Chelsea: Prologue
Chelsea
Chapter 1: Prologue
A/N: I had such a fun time writing this prologue, so, readers, don't knock it until you've tried it. There's no Bella, no Edward, and no Jacob in this first chapter, it's simply giving a little bit of history on my OC. I haven't planned ALL of the rest of the story out, so they might show up, but I hope that you will give my story a try even without all the characters we know and love. Special, special thanks to Stephenie Meyer, for creating such a lovely world with so much room for creative writing. Thanks to the band Stefy, I was listening to their song, "Chelsea", when inspiration struck. And last, but not least, thanks to Amanda, aka BlueyGooz, my amazing beta, for editing. I know you will be one of the first to review, so a big hug for that. Also, the Chuck Taylor thing isn't that important, it's just a fun quirk for you Converse lovers who know a little bit about Chuck and his history. He pretty much invented the Converse All-Star, and I thought that was cool. So, now it sounds like I'm giving and acceptance speech! Without further adieu, enjoy!
Brown County, Indiana; 1925
Steph Taylor jumped and screamed with the rest of her team. They had just won another game. Some of the guys slapped her on the back or gave her one-armed hugs. Others grudgingly shook her hand, then walked away. Still others hung back, scowling. It wasn't fair. She was a girl, she shouldn't even be on the team, but it couldn't be denied that she was good. Following in the footsteps of her shoe-salesman All-Star brother Chuck, she played basketball with all her heart. He taught her all she knew, and instilled a love in her for both basketball and shoes. She loved the game, and was built for the game. At a willowy 5'11" she was at eye level with many of the guys on the team. The bubbly blonde with her tomboy nature and sarcastic sense of humor managed to steal enough hearts to get a spot on the team, with a little help from her bro's rising fame. She had a higher vertical than everyone on the team except for the captain, and if Brown County High were big enough to have a track team, she would probably be one of the stars of that too. She had helped win enough games that people had stopped being so sexist and just started being thankful for the winning streak. Steph waved at her parents and gave her boyfriend, Tommy Phelps, a hug. Unnoticed by the rejoicing team, a dark figure watched through the skylight of the gym.
Their next game was an away game, in a small town about 200 miles north of her school. Steph entered the immature male banter whole-heartedly the whole bus ride there. Still, some members of the team had a hard time accepting her, mostly the ones that didn't like being beaten by a girl. In those days, girls on sports teams were almost nonexistent. Some schools refused to play the Brown County team because of Steph, and they often received threatening notes telling them to kick her off the team. Coach stuck to his guns for Steph though. She was good, and winning mattered more to him than gender. They arrived late at night, their game was the next evening. The coach wanted to allow a lot of time to rest up and prepare for the game. Steph didn't believe in rest. The minute she got settled into her motel room, she laced up her light blue Converse sneakers and headed out for a run with Tommy.
Tommy Phelps was a wrestler, a bodybuilder, not a basketball player. He had a spot on the team mostly because the school was so small that if he didn't join the team, there wouldn't be a team. He was muscular, but not very fast, and frankly, not that good at basketball. Tommy only ran with Steph because he liked spending time with her. Once she got past the jogging stage and started actually running, Tommy couldn't keep up and she left him in the dust. Tonight was no different. It didn't take long for Steph to blow Tommy a kiss and increase her speed beyond what he could handle. He didn't bother trying to catch up with her. He knew she would be waiting for him back at the motel when he straggled in later, ready with a sweaty hug and a goodnight kiss. He settled into a slow rhythm, watching her run from behind until she disappeared from view.
Steph loved running. It felt good to feel the burn, to have that little bit of alone time. She loved Tommy, she really did, but he could get clingy. She dug muscular guys. The rest of the team was way too wiry for her. She grinned as she thought of him and picked up the pace a little more.
Up ahead in the path, a dark figure watched from the cover of a large oak tree. He sat perched in the branches, every sense on high alert. He could smell her coming, first the sour odor of sweat, then the wave of the sweet, sticky scent of her blood. It smelled pleasant, vaguely chocolate-y to the figure. He licked his cool, pale lips in anticipation. He could hear the liquid quickly pumping through her veins as she ran. Her breath came evenly, but heavier than normal. As she came closer he could smell the bitter tang of adrenaline mixed with the sweetness of her blood. Good. That would make it easier for him to stop. Of course, he was an old pro now. Working for the Volturi required discipline. They had been watching her for three years, since she was 14. They saw something in the girl. They could use her. And still, her footsteps pounded closer. She had no idea of her fate.
Steph was almost at the motel when he struck. He landed light as a feather in front of her; she had no time to scream before he began his messy work. First, there was a heart injection. Slow the rate of her heart, quiet it so it couldn't be detected by a human, but was still working. Another injection, to start the change. A numbing injection in her throat to prevent screaming, then a quick bite and sip at every major vein and artery. The final touch: a knife to the chest. Just as Tommy rounded the corner, the dark figure disappeared. Mission accomplished. Steph Taylor was dead, the victim of a psychopathic stabbing, just ask any human doctor. But to the supernatural world, her life was just beginning.
Steph felt like she was on fire. She couldn't think, she couldn't feel. She had no emotion, just the fire. Make the fire stop. She tried to scream, but she couldn't, her throat wouldn't work. The fire burned, raged. It seemed to never end. Then, slowly, it retreated and she began to feel the cold metal slab beneath her. Only, as time went on, it didn't feel as cold. She began to feel a thirst like one she had never felt before, a burning, crazy thirst. Her eyes snapped open to see the white of a sheet over her face. She ripped it off. She was in the morgue. She didn't know why, and at this point, she didn't care why. She leaped to a crouch on the table, then, her formerly blue eyes glowing red, she literally flew out the window of the basement morgue. She didn't feel the shatter of glass against her cool skin; she felt only a feral desire for blood. Human blood. She couldn't walk normally - every step was a jump higher than she could ever have accomplished as a human. She didn't get very far. There, outside the morgue, in the darkness that, to her eyes, was as clear as day, the dark figure waited. His grin glinted white in the dark.
"Welcome to forever, Stephenie. We've been waiting for you"
A/N: Hope you didn't mind the italics. It's not all going to be like that, don't worry. I would love to hear your feedback, of course! Review!
Bridget