Don't own Twilight, New Moon, etc. But I do own Cassandra and Brandon Weiss and Andrew Dahlmier (even if the last two are dead). And I don't own he Toyota Corrolla brand name. There's a bit of 'coarse language' people so be prepared, and this is rated teen.

Blood Requiem

Part One: The Forthcoming

(CPOV)

I stood on the side of the road; bleak sky above me. It would rain soon, of course.

Eventually, a car came cruising don the highway, approaching me. A black Toyota Corrola; it stopped, and the window rolled down, revealing a man in about his mid-twenties.

He grinned widely. And I smiled back, directing my intense, purple eyes at him.

"Wanna lift?" He asked.

"Sure," I replied.

"Hop in." He said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder with his left hand, to the passenger's seat.

I loped around the front of the car, aware of his eyes on me.

I opened the door smoothly, slid into the seat, and shut the door with a thud.

"Where're you headed to?" He asked.

"The town just up ahead." I reciprocated.

"Ah, so where're you from?" He inquired.

"Around." All these questions were irritating me, but I didn't let it show; I had to get what I wanted.

He laughed at that, a bit more than was necessary.

"I came over from Seattle. So what's your name?" He looked intently at me.

"Cassandra." I responded, smiling slightly.

"Really? Pretty name." He smiled to me and placed a hand on me, probably expecting me to shove it off in disgust and then try to take my chances jumping from the moving vehicle. But I let his hand stay there, and I slid my arm across the back of his shoulders, fingers touching the back of his neck, secretly searching.

"And what's your name?" I asked, smiling genially. The car came to an abrupt halt.

"Brandon Weiss." His hand slid up my thigh an inch.

"That's a nice name, too." I said, placing my thumb and forefinger of the artery that pumped precious blood into his veins. Compression of this blood vessel would cut off circulation to the brain, depriving it of oxygen, resulting in death almost instantaneously.

I pinched and clamped down on the vein, and I felt Brandon Weiss seize slightly under my grip before going lax. He still had that stupid, pathetic smile on his face as the lights left his eyes. He slumped forward, the side of his head hitting the steering wheel, still turned, looking at me.

I brusquely brushed his hand off my knee with a quick flick of my wrist. I emerged daintily from the car to the driver's side, casually opening the door. I grabbed the limp form by the scruff of the collar, hauling him easily out of the car and past the ditch at the side of the road and into the thick brush and trees beyond. I swept my hands against each other and proceeded back to the car.

I clicked in (safety first—ha!), floored the gas, and was off, not at all concerned that I had just committed grand theft auto, and to add murder to the list, for about the fifth time in—...a long time.

It soon began to rain as I predicted, and in the rear-view mirror, I saw a flashing set of police cruiser lights. I slowly pulled over to the side of the road, idling. I knew this wouldn't take long. It never does. I had my hand ready in my pocket, feeling the sharp edges of the object concealed in my frayed jeans.

The cruiser parked behind me, and a heavy-set man emerged, seemingly ignorant to the rain. He walked to my window, which I promptly rolled down the window, my purple eyes flashing in the extremely muted light.

"What seems to be the problem, officer?" I doled out the classic line, smiling sheepishly.

"It seems that you were speeding, Miss." He eyed me, carefully, slightly staggered, I could see, by the color of my eyes. Most people are. I saw the metal tag pinned to his uniform: Police Chief C. Swan.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm not really used to this car, I'm borrowing it from a friend down in Seattle."

"May I see your driver's license, please?"

At that I quickly flitted out my hand to him, gripping the object. Chief Swan took the card and looked at my name and picture. No mistaking my eyes. The card said I was eighteen (ha, I really looked it, didn't I?) And didn't I look completely trustworthy? A little green and naive, too. It always worked.

He walked back to his car—after gesturing at me to not leave yet—to check it out in the system. Officer Swan quickly returned, handing me my card.

"You check out, just go a little slower, these roads are always wet." He chuckled slightly.

"Thanks, Sir." I rolled up the window and drove away, seeing him climb into his car and pass me on the road, heading in the same direction as me. After a while, I lost sight of him; and then I finally saw the sign: "Welcome to Forks."

The chill came then, strong as ever, like ice slicing jaggedly up my spine, making me straighten up slightly.

'So this is where its hiding?'

It was definitely here.

'That fucking monster that took him away from me! The monster that ruined this sadistic burlesque show that God — or whatever the hell else that pulls the strings — called life! It shouldn't even be called life for me without him, simply a damned existence. I'll massacre that loathsome thing, slowly and painfully, that ruined the one thing that made my existence endurable, I swear that THING will suffer for what it's done to me!

'Finally, after all this time, Edward Cullen, I'LL MAKE YOU PAY FOR KILLING HIM!'

My hands gripped the steering wheel hard, blanching my already white knuckles, as I fought the agony and rage that surged through me. I bit back a stifled scream at the tormenting memories of the only person I had ever truly loved; it came out as a sob.

I bit down harder onto my lip, making it bleed. I quickly drew a hand across my mouth to wipe it away. The cut then sealed up as if it had never been there. Distraught, I lifted my left hand from the steering wheel, curled my fingers into a taut fist and slammed it against the window. The glass shattered satisfyingly and shards of glass carved into my hand. The loose shards flew through the air behind the car, landing on the road, threatening to cut any foolhardy tires that might pass over them.

