Again, I cannot claim any of this as more than fanfiction, and I own no part of the Twilight series. Not perfect, there are flaws, blah blah blah.
They circled around me, and suddenly the fear left me
They circled around me, and suddenly the fear left me. I had never felt so…welcomed, as I did then, with the circle of beautiful creatures surrounding me, smiling at me, their dark eyes intent on mine, blue and wide with wonder. One of the males—the one with the silky voice and flaxen hair, the one called Riley—came at me from behind, his lips gently brushing the nape of my neck, a mere sigh of contact that barely registered.
"Tell us your name," he breathed against my skin. His breath was wonderfully sweet: it smelled like everything that had ever brought me joy. It smelled like…happiness of the fullest, brightest kind, the kind with which I had never been able to reconcile myself. My insides swelled, but my knees were still too weak to let me stand. Seeing this, the man grasped my arm gently and pulled me up. I had no chance of resisting his pull, strong as he was, but I noticed that his hands were colder than the night. They were like….stone, but so…lifeless.
"What are you?" I remember asking, surprised that my voice was strong enough for them to hear. The redhead woman smiled ruefully. She was dressed, I noticed, just like any Seattle teenager—all of them were: sweatshirts and ripped jeans, Converse shoes, studded belts, dirty bracelets. They looked so normal, except for their absurd magnificence, like radiant stars in a black sky.
"Your name," the blonde one breathed against my neck again. I realized he had his icy arms around my waist, so I leaned against him. I felt, then, that he had no heartbeat. I would never have known he was there, if he had not been touching me. He held me like a lover, but when I twisted slightly I realized this was no lover's embrace—it was a cage. I struggled a bit and his arms never moved, not even a little. I stopped, knowing there was no way I could escape. You'd think I was terrified by then, but the truth is that I was so far beyond fear. I was intoxicated by everything about them, I was so heavy with desire that I could not find it in me to be afraid. I was young, you remember; I didn't know.
"Bree," I breathed. "My name…is Bree. Richardson." He held me closer, and suddenly I was so tired I couldn't fight it, and my eyes started to slip closed. I heard the higher female voice laugh, a sound like little wind-chimes that could have made the wind sigh.
"You won't need sleep after this," she murmured somewhere to my left. "This is the longest sleep of all." I tried to understand her meaning, but my brain was too fuzzy to make sense of her words. And suddenly I felt the body of the blonde boy behind me chuckle, shaking me a little; and then his lips were at my neck, kissing my white skin. I felt pressure as he kissed my neck harder, and suddenly a shock of pain hit me as I felt something sharp puncture my flesh. I wanted to fight, and I think I tried, but I was so tired and he held onto my so tightly that it was in vain. I felt him…drinking me, my lifeblood slipping through his lips, and even though I kicked a little, I think I let him have me. I didn't want to die, but I didn't want to live. I gave up and my body hung limp in his arms, and then everything was black.
For the following three days, all I knew was pain, the most hideous, agonizing, monstrous pain ever imagined. My whole body wanted to scream and run, like it was being turned inside out, but it was so horrifying I could do nothing but lay there on the cold ground. I didn't know where I was: in my unconsciousness Victoria and her crew had taken me somewhere, some big crowded house. I screamed, I tore my throat up with screaming. There were five or six people in the room with me, all screaming and writhing, just the same as I. For three days I bore the gruesome torture, unable to do anything about it. No one came when I screamed. No one cared. I was dying or falling apart and nobody even opened the door. I have never feared death so much as I did then, on the floor of Victoria's house, venom and new hate burning in my veins.
And then, abruptly, the pain receded. I stopped screaming. My own skin was icy cold to the touch—cold like theirs had been. I could not tell you what I felt then: relieved at the end of the pain, and…there are no words, no way I can describe it to you. I felt dead and alive, simultaneously. I felt hollow, yet I felt more whole than I ever have.
But mostly, I was thirsty. And I knew what I thirsted for.
