I was always alone.
... And I will always be alone.
That was what I thought before he and I met.
The thought still hasn't changed even after he and I met.
"We have a new transfer student. Please welcome him with open arms."
"My name is Edward Cullen. Glad to meet you."
Normal was what I thought he would be the first time I saw him, more or less. I stared out the window at that time, only seeing the silhouette of the transfer student reflected on the dark window. The silhouette was smudged by the rain that would never stop.
"Please sit an empty sit near the window."
I think the teacher's lecture was like background music. The sound of the rain was louder, trampling over the teacher's voice ever so gently.
I didn't know at that time that he sat next to me in every class we had together. It took me a while to realize that simple fact. It wasn't very surprising since the first time we talked to each other was after a month after he and his family moved in and the day another transfer student came.
I used to listen to music all the time. Most of them didn't have lyrics. I would sometimes make up lyrics to fit the song, very occasional though.
If I recall correctly, I sat next to the table Cullens sat in. I didn't purposely observe but I think they thought I was watching them with a purpose. When I rethink about that time, I wasn't very close to them. Well, technically speaking, I wasn't close to anyone. Even the relationship between him and I was a step away from each other.
The day we first talked to each other was a turning point in my life. A new discovery of the world that I do not want to know. Before the incident that turned my life, I had a chat with my mother in the kitchen table.
My house was like any other house. If anything was particular, except the things we mostly used, like the kitchen, the bathroom, and the rooms me and Irina used, nothing else was touched. There were no pictures hanging on the wall. The plastic on the sofa wasn't removed. The television was never turned on. Irina and I were bound together by the name of 'family' but I never felt the affection or the aloofness. Irina tried to be friendlier in the past. Trying to be more optimistic most of the time. I think she got tired of acting that way when I told her on the tenth birthday not to act anymore.
My family might sound dull, but that does not mean that I am not depressed. I enjoy the way I live. Just because there are no conversations between Irina and I doesn't necessarily mean that we are not close. Irina fulfills her duty as a parent to me and I respond correctly, more or less. She understands that I have a hard time understanding the reason to express my emotions and thoughts to others. As time passed, we gradually adapted to the stillness that formed around us.
"I feel bored, Irina."
"Life isn't always so exciting."
This is my mother, Irina. Irena means peace in Russian. She was originally Korean, but changed her name when she met my father. My father died before I was born. Irina doesn't like to talk about him but I heard the rumors. He was murdered the day before my birthday. Tragic? Not really
"There was a new transfer student today."
"Did you get along?"
"Not really. I didn't see her face."
"A girl?"
"Yes, I think. She seemed shy and almost tripped when she was walking toward her desk."
"Did she get hurt?"
"She didn't but she was really red and attention catching."
"Oh, really? She must be the Mr. Swan's daughter then. I heard that she moved into town yesterday or so to live with her father."
Irina seems agitated today. Silence is what fits us the most. If she is this talkative today, then it must be the day before my birthday.
"Irina. It's today isn't it?"
Irina's shoulder stiffened. The sound of her preparing dinner could no longer be heard. Her husband's death occurred on that very day. It was funny for some reason. That the day the transfer student came was the day a man was murdered. I don't really care whether or not my biological father was murdered before the day I was born. I'm just glad that Irina no longer cries in front of me. That kind of situation is hard to handle.
"I'm going out."
"Be back before 10 o'clock."
Avoiding the situation will give the impression that I am running away. I cannot disagree with that. I am running away from Irina's tears. In a time like this, I would take a hike.
I told you that I lack the skill of showing emotions, inside and out. But everybody has a hobby and mine was hiking without a goal and a road. Walking and taking pictures for hours and hours. I often got lost because of this habit but soon got used to it.
Maybe my bizarre preference was the reason why we were brought together, Edward Cullen and I. I will not call the meeting of the two of us fate. It was more of a coincidental meeting. A meeting no one cares, more or less. I didn't for sure. I wouldn't care if this damned life was just a lie.
Who would have thought that an instinctive animal, even though humans are partly rational, would walk straight into a hunting ground of vampires? Guess I lack instincts.
"This is... something."
"Who are you?"
"Just a passerby. Enjoy whatever you were doing."
I did say to enjoy but what they were doing didn't seem so enjoyable. There was a twitching body of a mountain lion lying on the ground. The lion looked drenched; the outlines of the muscles could be seen. It looked like a large amount of blood had been sucked out. I took a picture of that unconsciously. I realized my action after he broke my Nikon D5200 with his bare hand, crushing the lens and ultimately the memory. I looked down upon his pale hands with bits of my camera's ruins stuck to it.
"You owe me a camera. This was my birthday present."
"I just spared your life. I think that is more priceless than a mere camera."
"I value my camera over my life. If you are going to kill me, can you kill me two days away from now?"
"Why should I?"
"My biological father died today. Two days from now is the day after my birthday. I think my mother deserves a day of happiness in between the despairs."
His eyes softened a bit after hearing my story. I didn't tell him my situation to earn sympathy. I mean what I say. My mother does deserve a day of happiness.
"What's your name?"
"Edward Cullen. You don't seem to be scared of me."
"Should I be?"
"Normal humans are scared of the unknown and death. You don't seem to be scared of any of them."
"I'm scared. But that doesn't mean that I have to show my emotions to you."
"You're lying. I can read others pretty well and you really are not scared of me."
"Am I really not scared of you? How can you be so sure? Are you really reading me or are you just looking at the outer skin? Don't mess with people, Cullen."
"You really are an unusual human. It's surprising how calm you are."
"And you're not even a human at all. What are you?"
"I don't have the obligation to tell you what I am."
"I can tell you are not human. I have an evidence right in front of my eyes. You still owe me a camera."
"I'll give a new one for your birthday. See you at school."
"Fine, but you have to give me the same model. I liked this one."
Then, he just disappeared. Out of my sight, just like that. I didn't even see him move but he must have gotten away so quickly that I couldn't follow him with naked human eyes.
I walked slowly back home. Since he broke my camera into shatters, I let the remains hanging on my neck and enjoyed the scenery. Since I can't take pictures, I better should let the scenes soak into my mind, so that I could always remember this scene.
I later realized that the only scene that bore into my mind was the scene of the blood sucked animal that Edward Cullen preyed on.
The day he talked back to me was a week after the incident. The day I asked him to kill me, if he had to, passed without trouble.
To be honest, I forgot that he owed me a camera. I forgot probably because I didn't see him for a whole week. I tend to forget if the object isn't in front of my eyes. Out of sight, out of mind. My birthday present this year was a tattoo on my back. Despite how I described Irina, she loves exotic materials. She says it is like a photo permanently drawn on my back. The tattooist drew me a set of black wings on my back last week. Irina commented that it made me look like an angel. I never told her that this birthday present might become the last one she will give to me.