I am really excited about this story; it's been running through my head all week. This is obviously an alternate universe fic. Bella still lives with her mom, so she doesn't know the Cullens, and doesn't know anything about vampires.

I stared down at the mangled body in horror. The man had been fairly large. He was tall, with medium sized muscles banding under the skin of his arms and legs. His pale blond hair contrasted with the golden skin common to the area. He was maybe in his mid twenties, and he looked athletic. Now he looked like a giant rag doll.

I had killed him.

My feet kicked out under me, sending me jumping away from the body, into the brick wall on the opposite side of the alley. The solid bricks crumbled beneath the pressure of my back, and tumbled in a fit of dust and pebbles to my feet. My body shook violently and my sobs ripped through chest.

What the hell was happening to me?

My trembling legs slid out from under me and I collapsed into a similar heap as the corpse only a few feet away. My lips were still wet with his thick blood and tingled with the memory of his pulse beating against my tongue.

I clamped my eyes closed, desperate to rid my mind of the messy sight, though I knew my attempts were in vain. The image was burned on my retinas and seemed to pierce straight through the sanity I was currently clinging to with my entire being. I would never forget this sight. What had I done?

His head was shattered, pieces of flesh and skull littering the cold ground of the alley. Lacerations covered his upper arms, everywhere I had touched. His legs were twisted in odd angles; a result of how I had dropped him from my arms after the beat of his heart had dulled to nothing. His throat had been completely ripped apart, without preamble. His clothes were in complete tatters. His pants had large gashes cutting sloppily through the material, and his shirt was reduced to scraps, barely staying on his wide chest.

Despite his numerous and deplorable injuries, he didn't bleed a drop. I had taken his blood from him without a second thought. I had even swallowed it. Drank it like some mythical beast. I killed a man.

I buried my head in my hands, curling into a tight fetal position, rocking back and forth like a character in some asylum movie. Why weren't any tears leaving my eyes? My fingers twisted around the roots of my hair and pulled sharply. Not a single strand moved. I frantically pulled my hands away, and held them out before me.

My hands were pale, much more so than normal, and my nails, once bitten to the quick, were now elegantly short. I extended my arms further, looking for anything that made sense right now. My arms had always been trim, like the rest of my body, but now there was a subtle crease of hinted muscle underneath. Another sob tore through my frame.

Had I died? Was I in hell? I felt like I was in hell. What had I done to earn such punishment? I was never one to "toot my own horn," but I thought I had been a reasonable daughter. I did my schoolwork, and though I didn't have friends, I don't think I was terrible to anyone by any stretch of the imagination. I was no hero or anything, but I wasn't a criminal either.

Was this a dream? Was I in the middle of some graphic, hauntingly real nightmare? No, I amended. I'm not this creative. My imagination could never produce such an image as the body before me. Definitely not a dream, but I still couldn't remember anything to put me in hell. This couldn't possible be real, could it?

I didn't understand what was happening. I remember a car crash. . . or at least what I assumed was a crash. I couldn't recall the impact itself. My mind raced and I took a few shuddering breaths.

Do I even know where I am?

Yes, I answered myself. I'm in Phoenix, Arizona.

Who am I?

My name is Isabella Marie Swan, I'm seventeen years old, and I live with my mother, Renee, and my step-dad, Phil.

So how did I get here now?

I saw flashes of myself talking to my mother. Groceries. I had taken her car and was on my way to the store, but I didn't make it. A black jeep had run a red light at an intersection, and headed straight for me. I could remember all of this, but it was as I was seeing my past through hazy goggles. Had the crash caused brain damage?

Maybe that was it. Maybe I was having hallucinations due to brain damage. But if I had such sever brain damage, would I be able to even come to that conclusion, or would I think this situation was completely natural? That thought brought me back to the man.

He was dead. There was a dead man about a foot and a half from me on the ground. He was dead because of me, because I had killed him. I was walking down the street, and suddenly I was drinking the blood of a full grown man out of his throat. Definitely not normal. Maybe brain damage is out.

