September 9th,
"Be positive." Yes, that is what my parents would have said. True, I was an invariably positive child, despite the sarcasm. It shows through, here in my diary. It keeps me sane, especially with everything that's been going on lately. Of course, thanks to Renata, that hasn't been too bad.
Who is Renata? She is Aro's guard. A ludicrous idea, but perhaps these vampires have weaknesses I don't know about. I smirked when she told me. How lovely, I thought, to be a powerful vampire, flanked and attended by beautiful women. She is an exquisite, sprite-like little thing, with large, almond-shaped eyes and short black hair. She only comes up to my chin, but her voice is that of an experienced adult. She shocked me a little this morning, poking her tiny face around the door.
"Good morning," she said. Her accent was slightly Italian, like Aro's. "You are awake?"
"Yes," I grunted. I was brushing out my hair, forcing the knots into place.
"Let me help you," she said. She took the brush from me, and quickly fixed it with her nimble fingers. A fragment of dust was brushed off of my sleeve, and she backed away from me again.
"Thanks."
"You are welcome," she smiled.
I looked at her closely. "Who are you? I don't think I've ever—"
"You haven't," she finished. "I rarely join in the feeding. I and several others have our meal in different rooms." She spoke pleasantly, with careful English, as if we were discussing the weather. "My name is Renata."
"That's pretty," I said. So much for apathy.
Her little teeth glinted again. "Grazie. You are Aster, yes? Aro has told me about you. I am his guard—his 'right-hand,' if you will. If you ever want anything important or have any message for him, you have only to ask me."
I nodded. "He sent you here?"
"Yes. I am to see if you're comfortable." She nodded at my breakfast tray. "The food is to your liking?"
"It's excellent."
"Do you require anything?"
Freedom, perhaps? "Nope."
"Very good." Her child-like face lit up. "Aro will be pleased. He is indeed anxious to satisfy his guests." Ignoring my probing glance, she walked to the small closet and sorted through the contents. "This clothing should suffice. Now, if you'll follow me, I will show you some other things."
I followed her, stifling a laugh. It was so odd, being directed about by such a little girl, vampire or not. She was scarcely taller than Jane.
"I was born around the 1240's," she said suddenly. She looked up at me. "What about you?"
Did I say 'little?' "Um… 1990."
"You are 18, then?"
"Yes."
She smiled. "Technically, I win by two years. I was changed when I was twenty."
"Twenty?" I stared at her.
She reached up, patting my shoulder. "I'm not offended, dear. I know I'm short for my age. But remember, you are tall for a woman, even in this century. Height was much prized in my time."
I swallowed my amazement. "I see. So… you're Italian, right?"
"Yes." She chattered on, politely ignoring my questions about her master. I admired her, although grudgingly, for protecting his secrets, of which she must know a lot.
"This is the bathroom." She opened a small door only one corridor away from my room. I peered at the hole cut into the wood and grimaced. It looked like something the Romans used. The opening was uncovered and went down a considerable distance.
Renata read my face. "It may seem crude," she apologized. "But it is all we have. We do not have visitors as often as you think."
"I never thought that," I murmured. "No one tells me anything."
Her dark eyes met mine, but they were silent. "We shall go back now," she said softly.
I sighed. This place felt more bizarre by the hour. When we reached my chamber again, she halted, looking up at me again. "Do not go out alone," she whispered. "Many immortals wander these halls, and my master cannot always keep track of who visits here. You are safe in this room." She touched my hand timidly, her skin ice-cold. "It was nice to meet you, Aster."
"Wait," I called, as she turned away. "I'm sorry, but I still don't understand. I'm just to sit here, doing nothing, until Aro feels like visiting me?"
She frowned. "I don't know. You must be patient."
"Yes, but for how long?"
She smiled, sadness mixed with compassion. "You refused his offer, didn't you?"
I glared at her, but she didn't see it. She was already gone, the ghost of her shadow barely visible.
September 11th
I shouldn't have gotten upset with Renata. I think she truly wants to help. She came back again today, offering to "show me around." I doubted there was much to see, but I agreed anyway. My boredom was growing intolerable. We walked around the citadel (or whatever it is) for at least an hour. It was far more interesting than I'd believed. I was able to take myself out of my misery a bit, examining the delightful art the Volturi had to offer. Some of the works actually had names, though I recognized but few. I remember smiling to myself. They had an appreciation for this, at least.
The only unpleasant part of the tour was when Renata led me down a long, dimly-lit hallway. I recognized the strange, curling designs, and my stomach heaved. Renata watched me sympathetically as I retched, seizing the arm of a nearby statue for support. It was only when the dizziness cleared I realized I'd soiled the stone feet of the statue, which had the inscription "Lucillus Brutus," written across it.
I looked at Renata, mortified. "I'm so sorry."
"That's all right," she said gently. "It could happen to anyone."
"Yeah right," I groaned. I looked again at the statue, wondering if it would come to life and condemn me, seeing as I'd barfed my lunch all over its sandals…
"The Romans were a disgusting lot, I've heard," she remarked lightly. "Don't fret about it."
I let out a chuckle, and so did she. It was all so silly. There I was, already laden down with more troubles than I could handle, and I was worrying about a stupid statue…
Later…
I'm still laughing over that incident. Heidi, who brought me my dinner just now, gave me an odd look. "You feeling alright?" she asked. As if I am not permitted to laugh. As if I am a fool to feel giddy in such a dark situation. This makes me laugh even more.
Oh, God, what have I gotten myself into? It's my uncle's fault, I know, but somehow I feel that maybe—if I'd done better in life, or had a stronger disposition—maybe this wouldn't have happened. I could've insisted on not coming to Italy. I could've demanded succor from my aunt. Then again, she always listened to my uncle… inevitably. And he had no affection for me. I'm sure of that now. He left with my two cousins, leaving behind a deceased wife and a niece who would have given him love if he'd only looked for it…
I pound the wall with my fist. "What the hell, Uncle David?!" I want to scream. "Was it so hard? Could we not have died together? Do I mean so little to you? Do I mean so little to the entire world?!" These questions never end.
I'm not laughing now.
