Upstairs was the same, except for the dust that had collected in the kitchen. I eyed the cabinets wearily, remembering a time when I was not strong enough to hoist myself over the counter and reach for the spaghetti sauce. Now, I could blow up the counter to just get it out of my way. Charlie was so fond of the food I made him…
He was not so fond of, however, being ignored the last forty years. I couldn't necessarily come home looking pale and refined, with different mannerisms and a hate for sunlight; he might not have believed in the supernatural, but he'd suspect something otherworldly going on. I was too much of a coward to confirm his suspicions, so I stayed away.
Now I wished, as I often did in quiet moments as this, that Laurent never found me. Of course he hadn't meant to destroy me – no, he thought that in the act of biting he was salvaging. That Bella Swan was lost for good without the venom he could give me.
I had been sprawled on the side of the road, exactly five months after Edward left, tracing the outlines of clouds absently with my raised hand, when a car zoomed past. Dust attacked my open mouth, and I started to choke.
And then, like the Angel of Death, Laurent appeared, a cloak hiding his body and a slight limp. When he recognized my scent, he dragged me into the bushes and tried to wake me. I only remember the darkness then; Edward's face was the backdrop to my lids, and he grinned crookedly, cooing my name in a soft inviting tone.
Laurent brought me back, though, and Edward's face disappeared. I was deranged. He couldn't control me, and so Laurent acted on impulse.
You cannot blame a man who believes himself a saint.
Life was a dulcet indulgence in my first hour of complete transformation. I could sense, see, smell, and hear things on a different caliber. The world became my forced playground, and I was sure that Edward could find me now. Vampires must be connected to one another, I reasoned, for I could sometimes feel the presence of others like myself.
I wasn't aware that this unfortunate gift was bestowed upon me by my creator. Laurent has more to hide than obvious.
Edward never came – just as he did not for those five months. That is how forty years have passed, my insides deteriorating but my body as fresh as eighteen, with no friends now that Laurent has been summoned by the Volturi; just a fortune jingling in my pocket and a very disturbed imagination. I would dream of drinking human blood sometimes – teenage boys walking home from school; but they were not the sort of pleasant visions one dotes on. They were my nightmares, my absolute fears.
That I would one day succumb, no matter how human blood smelled to me, to the innate desire. The thirst that ruled my kind.
However, by means of flattery, I was doing wonderful. Going out in public, whatever my proximity may be to humans was no problem. There wasn't much to prompt me to leave the confines of whatever dark inhabitance I used each week, so discovery was impossible.
After all, who would remember little Bella Swan, who died at the age of eighteen from asphyxiation due to heat?
That's what the medical examiner said. I choked on the sun. How ridiculous.
Only Jacob questioned this, and demanded to see the body, but when they rejected him he knew. One last time he came to visit, to that precious meadow, and his parting sorrows hurt almost as much as Edward's.
"Bells, I can't believe you did this. I was there for you. I was your best friend." He'd paused then to wipe what may have been tears off his face, "and now we're nothing but enemies."
That bold statement summed up my existence. Even vampires shied away from me and my 'fickle' nature; meaning I did not feast on humans. What kind of vampire was I, they mocked? A vegetarian? How silly.
Those were the times I fervently wished for Carlisle. His presence was comforting. Alas, I'd seen naught of the Cullens for the past forty years, and never expected to cross ways with them again.
But that was the past. Unimportant. There was a vampire on the loose in Forks; that was the present.
Stepping off the porch, I gave the house a goodbye glance, and turned to leave with heavy eyes. There was an eternity left to mourn the loss of this house, the loss of Charlie, and very soon the loss of Renee. She was living off a ventilator at St. Mary's in Jacksonville. In a brief selfish moment I contemplated biting her… for an everlasting companion, but such a horrible thought can never overstay its welcome.
I locked myself in a room for a week just for thinking it. This life has hardened my sympathy for humans.
With each graceful step the house disappeared further and further behind me; it soon became a dot on a distant street with no meaning. My new target was the school; I had to enroll as Marie Swan, a supposed distant cousin of the late Swan family. Mrs. Cope still worked there, bless her should-be-retired soul, and despite her senile demeanor those eyes forget little.
My appearance had been altered by the change, though, so it wasn't a gamble to call myself a relative.
As I approached the recognizable building, I had to smirk. Imagine how astute I had become, how cunning and self-preservative this life had made me. I was no longer clumsy, only poised. I did not walk, I glided. Nor did I eat, to the speculation of many.
Yet, the layers of clothes kept anyone from pegging an eating disorder on me. I was just… 'different', as a girl in East Sussex I met seven years ago put it.
Perhaps this drastic alteration would help Mrs. Cope accept the fact that Marie Swan was a transfer student from Ann Arbor, Michigan, who had no desire to speak about her deceased relatives or their time at Forks High School.
I took a bold step forward and slid through the doors; my gag reflex involuntarily heaved.
The stench of human was so overwhelming, not because of population but because of familiarity. I knew all these smells, children of those I went to school with, and Mrs. Cope sitting at her desk with ancient wrinkles; and Edward.
Edward Cullen lingered in the air. Surprising that I could recognize it, since I never caught his scent as a vampire, but I knew. I knew because I smelled love, and it knocked me off my feet. For the first time in forty years I had tripped walking through a door.
How would Mrs. Cope ever believe me now?