Jordan's P.O.V.

I feel tired.

Seriously, if anyone were to ask me right now what I want to do for the rest of eternity long, it would be to sleep. People weren't made to live beyond their time. I wasn't supposed to outlive myself. And this is the way I have come to realize it - through utter fatigue. It seems almost like a curse, this inability to sleep. Resting does nothing for my soul, and my muscles don't tire the way they used to.

I wonder how they put up with it for decades on end. How do they cut loose from their mundane existence? By going on shopping sprees all the time? By doing 'it' whenever they get a little bored? By focusing on personal projects to keep from losing their minds?

I get up off the bed. Most of the Cullens have gone out to buy sheets and glasses and stuff like that but I was to stay home in case something happened. Not to the house, or anything. In case something happened to me. You know, in case my hunger would take over. Esme had offered to stay home with me, but since Carlisle knew she was desperate to take on the decoration of their new home, he'd stayed behind instead. Secretly I'm happy he's done so, since I don't think I could stand to stay in the same house with Esme if it were just the two of us.

To get my mind off the image of her kind, heart-shaped face with warm eyes and an equally warm smile, I walk over to the mirror on the wall in my bathroom - these people have it fucking made- and dare myself to look at my reflection. It takes me three tries not to look away immediately and when I finally really look at myself, I am surprised by how little I have changed. My usually blue-green eyes have turned honey-gold and my skin is a bit paler than it used to be, but aside from that that not much else has changed. The imperfections on my skin are gone, yes, but I still have the same two beauty marks on each cheek in the exact same place, and my hair, though a bit richer in colour, has the same straight, tepid appearance.

I dare myself to take it a step further and remove my top. Same cup-size. Same freckle on my collarbone. I turn to the side. Nope. Still the same person. There is one thing I'm grateful for - my disease has made it hard for me to eat easily, so I lost a lot of weight over the months. I suppose it would suck if I had been in the middle of a bingeing period and my body had frozen in that state forever. But now, instead of seeing the tanned skin I'm used to, my eyes are met with nothing-white flesh that looks ready to split at any second.

If anything, in all honesty, I think I look worse than I used to. I miss the colour of my eyes. I miss the redness of my cheeks. I miss the chapped condition of my lips.

I miss the warmth I used to emit.

Sorrow and frustration take over and I find myself wishing I looked like someone else. Maybe that really pretty girl from my school. The one with the sandy-blonde waves and deep red lips and bright blue eyes that spoke of dreams and future goals and aspirations. I'd always admired her for getting good grades and being good-looking and social at the same time.

I sigh and give myself a last once-over in the mirror.

I shriek.

If my heart had a beat it would have stopped. If the shock could have jump-started my heartbeat, I'm sure it would have. And if you had been here instead of me, you would have done the exact same thing.

Carlisle enters the room in a flash and I turn and yell, "What happened to me?!"

"Jordan?" he asks.

"Yes!" Oh God. Oh no. He obviously doesn't know what's going on. Oh no oh no oh no oh fucking fuck what is this?!

"You look a little... different."

"I know! I'm her!" The girl from my school, the one I was thinking about.

"Okay, well, calm down and we'll figure this out, alright?"

"How can we figure this out?! Is this normal?!"

"I don't know, Jordan, I've never seen a vampire transform befo-" he cuts himself off then and realization sparks in his eyes.

"What?" I prompt, sure that he knows something.

"Unless this is your gift."

"My what?" I ask, though I know what he means. I just want to hear him say it again, just want to make sure this is normal.

"Perhaps this is your power. Shape-shifting. Do you remember my theory?"

"Yes, I... it makes sense now!"

He quirks one eyebrow in a questioning manner and I am compelled to explain, "I used to fantasize about being a different person. I used to think about being someone else, someone without my disease. I used to think about going to prom and getting married and..." Suddenly it hits me. I will never get married. I will never have children. I will never grow up.

I have faced this 'conundrum' once already, and it has already torn my heart in two. But now, being faced with it again... I had always known that I would die before I got married. I had always known that having children wasn't in the cards for me. But I had had a firm belief that whatever came next would be gentle with me. That I would have a better life when this one was over. But now I am stuck in this shell of a body that can not grow older. That can not bear children. I am at the prime of my youth and yet I can do nothing with it.

"I... I need a moment."

"Jordan?"

"Just need some air."

I open the window and climb out onto the roof. I have no idea how I know that I'm capable of doing so - God knows I've never tried such a stunt in my life, yet something tells me I can pull it off. Evidently, as I sit ontop of the house, I feel much better. I can breathe the cool air and feel it passing through my lungs. I do not know if I need it. I do not know if my body can process the oxygen. I do know that no blood will be delivering it to the useless organs that it contains. But I also know that it feels nice.

And as long as it feels nice, that's good enough for me.

Something zooms by my line of sight and suddenly Carlisle is sitting perched beside me, extending his hand to touch my shoulder lightly, uncertain of my response.

"I just needed a moment," I say.

"It's normal to feel confused. I just want you to know that if you have any questions for me, any at all, I'll try my best to answer them."

I look up at him, uncertain still about this man. How am I supposed to ask him about these things when I don't even know for sure what his part is in this... pack?

"Who are you?" I ask.

He looks shocked. "Jordan, is it possible that you have lost your sense of self when you shape-shifted?"

"I mean, who were you?" The words feel funny on my tongue. "Who did you use to be?"

"Well, I used to be the son of a pastor. I was born in 1640 in London, England. I was changed at the age of 23 and am a physician."

"And why did you change me?"

"I told you,-"

"No. Why me? There are thousands of people starving and dying daily. Why did you turn me instead of them?"

"Well, I don't work where the people starve and die daily. And I realize that I can not simply turn every person I come by that is struggling. But you were different. I saw you fighting your disease in the rehabilitation center every day. I saw how deeply you cared for your family and friends. I saw your compassion and potential. I couldn't let that go to waste."

Despite the fact that he has just told me that he thought me too good a person to let me die, I can't let him delude me of these things. For he was wrong. I was not as compassionate as he thought, and I did not have that much going for me to start with.

"Will I be sixteen forever?" I ask softly. I had not meant to say it, but somehow the words tumbled from my mouth, anyway.

He looks at me sadly for a moment before conceding, "Yes."

It feels terrible and magnificent at the same time to hear those words. Terrible because I will never be a woman. Magnificent because I can finally quit fooling myself into thinking I may have a future. And something in-between because no matter how old I am, at least I'll have forever.

"Will I stay like this forever?"

"Yes."

I look away and stare out into nothingness.

"And, if you'll have us, you will stay with us forever."

I turn to look at Carlisle. I want to say, 'Why wouldn't I have you? You guys are amazing.' but in all honesty, I just want my family back. I want to return to the arms of my loving mother and my funny brother who I know to be loving and caring despite the fact that he tries to cover it up with his occasional snarls and insults.

"Thank you. For accepting me so easily." But I know they don't. I know that he might care about me because of everything I've been through and because he's unnaturally compassionate, but the rest? They don't even know me. Why would they care? How could they accept somebody into their family whom they don't even know?

"Of course," Carlisle replies, "you are one of us, now."

And though the words don't fool me, I know that to Carlisle, I am one of them, and that is enough for now.