1Solstice
Chapter One: Alone
Ok, Yall. In case you haven't noticed, this chick lacks a name. Now this is for two reasons.
A. Even us suckey authors like a little suspense
b. I can't decide between two names for her.
Gwen, or Paige.
If you have a preference, Review. I'm gonna describe her in this chapter, so that will help a little. . . Onward!
I don't know how long I was laying there, my cheek pressed on the brick of that small nook. The pain was too great to understand anything except the searing fire like sensation that was slowly spreading to the rest of my body. I couldn't even be sure if it was night or day. A few times I could swear that I could see light from the crack separating me from the rest of the world, but it had to be just me dreaming because there was no way that any light could be seen from the ally, let alone the crevice.
Most of the time I was just trying to get my mind off the fear of what was happening to me. I thought of Jeremy a lot. Well worried is a better word. I had terrible dreams, nightmares, about him. About my baby brother getting in the way of my dad when he was in a mood.
I tried to block the images that the dreams left seared in my memory, but the horrifying pictures only intensified as the pain increased.
So I lay there, a crumpled heap on the cold brick, wondering what was happening to me. Was I dying? Was I already dead? Was this Hell? Surely Heaven couldn't be as painful as this was.
My mind drifted to a time when I was seven and I had heard that a missionary speaker was coming to the community center across town from our apartment. I had gone, mostly to get out of the house. I hadn't really payed attention then, but now her words echoed in my mind. She had talked about Hell and how it was a fiery pit that made you remember the things you did wrong in life, and all the loved ones that you let down. This certainly fit the description. I tried to push the thoughts of Hell out of my mind and tried to force my body to sleep.
I awoke to something cool and hard pressed on my cheek. Opening my eyes, I saw that I was still laying on the ground in the nook. . . and the hard cold object was my arm. That freaked me out. Something weird had definitely happened to me. Why wasn't I dead. I pulled my other hand up and looked at them. Ghostly white. All traces of my skins former pigment were gone now, left with a translucent ivory white.
I began to stand, thinking I would need the brick wall for support after being immobile for God knows how long. Surprisingly enough though, as I began to stand, I found that I felt stronger than I ever had. Every joint, every bone in my body felt powerful enough to lift a car. I looked at my arms that could be seen as chalky white , but muscular against the black fabric of my dance tank top. As scared as I was, I put an icy hand to my chest to feel if my heart was beating out of my chest.
I felt nothing.
No pulse whatsoever.
I checked my wrist.
Still nothing.
Terrified now, I sidestepped to get through the small opening, and in to the dimly lit ally. There was my car. A hunk of scrap metal in a jumbled heap on the ground. I slowly walked over to it, not quite sure what exactly I was afraid of. Broken glass was scattered all over the ground. Like small crystals. I grabbed on to the handle of my mangled door, wondering why my hand wasn't shaking uncontrollably. I always shook when I was scared. I opened the door, I thought softly, and the entire thing was ripped clean off it's hinges. Fighting to keep calm, I dropped it and blamed the breaking of the door on the mangled condition of the rest of the car, instead of the freak accident that had happened.
Inside all was as I had left it. Except that everything was covered in a layer of shattered glass. In the passenger seat was my duffle bag. I grabbed it and quickly made my way as far from the car as I could get. Leaning up against the wall, I dumped it out and sifted through the bags contents until I found what I was looking for. With deft fingers, I un-clipped the clasp to the small mirror and held it up to my face. The second I saw my reflection, I gasped, I was so surprised that I dropped the mirror, an even more surprised when, acting on impulse, my arm swooped down, and grabbed it before it hit the ground. It all happened so fast that all I saw was a swoop of white. My head was pounding as I lifted my mirror once again. I had to keep calm. Someone would know what was wrong with me. I just had to find them.
