his little sister's room from her and make her sleep on the couch instead. Why couldn't she take the couch? It would've been more appropriate. She was about his age, she should know better.

"I don't know," she sighed. "Vivian made the arrangements. She told me what to do."

Vivian? That didn't sound right, especially for Vivian. Jasper always saw his step-mother as a kind, generous woman, similar to his deceased mother. What was she doing kicking the youngest of the family out of her room, to make room for her older daughter? That didn't make any since.

"Are you telling me the truth?" he asked, his voice now serious. He never appreciated liars, and if by chance his little sister was one, that would be most unaccepted.

For a while it was quiet. Jasper waited, as she turned over and faced him with grave eyes. "Yes," she answered clearly. She kept her head on the pillow, her eyes on what was in front of her.

The silence lengthened. It stretched out to the point where Jasper was quiet for one last second, before laying down in the bed. Soon later, he shifted his body making her wonder if his was back to her.

Several long minutes later, Eliza couldn't help, but whisper, "Jasper?"

He grunted.

She asked. "Do you like me-as a sister. . .or at all?" shockingly, her voice was heavy with fright. The question had been burning her deeply with wonder.

Fortunately, Jasper didn't catch the tone of voice. Instead, he shifted his body again, this time facing her-hopefully.

"Of course." he answered brusquely. "I will always love you, you're my sister."

It felt good to be told that. Her heart filled warmly from the saying, something she never before felt, but took pleasure in. It calmed her nerves, something she thought could never be cured, despite time. It made her feel better. . .A lot better.

"Why?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I wondered. At least someone does."

"What do you mean?" he asked again in a serious tone of voice.

She took in a big breath, feeling a bit awkward talking to someone who actually cared about what she thought. "It seems like you're the only person who likes me," she told him generally. "No one else does."

"That's not true," he protested. "Father and Vivian like you." she could hear the anger arising in him.

She shook her head. "No-Papa doesn't. Neither does Vivian."

He sighed, irritated. "Tell me why you think that." he demanded, the amount of anger rushing though his tone.

"Well. . ." she trailed off, thinking.

When she, finally, did know how to answer what she took as an example was not said, but shown. She lifted her tiny fist to him, keeping it clenched. He took it in his hands, moving it slightly forward for some reason she did not know. (probably better view or something) She felt his rough fingers rub the fresh wounds along her knuckles. It stung, but Eliza was just about used to feeling hurt.

"Oh my god." she heard her brother gape. ". . .How did this happen?" he asked, keeping his voice down to a whisper. It was clear, he was in absolute shock of her wounds.

She looked away from the sound of his voice. When she answered, her voice was gloomy. "I broke the china. I dropped a load of them and Vivian punished me."

"When?"

"Last night."

"Where was I?" he asked, until, suddenly, remembering. " Oh yes," then he sighed. ". . .I went with Father to meet some of his friends." Silence took over for a short while. A brief moment, until Jasper asked, "What was Vivian thinking even letting you handle the china?"

Eliza sat up. "I had to clean the dishes, and since you were here it was a special occasion, so we used the china. After dinner, Vivian put all the plates in my arms, but I lost my balance and fell. . .Vivian got really mad after that. And because I broke all our good china she pulled out the ruler and punished me." Not only her knuckles, but her backside ached , as well, after going through a brutal amount of hits with a piece of wood.

It took him a while to process through all that she was telling him. To him, this was completely unexpected; being told most of his family were not who he thought they were; it sounded almost too horrific to believe, actually. And he would almost not believe his sister for this insane story of hers, if it not had been for the natural tone of voice she used throughout their their entire conversation, and the amount of evidence shown on her knuckles. If what she said was true about her punishment, something was of definite askew here. He wasn't sure what and why, but was determined to find out. But there was one thing he was sure was happening; and that was somebody was lying to him.

"Jasper?" Lizzie asked, laying her head back down on the pillow.

"Yes?"

"Are you really leaving tomorrow?" her voice trembled.

He gazed at her, facing her face to face. Then, after a moment of silence, he finally answered, "Yes. Yes, I am."

It was pure black inside the room, except for the dense moonlight coming in from the window to the left. It was as dark as it was silent. Lizzie, then, turned over, and started sniffling.

It's true, she thought. It's really true. Vivian really wasn't lying when she said he was leaving tomorrow-or to be exact this morning. The immediate tears ran down her cheeks endlessly. All she could really think of was him leaving-him leaving her. The only person who actually liked her, was going to be gone by the stroke of dawn, and she was going to be left here surrounded by people who didn't like her.

It isn't fair, she thought. It isn't fair!

"Shhhh," comforting voice soothed. A warm hand began patting her shoulder. "It's okay. It's okay." he calmed.

No, it wasn't! It wasn't!

Horrible, depressing noises were heard. It wasn't until she felt warm hands picking part of her up, that she realized the noises were coming from her.

"Shhh," he repeated in the same gentle tone. He held her close, as she sobbed continuously in his shoulder. He rubbed her back every minute or so, letting her sob as much as she wanted.

It went on like this for long time, it felt. Eliza was letting out all her sadness in him leaving tomorrow, and Jasper was doing his best to calm her down.

It wasn't until the flow of tears stopped, that he realized she was, finally, asleep. And it wasn't long before, sleep won him over, as well.

Authors Note: Pretty bad, huh? Sorry it's so long-I just wanted to get to the important parts down, and move on next to the present time. (which will be happening in the next chapter, by the way) And, also I'll change the point of view to first person. (Third person, I can see, isn't doing me any good) Anyway, I hope you're enjoying the story so far, and read the next chapter. Tell me what you think so far, please. I'm open to constructive criticism and flames in this story.

Sneak Peak:

"Good. Very good, my dear, Elizabeth," he congratulated. "Now, I have one last job for you." he told me with a grin.

I growled, irritated.

"I am sorry to inform you," Aro explained. "but this will be your most difficult task, yet." he drew near, handing me two pictures. "I want you to bring me back these two-alive."

The first picture showed, mainly, a teenage boy. It was clear to see he was a vampire. He had the white skin, the common color of eyes my kind had, and dark brown hair. The second picture showed a young woman, also a vampire. She had jet-black hair, and the aspect of a pixie.