I had never been so terrified in my life. I didn't understand anything that was going on, but out of nowhere, I'm crying in an alley in the middle of Phoenix next to the body of the man I brutally murdered all alone. I could barely think I was shaking so hard.

I had risen from unconsciousness only a few hours previous with a sheet over my head in a hospital. I knew what that was supposed to mean. I was no longer attached to the bulky machinery next to me, but it only took the pressure of my fingers to my neck to tell me I had no pulse. I was covered in a cold sweat, and my body was sore with an unfamiliar pain.

I was enveloped by so many sounds and smells that I had never experienced before. My sight was so sharp I could see every corner of the room, though the lights were off, and not a speck of light entered through any windows. I did the only thing I could think of doing.

I ran.

That's how I was here now. Soft footsteps made me lift my head form my hands, which were still shaking in pure terror. I made no move to leave the scene of my crime. Maybe it'd be safer if they locked me up. I knew at age seventeen for a murder so violent I'd be tried as an adult, and with the easy evidence of me sitting there next to the body, his blood splattered on my clothes, there was no reason not to find me guilty.

I couldn't believe this was the end to my life already. I'd rot in a jail cell for this. But still, I couldn't will myself to move. I didn't know what had made me kill that man, but whatever it was, would I be putting Renee and Phil in danger by going home?

The owner of the footsteps turned into the alley, and my wheezing breath caught in my throat.

It was a young boy, not even five feet tall. My first thought was that he looked like William Bouguereau's Cupidon. He was dressed richly, his suit impeccable. His dark brown hair fell down to his ears, framing his face. His full lips curled into a slight smile at the sight of me, then turned into a confused frown.

His wide eyes moved to the corpse beside me, then came back to me, curled into a ball, shaking on the ground. That's the first time I noticed it.

His eyes were a startling red. The same crimson of the poor dead man's blood stared back at me. Oh God, this was hell. I started sobbing again.

The boy took more steps into the alley, examining me closer. Was he not scared or surprised at all?

I looked back to him, waiting for him to scream, to run, to do anything. I was rewarded with a subtle rise of his sculpted brow, his gaze on me was curious. The beautiful boy spoke, and the melodic voice that filled the air was almost enough to bring me from my situation.

"Was this your first kill?" he asked. His voice wasn't soothing, but it wasn't condemning either, just honestly interested. I held back a shudder at how casual he was speaking of the situation, but nodded, unable to form any words.

"Are you alone?" I nodded again, the thought that I really was all alone made me want to cry. He seemed to almost expect my answer. His gaze locked with my eyes and held an authority that would be impossible to deny. "You will come with me." His words were so confident, as though he didn't have any doubt in the universe as to why a girl wouldn't just walk off with this strange boy with burgundy eyes.

He saw my hesitation and walked to me until he was only inches away. He bent down, putting himself at eye level. His next words were so chilling; a shiver ran up my spine too strong to hide.

"If you don't come with me, I will undoubtedly be sent to kill you in a few weeks anyways." He spoke so calmly, resolute. "You will kill more people out in the open like this if you don't come. As a matter of fact, with how much information you seem to know about your current situation, I might as well stay here. I'll have to kill you in the morning."

I stared back at him wide eyed, too shocked to move yet. He let out an exasperated sigh, and stood up, offering his hand to me. I gazed at it like it was alien.

"I can tell you what is happening to you. You will understand everything very soon." I saw no other alternative. I wasn't sure how I knew, but I held no reservation that he would indeed kill me in the morning if I decided not to leave with him.

I couldn't go back to my parents, they were in danger. I would only be arrested anyways, maybe put to death. This boy would kill me in the morning, for whatever reasons I didn't yet understand, and if for some reason I avoided that situation, I would kill more people and he would kill me in due time anyways.

I nodded slowly, and took his hand. I saw no other option. I could only hope that once he explained what was going on, I could return to my mother and beg for forgiveness for the worry I must be putting her through.

"Oh, and forgive me for my terrible manners. My name is Alec."


Haha, god I love that last line! Please review, I am absolutely dying to know what you think of this. It doesn't need to be constructive at all. If I get a "Hey, good start," or something, I'll be more than happy. Review, pleeeeeeeaaaase!