While most girls had their weddings planned by the time they were fifteen, I was different. I mean, yes I had my wedding arranged and ready to go with images and tips on Pinterest boards—outdoor wedding with a French Riviera theme—but that's not all I had planned. My grandpa died when I was eleven. He had a great life—saved his friend's life on a crashing B-17 in WWII—but his funeral was so sad. I had never seen my grandma and dad cry so much. That afternoon I decided to plan my funeral, but instead of having a traditional funera, I would have a celebration of life. The décor and coffin would encompass colors and designs I loved—black and red roses with white calla lilies and a black coffin with gold filigree—with activities I enjoyed—awkward, embarrassing karaoke for sure—and memories everywhere. Even with this in mind, I never thought about how I would die.
I knew one thing, though. It wasn't going to be like this.
James was an immortal. He was faster, stronger, and more violent than I could ever be. He was indestructible. Exactly like the other vampires I had met.
Vampires weren't what I thought they would be. The myths and legends running through generations were wrong. These creatures were all indestructible. NO stake through the heart could kill them. From what the Cullens explained, only nuclear warfare could destroy vampires. Along with every living thing in a thousand mile radius. A human could not kill one.
But I wasn't going to be killed by one.
His Marble-like hand was clasped around my throat, but he wasn't squeezing. Just holding me still. This threat was enough to make me start crying. This taunted him more. His garnet-red eyes bore into my, jutting fear into my soul. He growled, low and deep in his throat.
I stopped crying.