The others around me also gradually stopped their screeching and thrashing and sat up, looking around us. I remember the wood floor beneath us felt like it had never been swept. It was dark, with a little bit of light pouring in from below the door. I was alert of everything around me in ways I had never been. I knew that the rest of the people inside the big Seattle house were…like me, whatever I was. And I knew that, in a few seconds, the tension building exponentially towards one corner of the room would reach critical mass and explode.
A shattering snarl erupted; a louder, livid one followed. Suddenly there was a commotion, and two of the creatures in the room with me threw themselves at one another. The sound was like boulders colliding. The walls shook, and the door slammed open—some of the others in the room with me ran out, and I saw each of them had white, beautiful skin the same as mine. I was too horrified to move, so I watched as the two monsters tore each other apart, ripping white stones from one another. It was the single most violent thing I'd ever seen—and I'd been living in a dark part of town, where a lot of drug deals went poorly and a lot of homeless people became targets for the merciless street kids, like me. But these creatures, they didn't bleed: the ripped and tore and snarled, garnet fire in their inhuman eyes. They moved so fast, too fast—they made sounds that could only be described as animal—and I knew I was just like them.
It was all over in no more than ten seconds. The two creatures both had died in their fight, reduced to shapeless , stony white hunks scattered about the room. Shaken, I stared at them.
What were we? What beings could do things like this? Clearly we were something outlandish, otherworldly. What had they…made me?
"You're a newborn vampire," Riley told me later that night, when I finally ventured out of the room in which I…well, where I was born, I guess. There were a zillion newborn vampires running around Victoria's house, coming and going, being born and killing each other. There was a constant screaming that frightened me at first, but the more time I spent there, the less its presence swam in my ears. I didn't believe it when they told me, but I could do everything they said I would be able to.
And I thirsted for human blood like I had never known the taste of anything else, ever.
The longing for it was more than longing. It was life; no, it was more than life. It was everything I needed. It was the only thing I needed. It was ever present in my thoughts; indeed, it was the only thing I found I could ever think about. I lived—if my existence could really be considered living—only to feed.
And I fed often, several times a day. But no matter how much I fed—how many human lives I took—to slake my hunger, it was never, never enough. I could do nothing without wondering when I could feed again, when my fangs—for I found that I did, indeed, have fangs, those sharp things found only in the monsters of fairytales—would pierce the neck's skin of some poor person, lured to me by my new beauty. I was as breathtaking as the rest of the newborns, and as I grew into being a vampire, I learned to use what I was to attract them. It was like a frenzy for me: I needed blood, and I needed it all the time. That period for me…it was indescribable. It was like that for all of us.
It's true, what they say about newborn vampires. Our strength is incredible. Our tempers are even more unbelievable: we anger at anything, the slightest little thing can turn us in the monsters we always have the capability to be. I had my share of fights; I killed a few members of our coven, as Victoria, or Riley, her especial friend, called it. He was only a few months older than most of us, but because Victoria had clearly decided to favor him (that he had won her favor was…clearly not the case), he enjoyed lording it above us. But because I had shown promise in my training, scarce more than the others, he did not punish me. And I was not sorry—I think I had quite forgotten how to be and what it felt like. It's saddening to think now that maybe by killing those newborns, I was saving them. Saving them, at least, from the nightmares they faced in training for Victoria's army. But I know that I say that to cover myself, for while I was not sorry for their deaths then, my own deaths have given me back my ability to feel human, and I am sorry now.
We didn't even know what we were fighting for, really, only that we were to do something for Victoria and that we would be rewarded—we were never told with what. Vampires have some code that follows the lines of do-unto-others-what-is-done-unto-you, but I'm obviously a little fuzzy on the details. We imagined our reward would be Seattle and all the human life in it, that it would be our territory and we could feed as we pleased. It did not occur to us then that Seattle was not really hers to give, and if we all of us just let loose, soon there would be no human life to satisfy us. There was no order established, no organization of any kind. Our responsibility was to make more newborns and learn to fight.
