A/N: So sorry it has been forever since I updated. I have had barely any time possible ot work on it. As summer is ending, I have been INSANELY busy. I just had bandcamp this past week and I am doing all my summer work still I haven't finished. Wednesday, I am seeing RENT on broadway again because now Adam Pascal is back in it and I am in love with him. sigh. Well, here it is! I love reviews, even ones in the form of constructive criticism.

Disclaimer: If I owned Twilight, I wouldn't be doing this.

Sunday mornings were always my favorite. I would get to dress in my best clothes and have the warm pastries that were always lying on the table before I would go off to church with my family. I would wear some of my mother's perfume and they would show off Cynthia and I like we were the light of their lives to all of the other church goers.

I wore a simple white dress that flowed down to my knees with a red sweater over it. My long hair was secured in braids and my shoes were freshly polished. I sprayed some of my mothers lilac perfume on myself. I had slight bruises under my eyes because I have not been sleeping all that well. I figured that it was better to get no sleep at all then to fall into deep slumber and be haunted by the nightmares that caused my family panic.

The sun that shone through my window warmed my body. I closed my eyes and let myself feel the warmth of it without any distractions. The ends of my lips curled up and I began to fantasize of a world where my condition was normal and that everyone depended on it rather than fear it.

As I held my wrists up so the sun could warm them, my mother's voice called from the base of the stairs.

"Girls, we are leaving in five minutes. Come down here!" I heard Cynthia obediently close her door and skip down the stairs to join my parents in the foyer. I slowly opened my eyes, adjusting to the light. After making sure that I looked presentable enough, I took my time walking out into the hallway then down the staircase. I fingered the gold cross around my neck. It was smooth and it felt good to be reminded of something good.

In the foyer, my mother was straightening Cynthia's dress and pushing her hair out of her face. When she saw that I now joined them, she clapped her hands together and put a fake smile on her face.

"All ready to go?" My mother asked. I nodded and Cynthia muttered a quick 'yes' before my father opened the door for us. I followed my parents and my sister, but I was always two steps behind them, quietly in the background. I intended to stay that way. If I was as good as invisible, maybe my condition would go unnoticed and I could fall under the pretense of normal.

When I entered the old church, I followed my parents to the polished pews that we sat in every Sunday since I could remember. Before the service began, my mother chatted with some of the other ladies about the latest happenings with all the women in the church. I was not interested in conversation and I picked at my nails as I waited for the pastor to start the sermon.

We heard the beginning of a familiar song played on the piano and I stood up with the rest of the people attending the service that morning. I let my soprano voice glide over the melody played by the piano and closed my eyes, letting the words to the song flow out of my lips effortlessly. My voice blended with those around me and I began to let my mind wander to a place where I could be left in peace.

When I heard the ending chords from the piano fade, I opened my eyes and sat back down. I folded my doll-like hands on my lap and stared out at nothing in particular. Cynthia whispered something in my ear, but it did not register to me until she was back to where she was, facing forward and pulling at a loose thread on her skirt.

The pastor began the sermon. I could not be quite sure what he was discussing. I was only catching bits and pieces of it because of my fatigue. My mother glanced over at me to see if I was paying close attention to the sermon. I straightened my self up and bit my lip, focusing my eyes on the pastor and fighting the wave of fatigue so I could concentrate. Obviously, I must have been something that pertained closely to me because my mother and father both kept shooting eager glances at me after certain key phrases.

I felt that all too familiar feeling posses me. My face went blank and my eyes were dim. I was not sure if my parents noticed or not. I couldn't see anything around me. I was focused on the scene playing for my inside my mind.

There were the eyes again. She was locked in the dark, dank room. The plain face of the monster gazed at her with such ferocity, a chill went up her spine. Her tear stained face was covered in smudges and looked like it was a while since it was properly washed. Her voice was no louder than a whisper, the intensity lost from the constant screaming. Her eyes conveyed no sign of hope. She was so full of pessimism; you could feel it in the air. The red eyes followed her as she backed herself up to a corner and curled herself up into a fetal position. She emitted a whine but realized that no one would care and they were not listening to her cries any longer.

Suddenly, strong, cold arms created an iron cage around the petite girl and carried her away. The way the man ran, it was if she was flying with him. The wind whipped her and blew her short hair all over the place. She pressed her cheek against the granite body. The, they stop and he set her down on a forest floor. He crouched down over her and murmured a rushed "I love you. I am so sorry" and pressed his lips to her throat. His razor sharp teeth pierced her skin and she let out a scream.

All too quickly, the fire started swimming through her veins. The fire was more torment added to her already ominous life. She writhed in pain on the ground. The fire was in her neck. She wanted to clamp her hands around the base of her throat to try to subdue the pain but it was impossible. She could no longer control her movements.

"The fire! Put out the fire!" I screamed. Hot tears streamed down my face. I began to thrash wildly. I fell out of the pew and was writhing in agony on the floor of the church. My dress was up to my mid thigh and I threw my head back and let out another piercing scream.

"Please, somebody, stop the fire. Ahh, my neck. God save me!" I screamed and continued to feel the fire from my vision. It was burning my blood and drying myself. It was worse than acid destroying my body. It spread through me more and the burning increased.

Everyone in the church began to whisper and look at me. All heads were turned to see why I was causing such a commotion.

My father ran and scooped me up into his arms.

"Mary," he pleaded, his voice shaking. Sweat was trickling down my forehead and the muscled in my neck were strained. My teeth were clamped together to try and stop my screams.

As quickly as the vision and my fit started, I snapped out of it. My body went limp and I looked around me. All eyes were on my and mouths hung open in horror. I wiped my cheek with my hand and tried to get rid of the tears that were streaming from my eyes just seconds earlier.

"Wh-why is everyone looking at me?" I asked my father innocently. My mother raised her hand over her open mouth. My father took me by the hand and led me out of the sanctuary.

The service ended early on the behalf of my episode. The pastor called my parents into his office so he could discuss my episode with them.

Cynthia sat by me on the wooden bench right outside of the church. She placed a hand on my shoulder. People passed me and whispered about what could have happened. I heard what they were saying, but I kept my eyes down and focused on the blades of grass that were in dire need of being cut.

I did not know how long it had been. Cynthia and I were the only ones still sitting outside the church. My parents' voices chimed behind me; they were strained and my mother's sounded as if she was crying.

I tuned my head to look at their faces. It looked as if they were keeping a secret – a secret that could change me. I inhaled sharply and I followed my parents and sister, ready to go home.

I was back in my room; my place of solitude. I dashed up here as soon as I got home. My mother said she had to talk to me about what happened today, but she had yet to come upstairs.

I needed something that could occupy my thoughts until she came. I looked at a wooden dollhouse from when I was younger in the corner of my room. I examined the chipped, mint green paint and thought that I was much too old to be playing with dolls. I saw my point shoes strewn across my floor. I was not in a pleasant enough mood to dance. Typically, dancing cheers me up, but today I doubt that it would. I ambled over to my book shelf to try and find something interesting to read. I ran my finger across the titles over books that I have read two or three time and stopped when I hit a book without writing embossed on its spine.

I slipped the book out of its cozy place between the other two books. I opened it up and saw fresh, blank pages ready for the emotion to leak onto them. A faint smile traced my lips. Finally, I had some way to express all of the mixed emotions that were hitting me like a hurricane.

I threw myself onto my bed with a pen and the blank book in hand. I opened to the inside cover and, in elegant script, wrote my name. I turned to the first page and began to scribble anything and everything that came to mind.

My door swung open, revealing my mother.

"Mary Alice, I think I need to have a word with you."