Author's note: I must confess that I am a Twilight Virgin. Being that, I will first ask your forgiveness if I flesh out the characters in the wrong way. I hope I am not rubbing anyone the wrong way. That said, pleasepleaseplease leave a review... good or bad. I adore reviews. I can't live without them.
-
Note: In case you're wondering, this happens two days before Edward Cullen meets Isabella Swan.
Alaska is now a memory. Full of white and coldness, it really suited me well. Sometimes I wish that I would not have to leave. There is very little that I have to hide whenever we're in Alaska.
I glance over my shoulder. Rosalie, as usual, is looking at the mirror and tending to her blond curls. Emmet stares at her and the road alternately, his face breaks into a smile now and then. Jasper is looking at the passing scenery to his right, but really, nothing stays within his head, except for gratitude. Alice is tilting her head from left to right, then left again, as she stares at the headrest before her. Probably trying to see whether she will have a good class or a bad one. From the way her lips curve into a smile, it has to be good.
Everyone is full, satiated.
This will last probably until next month. Which is not bad at all. The catch has been a good one, and even Esme was happy with it. Carlisle has been nonchalant, though. It looks as if he has something in his mind.
I don't like to snoop around and poke into a mind, just because I can. Especially Carlisle's mind. It's like trying to peek into a parents' bedroom. After all, he is my parent, so to speak. He created me.
"Sunlight," Rosalie suddenly says, cutting off my reverie. I look skywards. True enough, the dark clouds hanging over us has broken up slightly and a few rays of sun shine through. We all lean back, trying to look as relaxed as possible. Avoiding sunlight has become a second nature, although there are no other cars on the road.
The dark clouds, however, gather again, and the sun is blotted out. There was a collective sigh, and we smile to each other - except for Jasper. Again, his thoughts are clouded over by emotions so dark and depressing that if I continued listening to him, it is enough to warrant me a trip to a shrink.
So I kick his left leg. (Alice, Jasper and I are sitting at the backseat, and he is in the middle.) His reactions are quick. (Aren't we all?) But mine is quicker. I grab his hand that is fast becoming a crooked talon, almost grazing my nose.
"You should really try compartmentalize," I say with a smile. "You know, put your thoughts in a box and store them away, that kind of thing."
Jasper tries to wriggle his wrist free, saying, "And you should stop believing what the mortals are saying." Somehow his fingers become closer, and he flicks at my nose. It was not painful, just irritating. I push his wrist away and give a snort. "They say a lot of things, but the world is never better from it." Jasper says as he looks at me, irritated, but there is a small note of thanks in his voice.
Alice watches us with the countenance of a confused yet happy child, as if watching us provides her with some sort of entertainment. Maybe she sees all that coming.
"All right, guys," Emmet says as he pulls over and parks at the school entrance. "Time to begin our punishments."
"That is getting so old," Alice chirps as she literally leaps out of the jeep. "By the way, Rosalie?"
"Yes? Do you have a prediction for me?" Rosalie asks in a tired voice. "Am I about to be run over by that Mike kid again?"
"No, no," Alice shakes her head, "but there will be a small accident and you..."
I stare at the school compound, ignoring Alice and Rosalie. How long has it been... three years? Four? I choose to forget. I spend my waking hours thinking about this, learning and learning, relearning, forgetting and learning again. It is a strange thing, being awake to a world that is sleeping. Stranger still to exist in a world that doesn't know we exist... or maybe the world simply refuses to acknowledge our existence.
Yet here we are, standing amidst the entirely clueless throng of children who are turning into grown men and women. If I willed it, all two hundred students here will die in less than an hour.
My hands are balled into a pair of fists. I close my eyes, breathe slowly, and open them, only to be slapped at the back by Emmet's strong palm. But his eyes are concerned.
"You okay?" he asks in a whisper. Rosalie stares at me and Emmet's concern is mirrored in her eyes, too.
I try to give them a smile and a nod. "Let's get going," I say, and walk toward the school.
-
Children are the same everywhere. In arriving at their class, they would rather crawl than run. It is, however, a complete opposite with recess.
We, however, would meet in the main hallway first, then take our sweet time walking down the corridors leading toward the cafeteria. The food - I mean, the children, are having a ball eating, gossiping, leering and creating their own clicks. The nerds trying to look cool, the cool trying to be superior, the girls preen and flirt. It's a normal highschool recess.
We sit in the corner that faces a group of tall trees, for obvious reasons. It serves three purposes: we are away from the crowd, the crowd does not realise we are watching them, and the sun would never give us away should the clouds suddenly break apart.
Emmet and Jasper are talking about the next baseball game, while Rosalie and Alice are discussing her predictions. I, on the other hand, observe the crowd... and hear their thoughts. It is not a hobby. An action becomes a hobby when you do it to gain peace of mind. I do it because it sometimes provides me with a little amusement.