At night groups of us would go through town and…feast. No better word comes to mind. We would terrorize and destroy, kill, kill, and kill again. Life for me then was some horrible concoction of death and killing and…eugh. Let me say that at that point, we were not monsters because of what we were physically. We were monsters because we liked it—we liked what we were and what we could do. It was fun for us. The memory disgusts me.
They had made me into an eternal sixteen year old—I would look that way forever. But because I had never learned (or refused to learn, I suppose) how to deal with my problems and my anger, I was permanently sixteen inside, too. Not a day went by that Mandy's freckled face did not invade my head. I saw that last image of her, with Jeremy, constantly. If I had been angry before, I was so far gone in it now that I knew nothing else. I thought what she had done to me was inexcusable, the worst of human mistakes. I decided then that it would be her last mistake. A normal person would have been upset at her infidelity, and maybe keyed her car or something. A normal person would have realized that the problem was me and my continual acceptance of her control over me. A normal person would not have decided that the best punishment for my cheating girlfriend was, essentially, to eat her. But I wouldn't do to her what had been done to me—I would bite her, yes, and I would crush her in my arms with my teeth in her neck as she struggled against me, but she would not escape and would fall, limp and lifeless, with a thud like a heavy bag on the ground.
I had it all planned. I went to the apartment we inhabited and waited, knowing Mandy was at work. A few of the others were there, but I was so quick and quiet none of them ever noticed me. I found the disgustingly dirty bedroom Mandy and I had shared, where Laura and Amy had slept on the floor, and went to the darkest corner. I could stand for long periods without pain. We vampires are like stone, seriously—too many stairs or standing or sitting for too long doesn't bother us at all. So I waited.
But I didn't have to wait very long. It was just after six when I heard Mandy come through the front door of the apartment, her raucous laughter coupled with Jeremy's. Fury boiled beneath my skin, coursing through dry veins where blood should have been. It was hideously difficult to remain still when I knew my chance was so near. If I had had a heart, it would have begun pounding furiously in my chest when I heard the two of them climbing the stairs toward the bedroom. And suddenly they burst through the door to the bedroom, holding each other and kissing as lovers do. I watched them fall into the bed, grasping each other madly. I watched as Jeremy tore away her shirt, her bra, her favorite pair of jeans, touching her where only I should have touched her. When I could stand no more, I approached the bed, my ruby eyes boring through them. I made no noise, but the absolute wrath in my face was more than enough. My presence was—obviously—not expected. Mandy screamed.
"Oh my God! Bree? What the fuck! What the fuck are you doing here? I thought you left—were you watching? What the fuck is wrong with you? What the fuck!" She made an attempt to cover herself with a bed sheet (totally gross ones, too. I knew what had happened to them in their long lifespan). Jeremy was dumbstruck. When I didn't respond, I saw her face change, taking in my new beauty and the horrible anger in my expression.
"Bree?" she said, more quietly this time. "What the hell…happened to you?"
"I was given a gift," was my reply. I admit I tried to sound elegant, poetic, superior to her. My words were all overdone. It was more like a bad sci-fi movie than what I wanted it to be. But at the time, I thought I was doing pretty well. "A gift I will not choose to give to you." She blinked, her wide mouth agape. I instructed Jeremy to please shut and lock the door and get back in bed in my wonderfully silky, melodious voice, knowing he could not refuse the tone of my command. I smiled softly at him, what I hoped was desirously: I suppose it worked, as I saw a bit of lust enter his expression. Mandy saw it, too.
"What is this about, Bree? What do you want?"
"I want what I've always wanted. I want you." She frowned, evidently confused.
"Is this because I cheated on you? What the fuck, Bree. We were, like, never even together. Not exclusively. I thought you knew that." Was she admitting to sleeping with more people than Jeremy? Was she a complete idiot? I had to steady myself when my eyes spied her blue veins, bulging through her white and freckled skin. I could imagine the pounding of her heart.
"No, I didn't know that." My voice was perfectly calm; she would never have known that beneath my tranquil veneer, I burned to destroy her, to drink her with a passion I could scarcely control.
"Well, it's probably time to get over it," she snapped. I smiled gently.
