October 30th,

It's so quiet here. Vampires make no noise when they walk, unless they wish it, so I'm constantly being taken unawares. Renata knocks, so as not to frighten me, but she's kind. Everyone else gives me the chills. Sometimes, when using the bathroom (Heidi calls it "the lavatory"), I catch sight of them; wraith-like figures on the walls. It's enough to give one nightmares. Sometimes I recognize them—Caius, Demetri, or one of the children. More often than not it's a stranger, with a pale face that slips through my memory. These terrifying unknowns are a daily experience for me, along with other sweet surprises Aro undoubtedly has planned.

Four more days. My burns are healing. The cuts are nonexistent. The very fact that I've survived this long gives me fresh strength.

You're ok, I tell myself. You're alive. You have two people you can trust, and that's more than one usually finds in hell. Inhale. Exhale. Breathe…

November 1st,

He's back.

Renata was in my room late this evening, and it didn't take long for the ice to freeze on my spine.

"He's back."

When she first spoke, my scream sounded stifled. "He can't be back. He can't be." That's what I said. Repeatedly. Until that point, I don't think I realized what a nervous wreck I'd become. Once sarcastic and controlled, I was now a raving sufferer, induced to tears at the slightest provocation.

This was no exception.

"You must understand," she pleaded, trying to calm me. "You must believe me. I had no part in this. You know that, don't you?"

"Oh, stop it, Renata!" I cried. "Of course I do!" I gnawed my fingernails. "Why is he back? I can't... It's too soon."

"Relax, Aster."

I squeezed her hands, cold as they were. "You have to delay him somehow. You have more voice than I do. Ask Aro… he will listen to you…"

She sighed. "It's not that simple, Aster—"

"Yes, it is!" I was frantic. "If he comes for me again, I'll die! Is there any simpler way to put it?!"

"You don't know that."

I shoved away from her, walking towards the bed. I felt like bashing out my brains on the bedpost. Renata followed me.

"Maybe I'm wrong," she admitted. "Maybe it will be longer than I thought until he sends for you. Caius was in a sour mood, Aster, when he returned. I overheard him talking to Aro. Apparently, he'd gone to help an acquaintance, but it ended up not being worthwhile. They really didn't need him at all." She shrugged. "I don't understand it. Our kind are not so careless."

"Perfect," I groaned. "He's not just back, but he's in a bad mood."

"Let me finish! Since torture is one of Caius' favorite pursuits, why would he want you if he's so displeased? I've seen him like this before. He mostly sulks by himself, snapping out at everyone. He doesn't do torture."

I turned to her slowly. "Are you sure, Renata?"

"I'm only telling you what I've noticed." She held my hand. "I'm trying to give you hope."

I squeezed her hand in return. "Let's hope you're right," I said.

She smiled. "That's better."

My sleep was still uneasy, but her words helped. I'm trying so hard to convince myself, I've almost completely succeeded. Maybe I'll be left alone for now.

November 2nd,

Another item for that stupid list:

- vampires have no central heating

It is growing so cold here. This morning, when I reached for the mug of water by my bed, a large glob of ice smacked me in the lip. It still feels tender. I'm telling you, if it weren't for this diary, I think I would have gone raving mad by now. I'm never unsure of the date, and I have someone (or something) to talk to when there's no one else.

I know I've only seen him several times, but… I miss Aro's brother, Marcus. The last time I saw him, he was disappearing out the door, avoiding what I was forced to see. I wish he could have taken me with him. I wish he visited more often. Perhaps he regrets befriending me. From the way he reacted to my injuries over a week ago, I can only surmise he doesn't want to see me. It hurts him too much, probably, to see me like this.

Then again, I can't complain. My burns are almost healed, although I will certainly have permanent scars. Aro has not visited me, and the bites have had time to close over. They still hurt me, though. Sometimes I'll wake at night, stiff with the cold, and they'll be throbbing, as if begging to be opened again.

For heaven's sake, Aster, you say. Are your thoughts really that morbid?

Much later…

It's no use. I can't sleep. I long to ask Heidi for another blanket (perhaps two), but she's literally dropped all communication with me now. Maybe I can persuade Renata to steal one for me…?

But the cold isn't the only reason I'm awake. I've been thinking, which is extremely dangerous, considering what my life has been for the past couple months.

I've been thinking about Mom.

I've never told you about her, have I? Yet I seem to remembering promising it awhile back (funny, but it feels like centuries now). It hurts to mention her and my dad, but what can I do? It keeps my mind away from Caius. If I picture my mother's face, sweetly concerned for me, than maybe I won't see those horrible eyes.

Like I said, my mom's name was Michelle. Her name was Fields before she married my dad. She was an only child, like me. I never saw my grandparents on her side. They disapproved strongly of her marriage to dad, as it took her away from her studies at the university. Not that she was pregnant with me—my dad was too honorable for that—but she was afraid that if she waited, he would marry some gorgeous Columbian maiden with tresses of raven hair to her waist. That was nonsense too, of course. My dad never loved anyone but my mom. I was so young when they died, but love can have such a powerful impact growing up, just as abuse can. I can't remember them quarreling. Ever. I know, I know. I sound like I'm bragging. Wouldn't you?

My dad was beautiful, but my mom was even more so. I've often wished I inherited her physical traits. She had these stunning green eyes—emerald, almost—and when she smiled they would light up, dancing about like fireworks. "Just about made your heart stop," I remember my dad telling me. Her skin was tan, although not as dark as his, and her hair… Oh, she had such beautiful hair. It was straight as mine, but glossy, not dull. And it was as fair as ours was black. Like sunlight skipping across an ocean.

She was kind. She was… radiant. I can't think of a different word. If my dad was the sun, then she was the light. If I believed in any angel, she was the perfect model for one. She gave me her name, and I didn't feel worthy of it. Because I wasn't her. No one could be her. She was irreplaceable.

Oh, crap. I just screwed up this page. This isn't the first time I've cried while writing, but it's the first time I've cried while writing of her. I regret this already, this pain. But… it's there, isn't it? She's there, on the page, smiling at me. Thank God, she's whispering. Hang in there, lovie.

When I saw my parents after the crash, I was terrified that I would remember them that way forever, and forget anything else. But Fate was in my favor. As the years went by, that broken image of them has faded. I see them better than ever before. When my face was branded, or my raw skin stung from the whip, I saw them. The worse the pain, the clearer their love. It's something to look forward to, I suppose. However damaged I am in the future, I can still hope to see them. It's a tearful consolation.

Oh, and just for the record, Mom? You can call me Michelle.