From the floor above I can hear the murmuring below. I can feel their exclamations of surprise and judgement. They are probably admonishing my father who died of bad blood. He was a mortal after all. Even though he did have vampire heritage. He could not escape the grips of mortality and the welcoming hands of death.

A part of me yearns death. I do not know if I am immortal or not…it seems strange to me if I was. I am from a diluted bloodline. My mother says that I age slow in body and mind. That is why I am of a short height or, "Maybe the world is really big," I murmur in my dark room as I sit on my plush bed.

The best part of my room is my bed. I can escape into worlds of colour whenever I wish. Here in Forks the land and air feel so damp and wet. My socks are always wet, or maybe it is my shoes with holes in them.

I hate many things in this life, the biggest one being change. It is exhausting hating change really. Change is this big monster that chases after me and no matter how fast or hard I run it is inevitable that I will get caught and be suffocated in its sharp claws that hold me as I experience a metamorphosis.

If only I could bite change and make change no longer exist with my venom, "Is that even possible?" I murmur, as I look at my open closet holding my clothes. Wishing that I had venom.

When I was little I remember hiding in my closet and fearing to reveal myself from the shadows it was always dark in my closet. I liked that. I like the dark. That is the best part about Forks, "It's dark," I murmur to my open window.

A part of me is intrigued about the heated conversation going on downstairs. It would be stupid though to try and sneak up on a coven of vampires. They probably have super hearing like my mother.

I know the story anyway. My mother told me. I considered it a bed time story once, a comforting cold bedtime story that embraced me like a cold, comforting winter wind.

I have always been fascinated by death. The great unknown. A cosmic forest, that beckons. All of life has to visit the forest of death at some point. I know my father visited it or is visiting it. My mother told me about the story after the First World War in Europe she was helping her brother heal. Her brother decided to turn a boy of seventeen who was dying of the Spanish Influenza. They travelled together for a time before moving to America.

In Texas they met a vampire who was fleeing from a path of bloodshed. He was also an empath. I would have liked to met him. We have something in common. We are both empaths. An exhausting gift really. My tidal emotions are already washing over me. When I step outside it is as if I am being drowned by others. Did he feel like that? Jasper I think was his name.

Anyway my mother with her brother, a newborn named Edward and a newborn named Jasper made their way across the country. Somehow they ended up in Ohio and my mother was helping to treat a sick baby. Who eventually died. I do not know if a dying baby is tragic or not. On the one hand it is a life that never got to live. On the other hand it is a life that was saved from this miserable world. A life that never got to experience hate or pain. Contrarily, a life that never got to experience love.

It was probably more painful for the mother. She carried this life within her for nine months and nurtured it and cared for it. Death comes in and takes the cherished life from her who was in part an extension of herself.

"I wonder if the baby is still in the dark forest, or is it somewhere else. Where are you baby?" I murmur, to the specks of light peaking above the soaring mists of clouds.

Anyway, back to the story. After my mother's brother turned the mourning mother into a vampire. I will back up, the mourning mother tried to kill herself and was dying from her injuries. He (my mother never speaks of her brother's name,) anyway, he turned her. My mother did not like this at all.

She told me that they would argue all the time over the stupidest things. She said that even though she has an eternal life she does not want to spend it with them. So they parted ways and my mother returned to Europe.

This is where things change, become spooky. My uncle I suppose is a full vampire. He got turned the traditional way. However, my mother got cursed. She was only a full vampire if she did not find a mate and fell in love. When her and her brother the venom made her have a untraditional reaction lets call it.

When she was without her brother she felt weaker. She also had a hunger for human blood. This was in the 1930's the Second World War was starting. She chose to become a nurse. She was healing a very charming soldier and they eventually fell in love. She told me that her blood sung to him. She fell in love with his blood. She could hear the liquid life flowing through him when he laughed. She could hear it roar like a rapidly flowing river when he got angry. One day, she had a yearning to taste it. She did and she could not stop feasting. She drained him. She did not want him to wake up in a cursed life so she burned him and vowed to herself to never let her heart be alight. Something happened though when she mated with him. She lost a part of herself her skin was becoming warm to the touch. Small things every time she laid with a mortal she would lose certain stereotypical vampire characteristics.

Until one day fourteen years ago her womb awoke. She experienced a monthly flow from within her. She told me about it because well at that time, she met her true mate, whose blood did not sing to her. She told me that my father awoke her and breathed life into her as if she was waking up from a deep sleep. She did not thirst or hunger for him. She was in the northern part of Europe at this time living amongst reindeer. She told me that I was conceived under the flowing ethereal lights of the northern lights. That is why my middle name is Aurora.

My father had a secret though. He had vampire heritage. Now what that means is that his coven had certain power survival instincts to keep the lineage continuing. Under certain circumstances his coven's male vampire sperm becomes alive for a lack of a better word and he experiences some sort of heat. On that night well, both of my parents were in heat I guess.

That is how I became the freak I am. I do not know if it is spooky. I guess the idea of me being with a man is spooky. I do not like men nor do I like the idea of being in a relationship. "I am fourteen years old for Dracula's sake!" I harshly whisper to the open hallway.

I am being pulled to where…"I don't know," I hear myself murmur.