The psychic Mary Alice Brandon's diaries!

I woke up in a weird place. It looked like a small street from where I lay. I didn't know. I just felt a type of fire in my throat. I thought it was thirst, very strong thirst.

I didn't remember anything at all. Not even my name.

I sat up and looked around. It weren't a street. It was like a little room; a cell. But how did I get here?

I was afraid to rise up. I didn't feel dizzy or anything, I just had the feeling that I would fall backward. But I tried, and I didn't fall. I decided to try to get out of this weird cell. In the moment I decided that, I got a vision where I actually did it. That was weird.

I did what I had decided to do anyway. The feeling of déjà vu was so strong that I nearly became dizzy.

The door was, to my relief, really open. Outside it was dark. Night, I supposed; only five people in the streets at all. They stood several yards apart from each other, but still I had a feeling that they were together. They all had their eyes on me. Even from this distance, I saw that their eyes had the same caramel colour. It was three men and two women. One of the men was blonde. He looked like the oldest and the most experienced of them.

The second man had black, curled hair. He had most muscles of them all. He was big and a type of scary.

The third man looked like the youngest of them. Around 17 years old, but still very wise and experienced.

One of the women was more beautiful than any other person I've ever met (though I didn't remember anything, and though every one of them was inhumanly beautiful). She had long, golden blonde hair and long, smooth legs. Any girl, who saw her, would have been jealous (including me).

The other woman was rounder than the others, but still very thin. Her hair was a light brown colour. Her face had a kind of heart shape. I didn't know why I thought so, but I felt that these people were dangerous, despite their beauty. But I felt that they were a type of killers.

The youngest man stepped forward.

"We're not the type of killers you think we are," he said in a voice that sounded like velvet.

But how could he know that I thought they were killers? Were they mindreaders?

"No, it's just me," he said.

"What is she wondering of, Edward?" the blonde man asked.

"She thinks we're killers, but not the kind of killers we really are. And she understood that I'm a mindreader out of what I said," Edward told him, "but I am surprised that she hasn't understood what she is herself."

"Of course she hasn't, Edward. She doesn't know anything about us. And you're the one who know that best," the beautiful woman said in a nearly angry voice. Her voice was as beautiful as everything else about her.

"That was not what I meant, Rosalie. She has a talent just like me."

"A talent?" I and Rosalie asked at the same time.

"Which talent does she have?" the big man asked impatiently.

Edward turned back to me, and now I saw his hair colour; it was a type of bronze. "Did you know that you're psychic?" he asked in a tone that sounded like he already knew the answer, "Did you know that your name is Mary Alice Brandon? Do you know what you've turned into? Do you know who turned you into what you are?"

"No, I don't know anything at all," I told them, and now I heard my voice clearly. But it didn't sound like me. It sounded like light velvet. Then I remembered something else Edward had said; "Mary Alice Brandon? Is that really my name? Do you know anything else about me?" I asked. I began to be curios.

"I understand that you're anxious to learn about yourself, but we have to talk somewhere else," the little woman told me.

And suddenly I felt that I knew everything. I felt that I was a vampire.

Then the sight ended. Suddenly. I don't understand it. Will I turn into a vampire? Vampires doesn't even exist.

Uh-oh. My little sister is coming. See ya.