"Yes, I think it probably is." I moved with grace finer than a dancer's across the room to Jeremy, who was sitting on the bed again, where I leaned towards his face as if to kiss him. I remember climbing on top of him, my scent intoxicating him. He did not push me away, as I knew he wouldn't. I stroked his face with my stony hands, and felt him flinch under the cold. But I let my eyes smolder at him, parted my lips erotically, and I felt him begin to respond to me. He tried to kiss me, forgetting Mandy. I let him, nibbling his lips, let his gross man-hands wander over me. Mandy was outraged—she had jumped out of the bed, not bothering to take the sheet with her.
"What the fuck?" she yelled, standing naked beside the bed. I broke away from Jeremy, turning my sultry gaze on her. I had to squash his face between my fingers to keep him still.
"If I can't have you, Mandy, I'll have to have everyone else who does, won't I? I'll have to…eliminate the competition." I let Jeremy kiss me again before continuing. "And I want you to watch."
She stood there, horrified at my words, as I turned Jeremy's face away from mine with a ridiculously strong hand. I started to kiss his neck and heard him sigh beneath me before I plunged my sharp teeth into the softness of his flesh.
"Ow, fuck, what the hell are you doing?" he growled beneath me. Hot blood ran into my mouth, and, as I was a newborn vampire, I predictably lost control with the taste of it. I chewed his neck apart, my hands raking along his body, opening thin cuts everywhere. He screamed as I drank his lifeblood, his skin turning paler by the second. Somewhere in the distance of my immediacy I heard Mandy scream, too, bloodcurdling and terrified. The sheets were soon dyed and smothered with Jeremy's blood; in my frenzy I had somehow managed to fling some on every wall of the room, the ceiling, the windows, the adulteress herself. At last he was quiet, motionless in the bed with me, and I knew I his veins had exhausted themselves in order to sate my lust.
Mandy had seen everything, just as I wanted her to. I wanted her to know what I was going to do to her. I wanted her dead more than I had ever wanted her living.
High with Jeremy's blood, I turned like the monster I had become towards her, crawling over the red and white corpse with yet more hunger in my face, smeared with blood. Jeremy's head lolled sickeningly to the side, as one's head should never do, except in failed beheadings with blunt axes in medieval Europe.
Mandy had backed herself into a corner, paralyzed with fear. Blood glinted off my teeth—or fangs, as it were. She was naked and beautiful, for a human, and I thought then that she should leave the world as she had entered it—nude, bloody, and screaming. I would take her life as her mother had given it; I was the only one who could control her now, as she had controlled me. I was not merciful.
I came upon her like lion to sick zebra, and her blood was the sweetest thing, the most wonderful of all things, that had ever touched my lips.
What I did to Mandy should not bear repeating. With my teeth, my strength, my nails, and my hatred, I did things to her no one should ever suffer nor hear of. By the time I had satisfied myself with her death, you would not have even been able to tell what she was. You would not have even known she had once been a whole person.
I waited in my bloodlust for the other members of my old household to return, and I did to each of them what I had done to Jeremy and Mandy. I was so full by the time I was done, I would not need to feed for weeks. The police would report state that the homeless youths who had died there were victims of Seattle's newly famous serial killer. It would be in the news for a day, and then they would be forgotten.
I am deeply sorry for this, now. Mandy had wounded me deeply, yes, but she was not much different than I. She was just as scared and just as sad, just as lost and hopeless. She was not a good person, but I think she would have been, if I had allowed her to grow up. But I robbed her of salvation and I stole from her any future she might have had. I drank all their futures before they even had a chance to come to fruition in dreams. I felt justified for killing them all then, but I was sixteen, and I knew nothing. I remember their names every day now, and I know that they are absolutely excused from forgiving me—their forgiveness, and the forgiveness of Jeannie and Donald, are not things I have earned, nor that I will ever earn. But to each of them, to Mandy, Jeremy, Jason, Amy, Laura, Jeff, Davie, Jaden, and Brittany, I apologize a thousand times. I apologize the world over, and I'll keep apologizing until I am finally dead, like I deserve to be.