However, today there is little amusement to be found. They are all caught up by the sudden quiz the entire school had just been given. Some complain, others simply try to push the matter aside, and the rest decide that it is trivial. Only a small percentage are actually happy because they did well. I bet Angela Weber is one of them.
Still, though, I feel rather restless. There is another voice here. Darker.
Stronger.
Older.
I stand up. "I gotta go to the bathroom," I say as I walk away.
Alice is the one who realises that I am not going to the bathroom. What is it?
Something's strange. I don't know why, but there is something strange here.
Should I tell the others?
Not now. But don't worry, I won't be long.
I leave the cafeteria and turn right to the football field. It is drizzling,cloudy and cold. I don't feel all those things anymore. I break into a jog (which is really a run if seen by mortals) and feel that I am getting closer. Closer.
Under the bleachers!
I run toward the bleachers. The structure is located at the far end of the field, and I get there in no time at all. The drizzle is fast becoming a heavy rain, and judging from the way the dark clouds rolling towards the school, it can get ugly.
I shout over the rain: "Who are you!"
It is more an announcement than a warning. The voice in my head stops suddenly. From within the darkness of the bleachers a shadow moves. Rising, moving toward me. Then the shadow steps into the rain.
A young man stands before me, maybe 16 or 17 years old. His hair is wet, plastered to his head, but even wet I can see that he has curly hair. The face was unlined, young, handsome, even. But this is a facade, I tell myself, a mask.
"Well, you found me," he says under the rain. "Can't an old man die in peace?"
It is then I notice that in his right hand he has an army knife, easily seven inches long, and on other hand, a bottle that smells like gasoline. He is not wearing a coat but only a long-sleeved shirt. On his left arm are several deep gashes that is bleeding badly.
"I wanted to kill myself," he continues with a somewhat distracted smile on his face, "but even the weather tries to stop me..."
Then it hits me.
He is a vampire. Like me.
"And you," he says, as he sways in the rain that is becoming increasingly torrential, "you are in the way."
"Who are you?" I ask as gently as I can muster under the loud rain. I dare not make a move toward the protective bleachers; he may mistake it for an offensive move. "Are you – are you alone?"
"I am no longer alone now," he says. Under the limp daylight, his eyes neither glow red nor brown. They are simply black. Lifeless. Then the eyes disappear as he hangs his head low.
That's actually an oxymoron, since he is technically dead, anyway.
I hold out my hands in a calming stance. "Look, I mean you no harm. I heard you –"
"Heard me?" His head comes up suddenly, his face a sudden flash of white from within the shadowy cover of the bleachers. "What do you mean, heard me? How?"
Shall I tell him that his dark thoughts are much, much louder than Jasper's? Will he be offended, anyway? "Your suicidal thoughts distract me to no end," I say slowly.
"What are you, a mind reader?" he asks yet again, as if he has not heard me. Seeing no other way escaping it, I nod my head. He sighs and shakes his head slowly. Then he retreats into the shadows again. I can barely make him out within the shadows. I decide then to follow him...
But I meet the sharp point of the knife, barely touching my chest. I shook my head.
"You know very well that there is no point of that," I say to him.
"I know," he says with an estranged smile. "But I feel like doing it."
"What's stopping you, then?" I ask, as my whole body immediately braces itself for action.
That somehow makes him think his action over and over. "Leave me," he says finally, pointing the knife away from me and turning his back to me. I , on the other hand, decides to pursue my former query.
"Are you alone?"
"Of course I am alone!" he suddenly turns and screams at me. "I have nobody! What part of the fact that you don't understand?!"
I simply stare back, my lips a grim set of line. "Vampires usually live with at least one or two others. What happened to your coven?"
"I don't have one," he says simply. "Now, can I at least have a dignified death?
Not until you answer all of my questions, I say to myself. "Why are you so desperate to die?"
The rain has become a drizzle again, slower this time. This time I can see the guy properly as the sun shines pallidly in the overcast sky. His eyes, though black, are brimming with emotions. The left eyebrow must have been partially torn due to some old (ancient?) incident, leaving the left eyebrow slashed into two unequal parts. His cheeks are hollow and his chin is pointed and sharpened by the hunger, but with little imagination, I can see a rather handsome person – once properly fed.
"How long has it been since you last fed?" I ask conversationally as I lean against the bleachers. He looks at me as if I have just offered to castrate him.
"A long time. Enough to kill the entire school," he said, matter-of-factly.
"But you won't. Why?"
I hear the knife falls onto the concrete with a clatter. I turn to him, and he to me.
"You can know the answers," he began. "But you will make a promise to me."
Somehow I know what the promise will be. But I let him spell it out himself.
I nod my agreement.
With a wide smile, he says: "You must kill me."
-
-
To be continued.
