Dun, dun, duuuunn. The plot actually picks up in this chapter. I know--WHAT?? But it's still kinda slow, sorry. My sincere apologies.

Disclaimer: My name is not Stephenie Meyer. So, I don't own any part of Twilight or it's sequels. I don't have that kind of genius.

Chapter Three

Killing gets easier after a while. First, you remove yourself from the situation. They are not people—they're prey, sheep to the slaughter. You become cold, uncaring. Because caring will get you hurt.

Then you give up. You stop fighting and hand yourself over to instinct. You try to forget even though your mind refuses to allow you to do that. So you do the next best thing—you distract yourself.

How do you distract yourself? Never stay in the same place for an extended period of time, for starters. Then you lose yourself to the hunt. The hunt becomes everything.

And if you can't help but think, you rationalize. You were built for this. You have all the advantages. And if you were meant to do something else, why would it be so hard?

This is the code I've lived by for years. Three years more specifically. Three years of decimation.

I'd traveled throughout most of the U.S. and Canada. I even went to Mexico for a little bit, but having to put even more effort than usual into staying hidden from the sun wore on my nerves.

I suppose I could have gone to Europe or Asia—or anywhere in the world for that matter—but I had a bit of nostalgia. And besides, I figured I had a long time to 'travel'. Because in those three years my appearance hadn't changed one whit. My hair hadn't gotten longer, my nails were still short, and my physique had not altered an iota. Further contributing to my limbo theory.

My latest area of interest was Maine. I'd skipped over it the last time I'd been on the east coast and I wanted some clouds in the summer months.

I was running. I was always running really. Mostly because the speed was flat-out amazing, but partly because it emptied my mind. All I had to do was focus on not hitting trees.

I couldn't have been more than halfway through the state when I smelled it. Fresh blood. And not just a person randomly walking around either. They were injured and alone. Which just made my job that much easier.

I slow to a walk, slowly circling the area. I knew my eyes had to be near black with the thirst, but I held myself back a little longer. My control was infinitely better than the first year when I'd jumped nearly every human I came across. Now I had the strength to tolerate it. But open blood was so much more difficult to resist…

I near the scent, my mouth watering. But then I see my would-be victim. It's a little girl who can't be more than six. Breath I don't need catches in my throat.

She's crying softly, cradling her arm; she must have fallen and broken it. I notice a vague trail and realize that she had to have wandered off of it. I can't breathe.

I don't breathe but I can still hear. Hear her heart pounding in her chest, the blood rushing hrough her veins, the whoosh of breath entering and exiting her lungs. The darkest of temptations.

But I can't kill this little girl. I'm already enough of a monster, killing all those people over the years, but killing her would make me beyond any hope of redemption I may have had.

I stand there, frozen, my nails digging into my palms, making temporary crescent shapes in my stony skin. The ache in my throat is awful and I can't hold myself away for much longer.

Human instincts I thought were long dead are battling vampiric ones. Some odd, maternal instinct versus a need to kill.

I stare, take a step towards her, and then notice movement a little ways off. An inhumanly beautiful man with golden hair and eyes moves next to her. His skin glimmers slightly in a catch of sun. He's like me! And…what's he doing? Is he comforting her? How can he stand the blood?

Incredulity courses through me, obliterating any attempt to go after the girl. His eyes catch mine, ruby on gold. He breaks eye contact, gathering the now sleeping girl in his arms. Turning east, he breaks into a run. I just stand there in shock, unable to make myself move.

How…how is it possible? How can he have such control? How is he strong enough?

I slowly sink to the ground and lean against a tree. My eyes are still wide open from surprise.

I'm so stunned, so many things and emotions racing through me, that I don't even notice that the man returned until he speaks.

"What's your name?" he asks. I feel an alarming sense of déjà vu.

"Roxanne," I reply, turning to look at him in wonder. He just returns my glance curiously, head cocked slightly to the side.

"Is she okay?" I ask before I can stop myself. His face adopts an even more questioning look.

"Yes. I took her to her parents, who were very surprised to learn that their daughter had walked off." He shakes his head in disgust. "People like that shouldn't be parents."

I feel a surge of compassion for the girl, which is almost instantly overshadowed by blinding curiosity.

"How did you do it?" I ask, pure awe marring my voice. He chuckles slightly.

"It wasn't easy. It's taken quite a bit of practice to be able to do that." A slightly grim smile crosses his face, as if remembering some long-ago instance.

"Can you teach me?" I say softly, almost sure of rejection. His expression turns suddenly serious.

"This isn't a gentle lifestyle, Roxanne," he warns. "It's awful, hard, and nearly impossible to do. You're going to slip up, and when you do it just makes it even harder to resist. It's difficult, beyond difficult; it's the hardest thing you'll ever do."

I know. I know this. All of it. But maybe…maybe if I could stop hurting people, then it'd all be worth it. Maybe I wouldn't feel like such a monster.

I give a sober nod. "Teach me anyway."

So...any guesses as to who our mystery character is? You know what? You can tell me in a REVIEW! I know, the idea is absolute insanity.