I had dropped the mirror in the first place because of my reflection. I had never been beautiful, never even pretty. I was the kid with stringy, limp hair, who looked ugly in everything and seriously needed a make over. The kind of kid who people either ignored in school, or stuck their foot out to trip them. The person I saw in my reflection was the furthest thing from that. My hair was flowing and satiny, like jet black silk. It fell straight down my neck and in a wave over my shoulders, before falling to rest in the middle of my back. My bangs fell just above my eyes, framing my perfect long lashes and making them seem all the more beautiful. I gave my head a little shake and watched as it flowed up before resting again, perfect as before. My skin was deathly pale, like my hands and arms, but beautiful in the way that it contrasted with my hair. My lis were full and colored. A soft natural pink. My eyes were the most different. My only aspect of beauty had been my eyes. They had been clear crystal blue. My fathers eyes. Now they were red. Blood red. I placed the mirror back in the bag and searched through the rest of my things. Not much. All I had was a sweatshirt, an extra tank top. A pair of wrinkled shorts, a brush and about a dozen bobby pins at the bottom of the bag. Not including my pointe shoes, and ballet shoes.
I packed everything as neatly as I could and stood, not sure where I was going. I was in a daze I guess. Confused and alone. I just began walking, through the dark alleys and catacombs of my neighborhood. I just walked. Looking at the full moon every once in a while.
I didn't notice them until they had surrounded me. And when I did, I was sorry. There were six of them. All men, all wearing a gang symbol emblazed on a too big sweatshirt. I should have been afraid, should have been thinking of ways to fight them off or to get away, but I wasn't. I am ashamed to even think that I was exited, well no. . . I can't explain what I was feeling, just that I wanted them to come closer, wanted to taste their skin, their flesh, their . . . blood. I dropped my bag and felt my lips twist in to a smile.
One of them, I guessed their leader, Spoke up. He had long brown hair that hung in to his eyes.
"Well you're a pretty one, ain't ya?"
He nodded, and his little gang closed the circle even more. Acting on my senses, which were intensified to an extreme. I crouched in to the position of a cat just before it leaps, at their movement. One of them, a young boy with black hair, looked nervous at my action, but still they came closer. I felt a growl come from my throat that sounded like some sort of animal. I didn't even care anymore about whatever it was that had happened to me, all I wanted was them. All at once they attacked, coming at my full force. But I could sense their actions before even they could. The young one with the black hair came at me, fists wielding. I felt my fist fly forward before I even knew what was happening. I felt it make contact and heard the noise as my balled up hand crumpled his skull as if it was made of paper mache. I saw the rest of them step back as they saw him fall, clearly dead. One of them pulled a switchblade, and as the rest of them ran, he came at me. I grabbed his wrist, and yanked it, breaking his arm. Holding his hand to my face I breathed in his skin, if smelled so wonderful that I lifted it to my lips and bit down softly. I heard his scream out in pain and I let go. The sound reminded me of my mother when she was getting beaten.
I looked down at the younger boy. The one who I had killed, the smell coming off his blood was so sweet smelling. That's when I really looked at him. My stomachs knotted as I realized that he looked exactly like an older Jeremy. I could just see him, growing up in a troubled home and joining a gang for some sort of family. I wanted to cry, but no tears came. I couldn't let that happen to him, but I couldn't go home either, not with this obvious lack of self control. That's when I decided what I had to do. I would have to find someone, anyone , who could tell me what had happened to me, and help me. No matter how far. Then I would come back and find Jeremy, get him a good home. I knew it would be hard, But I had to try. With one last look from the Jeremy boy to the other boy writhing in pain, I grabbed my bag, and ran. I ran and ran, gaining speed until everything was just a blur. I would find that someone, no matter what it took.
XxX
Bella's point ov view
Everyone laughed as Emmett tried his best to lick his elbow, a dare of mine. It was night, Charlie thought I was at the movie with Edward, but the movie had gotten boring, so we had come to his house. I looked at Alice, who was fiddling with Jasper's hair. Suddenly her face got clouded, and her hands went to her head. Everyone stopped talking. After a moment, she opened her eyes. Her tawny eyes were filled with worry, and she spoke to her family, as if I wasn't even there.
"A newborn, on her way. She's looking for us."
Dun dun dun dun! A cliffie! Now, review, so I can update. I need a name before I can write more and I'm not gonna decide on my own.
Sarah