I knew I was breaking my promise to him, but I didn't care much anymore.

"No matter what happens to me, I want you to be good to yourself, don't hurt yourself, okay?" His words came floating back into my mind, still not forgotten over all these years.

"I'm sorry I've broken my promise, Andrew." I whispered to the steering wheel. It hurt to think about him. About what — who — I lost.

The cuts in my hand were already sealing up now, pushing out the bits and pieces of glass imbedded in my skin. The pain was going away, too. The pain was what I was really after. A distraction from the bigger pain—the wound to my heart. Unfortunately, that never got better. Wounds like those rarely ever do. I didn't see how they could.

I was coming closer to the town. Up ahead was a small — most likely seedy — motel. Good; I could get my bearings there. That bastard might be somewhere in Forks, but I needed to narrow it down, and form a plan. I wanted to hurt him as much as he hurt me. I know I haven't been the best... person? ... in my lifetime, but how could he take away someone like my Andrew?

Andrew was good, sweet. I didn't deserve someone like him; someone so wonderful. Andrew made everything in my life better. The best part of it, in fact. How could someone like Andrew — how could it be possible that someone like him could be taken away from the world like that? To be killed? I loved him so much, and he was just torn away from me so suddenly, so horrifically. It's an monstrosity!

I pulled into the weed-strewn gravel lot, finding ample space. I entered the small front office area. The withered old owner sat patiently at the desk, a small friendly smile on his face despite the melancholy creases that the years had worn into his skin.

"Hello, I'd like to get a room, please." I said politely. I sympathized for the man; I don't know why, some people just seemed like they'd been through so much in their lives. This old man was no exception, I could see.

"Hi there, miss. We've got a free room out front: number seven to the right." He smiled to me. His voice was small and waned like himself.

"Sounds good, thank you." I paid the man and lightly retrieved the key with a worn tag attached from his hand.

I slipped out the door and walked down the roofed porch to room number seven. I unlocked the door, the red paint was peeling and the once-bronze seven was now severely tarnished. I braced myself for the interior. It wasn't that bad: the bed was made, the lights and everything worked properly, and the place was relatively clean, even if the wallpaper was yellowed and coming off the walls. And to my relief, there were no signs of infestation of any kind (besides those of humans who previously stayed).

First thing's first: get cleaned up. I hadn't bathed in almost three days, and the minimal grime I had accumulated was uncomfortable. I plugged up the sink with the rubber stopper there and filled it up with hot water and a little soap. Next I peeled off my grimy clothes, removing my wallet and other items from my pockets, and shoved them into the sink, working out some of the dirt with my hands. These were the only possessions I had with me. I'd left everything else...there—home—after Andrew was murdered.

I then turned on the shower, letting it run till it got hot, then stepped in a scrubbed myself off with the funny-smelling generic soap in the soap holder sunken into the tiled wall. I used the minuscule bottles of shampoo and conditioner on my icy-blonde hair, grateful for the feeling of cleanliness.

Around fifteen minutes later, I emerged from the shower. I grabbed a towel from the pile of clean and neatly folded ones on a white chair outside the tub resting against the wall, and wrapped it around me, drying off. I checked my clothes to see that they were finished soaking. I wrung out my clothes tightly, squeezing nearly all of the water out of them. I hung them over the shower curtain bar to finish drying. I toweled off my hair with another towel from the chair.

There was a small, sparsely-stocked mini-fridge in the kitchen area. I grabbed a bottle of water and a package of raw beef. I popped off the cap from the water bottle with firm flick of my thumb, placed the bottle to my lips, tipped it back, and chugged 'til, all too soon, it was empty. A bead of water ran down my chin and I wiped it away with the back of my hand. I turned to the package of meat next. I didn't bother to think of cooking it, and ripped off the plastic wrapping and pulled out the first hunk of pink meat and I buried my teeth into it. I devoured the rest of the meat, in the end, my stomach was wonderfully full and I felt finally satisfied. It was the iron in the meat; you get more of it in raw meat than cooked. I returned to my clothes to find them completely dry now, and put them on. I combed through my hair with my fingers. It would have to do for now.

"Now, where would he be?" I asked aloud. I sat down tiredly in a lumpy armchair, fingertips pressed together. I bent my down, my hair enveloping me like a shimmering silver curtain.

'The woods?' I asked myself silently. 'No', came the answer; the feeling I got were a distinct 'no'.

'Hm... so, in town?' That question to myself was rhetorical, but I still received an affirmative. Yep, in town; but why would he come to a town with humans in it, well, —if—he was staying at least for an extended period of time, he must be able stave off from humans.

'So, monster, getting a bit of a conscience, are we? Regardless, I'll still get you back for taking Andrew away from me.' I thought hatefully.

'Does he have a house in the town?' I thought. The answer was confusing, so I went for a longshot.

'Does he work in the town?' Sort of.

Sort of? What's that supposed to mean?

'Oh, what, does he go to highschool or something?' I retorted skeptically.

The answer came, surprising me.

Yes.

'Well, well, well. Isn't that curious. I guess I'm enrolling, too, then.' I began formulating a plan with the new information.

'One last question then, I suppose. Is he alone?'

No.

"Hm. This is going to be fun. Watch out, Edward, I'm coming for you." I laughed mirthlessly.

'And the plot thickens.'

Muwahahaha! How do you like it so far? Sorry it took me so long. Review!