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Chapter Three

There was something to be said for the warm sun and the Mediterranean air. It only took 3 days in Italy for me to begin feeling a change in myself. It almost felt like for the past few years I'd been submerged, drowning in my memories and my trauma. And now, in this new land, this fresh life, I could finally breathe again.

I found myself incredibly glad that I was under no time constraints, I hadn't booked a return ticket to the States yet. I was living out of my large rucksack, travelling and moving from place to place, booking into cheap hostels. I could afford to travel like this for several months, after the many years I'd spent saving every single penny I possibly could, waiting for this moment.

After beginning my trip in Lake Como, my inspiration took me south to Verona, then onto Bologna, stopping off in small villages and towns in between. I filled nearly three sketchbooks to the brim just in those first two weeks.

I immediately fell in love with Florence the moment I had stepped off the rackety, cramped bus that I'd been travelling in for several hours. I'd spent two days straight wandering around the Uffizi, taking my time as I absorbed all of the artworks and the numerous cultural masterpieces. Of course, I made time to go and visit Michelangelo's David at the Galleria dell'Accademia. Not sure what it says about me as a person, when all I could really focus on were his less than impressive genitalia, even though the sculpture was truly stunning.

It was at the beginning of my fourth week, as I was wrapping up my time in Florence, that I found it. I was perusing a map, marking out my next leg of the journey and looking at the smaller towns and cities near Florence.

Volterra. Just southwest of Florence. According to a local guidebook I managed to pick up, Volterra was a small walled town with medieval frescoes, stunning architecture and beautiful ruins. I couldn't deny that my attention was a little piqued by the more popular attractions in the town; the Volterra Museum of Torture, Guarnacci Museum, and Palazzo dei Priori.

Everything I had read suggested that this little town would be something that appealed to me. It was only the small nagging feeling in the back of my brain that had me on edge.

That girl, Doctor Cullen's daughter. She had been so insistent about this place, bordering almost threatening. She left a queasy feeling in my stomach, my anxiety sending twinging pains shooting through my left shoulder. I still had a bruised wrist from her hard grip, the purpling handprint had faded a little, however to any who saw it the mark was still clear as day. Although it was a bit of a nuisance in the Mediterranean heat, I had taken to keeping it wrapped in the bandage.

Volterra.

I shook my head firmly. I couldn't let one girl ruin my holiday. If I wanted to go to Volterra, it wasn't because of some weird white girl I met in the hospital.

The bus ride from Florence to Volterra ended up taking just an hour and a half, improving my mood tenfold, as on the map I'd anticipated the journey being far longer. But the trip was made all the better the moment I stepped off the bus, and immediately fell in love with the town.

I was so lost in my admiration that when a middle aged woman shoved into me, I was pushed off balance and headed directly to the cobbled pavement. I yelped, jamming the palms of my hands out in front of my body, to catch myself against the cobblestones, instead of doing a full face plant.

The hard impact against the stone was jarring against my left shoulder, my old wound flaring up painfully. I glanced down to see my palms scraped and tender.

"For fucks sake!" I groaned. "Watch where you're going!" I struggled as I pushed myself up off the floor, focusing on supporting my weight with my right arm. I swear, one of these days I need to buy myself a fluorescent jacket, if that's what it'll take for people to actually see me and walk around me, like a normal human being.

I tossed my head, shifting my curls out of my face, the large mass of hair bouncing gently around me. Through my hair, I could see the middle aged lady bending down slowly as if to help me, yet at the rate she was moving, I'd probably die of old age by the time she actually reached me.

"Seriously." I eyed her in disbelief, and pulled myself up from the floor. As soon as I was back on my slightly wobbly feet, the woman immediately started moving again, straightening herself up and blinking owlishly between me and where I had fallen on the floor.

"But you were? I don't... How did...?" The woman stared at me in confusion, her head practically spinning. She pointed an aged, sun spotted hand at me. "How did you do that?"

"Do what? Stand up?" The irritation in my voice bled through my words, as I readjusted my grip on my large rucksack.

"Well, no! But you..." She bristled at me. "You were down there, and then you weren't!" Her large, bug eyed sunglasses slipped down her beaky nose. I couldn't help but roll my eyes.

"Look, lady." I sighed, beginning to feel the heat. "You probably just lapsed in concentration. I mean, you clearly weren't paying attention when you smacked me into the floor, hm?"

I left the woman spluttering and squawking indignantly as I moved off in search of shade.