Prologue

If anyone had asked Kristina Jackson how she hoped to die ahead of time, she'd have definitely snapped out a few biting retorts at them.

First, of course, Kristina would be extremely tempted to beat the shit out of (and shake some sense) into whatever sick bastard-or bitch-asked that kind of question in the first place. What kind of conversation lead to asking that question, anyway? "Hey, nice to meet you, how are you, isn't the weather great-so, how are you planning to die? Personally, I hope I die by torture. I'm a masochist, you see!" Unless that person hung around around walking corpses or just loved talking about that kind of thing (in which case, she'd bash their merry heads in until-hopefully-they'd regain a sense of normality), it didn't strike Kristina as being a normal (or even non-psychotic) conversational gambit.

But even so, if someone had asked-and there was no way she was gonna tell them that maybe, just maybe they might have something wrong with them to think that an appropiate topic for chit-chat. Yes, she knew she was a rude bitch, but even she wouldn't do that. Might set them off and make them all trigger-happy. She valued her life, thank you very much-Kristina would probably admit to wanting to die at a ripe old age after she'd lived a fulfilled life, surrounded by loving children and grand-children determined to make something of themselves. And probably her secret stash of porn located somewhere under her bed, too. Any husband of hers would most likely have already died and had heart attack because of the kids she'd pop out. Nasty little things, they'd be. Crafty too.

Kristina really hadn't expected to start pushing it at the ripe old age of seventeen, and all because of one small, itsy bity decision to relocate to the moist, constantly cloudy Forks, one horrible mistake in attracting a dang good-looking-as well as possibly insane-immortal bloodrinker and one wrong step that lead her to being kidnapped by a vampire dead set on killing her with a habit of juggling really sharp things that honestly made her want to wet her panties.

"For the love of fucking God,"she hissed out. "I'm going to die young, and as a damn virgin, at that! I'm probably not even going to leave behind an intact corpse."

And with a flourish, the hunter smiled at her, sharp teeth gleaming as he gestured with almost reptilian grace at the blades in his hands.

"Don't worry, darling,"he murmured. "I promise to leave at least your face intact, just so when that coven finds you, your mate will see your face, forever frozen in fear and terror, so he'll always have the memory of your terrified face burned into his mind, and knowing he couldn't do anything to save you."

And with a final flourish, he stalked forward with a smile and malice in his heart and cutting blades gripped expertly.

Sofeyrose: So...comments? Any questions? Helpful tips or advise? All are welcomed, because I'm actually quite nervous. That is my first time writing a Twilight fanfic (and I'm quite anti-Twilight, in case you didn't know), and I don't want to end up making a mary-sue. Heaven forbid the day I make an OC that's a mary-sue *shivers*.