Prologue: Chicago, 1922

Because I could not stop for Death
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality
- Emily Dickinson

"Keep the change, Tommy," I said to the cabbie, tossing the ten dollar bill into the front seat.

"Thanks! 'Ey, you workin' tomorrow night? I thought I might bring the wife by, I been tellin' her about ya," Tommy said.

I smiled warmly and his cheeks tinted pink. I chuckled at this, for the man was at least twice my age. "I sure am, go ahead and bring her by so I can tell her she knows how to pick 'em." Throwing Tommy a wink, I slid out of the backseat not waiting to see the blush on his cheeks deepen.

Even from the street, I could hear the commotion within the speakeasy, it sounded as though it were filled to near capacity. I sauntered down the alley that rested between the two buildings, my pumps making clip-clop noises against the cobblestones. My grin only grew as I pulled open the backstage door, instantly met with the bustling of the backstage as well as the smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol.

"Where the hell is Wren!? Has anybody seen her!?" The voice of my boss sounded above the noise.

I groaned, the smile vanishing from my face as I pushed my way through the girls putting on make-up and the men puffing on their cigarettes. Absently, I snatched one from a man named Greg and gingerly placed it between my lips, finally coming upon my boss as a girl named Margaret moved out of his way.

"Damnit, Wren, you're late! You go on in five minutes!" His eyes were nearly bugging out of his head and the vein in his neck was pulsing dangerously. The guy was going to give himself a heart attack.

I rolled my eyes, "Don't sweat it, Max, besides if they're here to see me, they'll wait as long as they have to." I blew a ring of smoke in his face and pushed my way past him.

"I should fire your ass, you know that, Wren?" he called after me as I ascended the steps to my dressing room.

"You been telling me that every night for a year, Max," I called back. "And how would you make money without me?"

I heard him sigh in irritation and storm off because he knew I was right. Each night the club filled with people to hear me sing and watch me perform and I loved it. The spotlight, the applause, the adoration of the audience, it was like a drug and I was addicted. It wasn't a bad way to live either, I made a couple hundred a week.

I quickly took off my fur coat and threw it in the chair in the corner of the room before picking up the nearest beaded dress and sliding it on. I made sure my make-up wasn't smudged then headed out of my dressing room, finally rushing.

Max was at the bottom of the stairs, tapping his foot impatiently. He heard my door open and looked up, breathing a sigh of relief as I walked past him. But he followed me as I ducked and weaved through the other performers choking the backstage area. "Let's go, Wren, move it, move it, move it! You're killin' me here!"

"Yeah, yeah," I replied, jumping onto the rising platform as the announcer began to introduce me.

"Ladies and gentlemen, The Onyx Club is proud to introduce to you tonight, one jazz babe that is sure to steal your heart, Wren Landon!"

The platform beneath me stopped shuttering as he finished my introduction and the applause disguised the creaking as the crew made sure it stayed in place. The inside of my eyelids turned red as the spotlight directed itself on me. The crowd was hushed, expectant, they didn't so much as breathe until I began to snap my fingers on every fourth beat. The house band joined a few moments later and I counted myself in before I opened my mouth.

Every eye was on me as I sang and danced my way across the stage and back again. There was no better adrenaline rush for me than being on the stage as the envy of every woman and the desire of every man in the club. But as I got halfway through my second number, an uneasy feeling was building in my stomach. As I belted out the final note, I scanned the audience because that was the direction the feeling was coming from.

And then I found the source of my sudden discomfort. Every set of eyes was looking at me the same way, except for one in the furthest corner. This set of eyes stared at me hard, a cold, judgmental stare and if looks could kill I'd have dropped dead on the stage. And the face that they belonged to was beautiful, inhumanly so, with perfect, angled features. The candle being used as a centerpiece of the table he sat at cast his features into stark relief, illuminating the dark shadows under his haunting eyes.

My breath caught in my throat as I stared at him making me glad I only had two numbers because I didn't think I could find it in me to catch my breath. I held myself together as I made my way to my dressing room, after all, I had a reputation to protect. Once in my dressing room, I collapsed against the door, my breathing finally coming in gasps. For the first time since I started working at the Onyx Club, I didn't go out into the bar to watch the rest of the performances, I stayed holed up in my dressing room trying to erase the memory of those eyes from my mind.

-:-

"See ya, Max!" I hollered as I headed out, counting that night's pay. Fifty bucks, not bad, not bad at all. I glanced at the clock as I opened the door - one o'clock.

I pulled the collar of my coat closer to my neck as I stepped into the late night air. I had to walk home, but I only lived a couple blocks over. Before I reached the mouth of the alley, I got the feeling that I was being followed, I spun around quickly, but there was no one there. My brow furrowed and I sighed, thinking that I was merely paranoid while I spun around and ran directly into something that felt like a wall.

I glanced up and I gasped, taking a step back. For a second time that night I was looking into those eyes. "I-I'm so sorry, I should've paid attention to where I was going."

His mouth twisted into a crooked grin that didn't reach his eyes, which I now noticed where dark as night, fathomless ebony. "That's alright." If I weren't scared out of my wits, I might've swooned at the velvet tone of his voice.

"If you'll excuse me," I said, moving around him and heading to the street.

"Would you like an escort home?" he wondered.

I turned around to answer and found myself immobile, completely captivated once again by his eyes. I gulped and replied, "Thank you, but I don't even know you."

"If it helps, my name is Edward Masen," he said, charmingly.

"Well, thank you for the offer, Edward, but I think I can manage," I replied turning once again. I just wanted away from him, he was making me feel very uncomfortable. The only thing I wanted was to get to the safety of my apartment and crawl into my nice warm bed.

He caught my arm in a forceful grip and whispered, "It's late, and I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you on your way home knowing it could've been prevented if I had been with you."

I cast him a glare, "I can take care of myself." I hadn't realized how tightly he was holding me, for when I wrenched my arm from his hand, I stumbled and went crashing to the ground. I howled in pain when the hand I had held out to stunt my fall landed on a piece of a broken bottle.

Next thing I knew, I heard an animalistic snarl and he was on me, his mouth at my throat. There was a pin-prick of pain and then I felt like I was floating, euphoric. I felt my body pressing itself against him, my hand gripping the collar of his shirt, I wanted to be closer. And then I started to feel weak, my eyelids were getting heavy and the euphoria was disappearing, being replaced with a panic.

"Please… st-stop!" I begged him.

He gasped and withdrew as he released his hold on me. As I fell like a dead-weight, something came away in my hand that had been gripping his collar. His face was twisted into a mask of agony as he bent over me and affectionately brushed my hair from my face.

"I'm so sorry," he lamented.

My vision was going in and out of focus, the edges blurring and fading to black. The last thing I remember seeing were his eyes, tormented by regret and despair for what he had done to me. Those eyes would haunt me for the rest of my existence.


Alright, so what do you think? I thought I'd try my hand at a Twilight fan-fic
and I've had this idea for awhile.

The next chapter is going to be the second prologue told from Edward's point of view.

And before anyone asks, YES this is going to be an EdwardOC
Why?
Well... am I the only one that does not like Bella? And besides, what girl doesn't want Edward for themselves?
Now, I know that Twilight fan-fic readers are... rabidly picky when it comes to OC's invading this fandom
but PLEASE give it try? I mean, I've found some fantastic ones!

Please review! And also keep in mind, any flames will be laughed at and not taken seriously.

-(gxr)-