What if the roles of Edward and Bella were reversed to where Bella is the vampire and Edward, a human? Carlisle and Esme now being Bella's "parents" and Jasper, Alice, Rosalie, and Emmett being her siblings. With Charlie being Edward's father, etc., etc. Story still being told from Bella's point of view, with a few tweaks here and there. This is my first post and I hope you guys like it! Please review! Anything helps :)

I do not in any way own Twilight.

Part I: My Demise

Debussy was playing on my CD player again. I allow the soothing rhythms of Clair de Lune to pulsate throughout my skin and through my soulless vampire blood. Another morning in Forks, Washington. Forks is one of, if not the best place my family and I had moved to since I became part of the clan, even if it does entail going through yet another high school experience. The town is trodden with rain almost all of the time so I can enjoy climbing up the coastal Douglas Fir at my regular speed without eyebrows being raised from the simple people of Forks, who were sheltering themselves from the downpour. The hovering, heavy clouds grant me the freedom to run through the forests and wildflower fields near our home and make me feel alive, even though I am dead.

Flashing my eyes towards the ivory clock on my wall, I noted the time. 6:45 a.m. I could reach the school parking lot within three minutes with my Maybach Landaulet, I made my way to the closet to look for something to wear. Settling on a mint peplum knit suit and cream heels, I walked over to the ornate mirror in the corner of my room. It had been a gift from Esme and Carlisle, my adopted parents and the first two members of our clan. It stood seven feet tall, made of a vibrant, bold silver. Embedded with emeralds, filligree and stiff ruffels, I saw myself in it.

The suit complimented my pale skin and amber eyes. My slightly waved, raven hair rolled down a few inches past my shoulders. My body was cold, always so cold. It had been that way ever since Carlisle had bitten me to save me from the Spanish Influenza that had claimed my biological parents and was beginning to take over my body as well in 1918. In reality I was 107 years old, on the paper records at Forks High School, I was 17. After giving a thoughtless brush to my already groomed hair, I picked up the keys to my Maybach. I call her Mabel after Mabel Stark, a tiger trainer I had witnessed in the circus when I was a child. Mabel goes fast. Really fast.

Two minutes and forty two seconds. Not bad, Maybel. I patted the car on it's hood.

"Bella!" my sister Alice yelped while standing within only a few inches in front of me. Her eyes were bright with post-feeding delight and her pixie haircut clung softly to her cheeks. Dressed in a peach, cutie dress, she looked astounding.

"Alice, hey."

"Sorry everyone left so early this morning. I wanted to wait for you, but a few of us hadn't fed in a few days. I had some mountain lion. Your favorite!" She licked her sharp, white teeth.

"Don't worry about it." The bell rang obnoxiously.

"Catch you at lunch? Save you some meatloaf surprise," I winked.

"Oh, Bella!" she yipped with a grappling hug, then floated away to meet Jasper.

I let my keys fall in my purse and took a seat in the back of the classroom. Attempting to tune out the appalling thoughts of my male classmates regarding my physical appearance that day and who they wanted to take to the spring dance, I closed my eyes. I could smell the impending snow that would befall by this afternoon; crisp and fresh. Then smelled something not as wonderful. Or too wonderful. Something devastatingly sweet, but savory. A blood laden with a scent created for only my anxious, ravenous appetite. I opened my eyes to see a tall man with lean muscles, disheveled hair and deep, brown eyes looking right back at me. I stared helplessly into my demise.