I flipped the pages of my textbook back and forth, toying with the idea that had played across my mind for so long. Could I really pull it off tonight? I thought out the details as the teacher droned on. When the bell rang, interrupting my plans was when I made my decision. Tonight and no exceptions. I had taken too long already.
I walked into the cafeteria, subjecting myself to the daily torment of finding a table to sit at. I hadn't exactly made too many friends, being a poor foster child and all (getting in fights doesn't usually help either), so I ostracized myself to an empty table. Sometimes when the food wasn't good, I would sit outside on the front steps. Today the pizza was passable, so I entered the line and paid my two dollars.
No one noticed me anymore as I paused at the edge of the tables. I took a deep breath and plunged forward, into the pool of sharks. I glared at a small group of freshman about to sit down at a table. You have other friends, I thought. Go sit with them. They left reluctantly, muttering the whole time. I rolled my eyes.
After lunch, I endured my other classes. Life was boring, but I was about to shake things up. I'd always been the loner, but now, maybe I could find someplace new, fit in and get a job. When the last bell rang, I grabbed my backpack and flew outside. I caught the bus home, thankful it hadn't left without me like it sometimes did. When it dropped me off a block from my house, I unlocked the door with the spare key, and walked inside the house. No one home. Soon it would be empty again.
I ran to my foster parent's bedroom. Little did they know I had discovered their secret money stash hidden underneath their worn bed frame years ago. I'd never needed it until now. I grabbed out a few twenty dollar bills and stuffed them in my pocket. I then unloaded my backpack, dumping everything in the trash. I wouldn't need it anymore unless I was caught, and that was not an option. I'd go to jail first. Couldn't be that bad, or that different. I threw a change of clothes inside, along with a pair of my favorite sweats, a few undergarments, and a large hooded sweatshirt. I even added a few of the books I had collected over the years. A toothbrush later I shut the door behind me. Then, without looking back, I was gone.
I slipped past the elegant women and the professional businessmen, my backpack close to my chest. I was leaving. For good. Why I had stayed as long as I had, I would never know. I shivered in the cold wind, which was whistling eerily, and blowing my long, blonde hair into my face. I brushed it out of my way as I continued on. A light snow began to fall though it was now late March. Unbelievable.
Easing to the edges of town, I spotted an old rundown motel. I sighed, but it was probably my best option, and the light was beginning to fade. I walked inside, brushing the snow off of me, to the woman at the desk, who was popping a piece of gum while reading Cosmo.
"I'd like a room for one. Two nights," I told her, trying to act like I owned the place, but my tone sounded more like I was asking a question. I had no idea of the protocol used in securing a hotel room. She looked me up and down, and smirked, obviously unimpressed by me.
"One left. Must be your lucky day, "she slurred. I stared her down, waiting for the cost and the room key. After reluctantly parting with one hundred dollars of the money I had taken, I went back outside to find my room. By now it was dark, and I could scarcely see. All of the lamp posts I saw had no light bulbs in them. Even the moon was absent, hidden behind the clouds that cloaked the spooky night. My room was around the other side of the building, and in the back, where a group of trees played shadows on the ground. Perfect. Every object I saw became a demonic figure, waiting to steal me away as I walked to the back. I shuddered and followed the sign leading to rooms 21-26. My room was number 26, at the far end. Could this get any more horror movie?
As I walked up to it, I saw a man in the shadows. When I tried to play it off as my imagination, it didn't work. Apparently, the horror movie was only starting. He was still there. He was very good looking, though in a strange way. Almost too attractive. His pale white skin glowed eerily in the moonlight, and I felt a sudden wave of fear. I tried to shake it off; perhaps he didn't mean any harm. From the brilliant light of the now present moon I could see his irises were a dark color. Black as coal. When I realized how close I must be to see his eyes, I took a step back. While I attempted to slip past him, he grabbed my arm with a painful wrench and I gasped at the freezing temperature of his skin, which caused me to drop my backpack.
"What a perfect meal. Your blood is pumping so hard now." He gave me a full smile, which chilled me to my core. What had I gotten myself into? I couldn't look away from him, couldn't run. "Are you afraid?" the man asked in a sadistic voice, full of sarcasm.
Normally, I would have replied with a sassy comment but now I couldn't move. I was frozen with fear, quite literally, if his cold skin was any indication. He bent his face down to my neck and for one second I thought he was going to kiss me. I wanted to scream, to punch him and get the hell out, but I just couldn't move. Then his lips brushed my skin, and I felt his mouth open. What the hell was happening? A scream finally built up in my diaphragm. Then he growled, (growled?), and knocked me away with the back of his hand. I flew away from him and into the motel. The strength that propelled me was like a bulldozer, strength that was no way human, unless I was much, much weaker than I had thought.
My head cracked on the dirty walls and I saw a blinding flash of stars. My eyes rolled back in my head. When I could see straight again, what I saw was another man approaching me, while yet another began to attack my assailant. Had I walked into a gang fight? Or something worse? I moaned softly, feeling the pain begin to register. When he spoke, his voice sounded far away. I struggled to understand what he was saying. It might be important and it might save me.
"You'll be alright. I promise. I can help you." Those were the most comforting words I had ever heard. No one had ever promised me anything, much less my safety. His voice was like liquid gold, warm and gentle, and flowing. "What is your name?" he asked. My eyes inched upward toward his face.
Though I could barely see in the darkness, his beauty astounded me. He looked like an angel, or your classic god; a thousand times better looking than any of the 'top rated' boys at my school, even with his face twisted in pain, and…perplexity? In fact, that might have even enhanced his beauty. I wondered why he was helping me, and whether I was truly safe. But nothing that beautiful could hurt me, right? I knew that didn't make sense, but I was nearing unconsciousness. He knelt beside me, and supported my back with his hand. His touch felt like silk and granite; the strangest combination. I wrote it off as my imagination once again. With the little strength I had left, I answered him. Who would dare refuse a god like him? Especially one that had saved your life. And perhaps something more.
"Rosalie…Spicer". Even my name, which I had known for my entire sixteen years was hard to remember right now.
"Rosalie." My name rolled off his tongue like he was tasting it; it had never sounded so exotic and I wanted to hear it again. "My name is Emmett." Emmett. Even his name was god-like. Emmett, I remembered, meant strength when coming from its roots. It fit him perfectly. He was like a rock I was clinging to in a storm. "I'm going to take care of you." I could smell gasoline, and saw a sudden burst of flames. Before I could respond, and tell him that I could take care of myself, I passed out.