{

"Damn it!" I cursed, holding my pricked finger up to my face. Blood gathered at the tip and I sighed in frustration.

I put the piece of clothing I was trying to sew together down and got up out of my chair, heading for the kitchen. The small, black and white TV was quietly playing on the counter as I turned the faucet on and washed my finger under cold water, watching the light-red water swirl down the drain. I switched it off once I was sure the wound wasn't still bleeding and reached up toward the overhead cabinets, searching for a band aid.

In my frustration, I accidentally tipped the small basket of medical supplies onto the floor and had to bend over to gather them back up. I huffed out a breath once I'd put all the supplies back, since it seemed we were out of bandages. I looked at my finger again, trying to decide if it was really a big deal or not that I didn't wrap it up.

As I was deciding, the TV started making beeping sounds. I turned around and stared at the too-small screen, trying to figure out what exactly it was making those sorts of noises for. I shuffled closer and leaned forward, reading the headline at the bottom of the screen – it was still on the news station.

BREAKING NEWS: ATTACK AT ARIZONA STATE CAPITOL BUILDING

}

-Chapter 2: Predator-

I took my time as I strolled down the sidewalk with my hood up and my head down. Night had fallen on Seattle a little under an hour ago, and I was still looking for the best place to set up. My technique was far from perfect, but I had spent enough time in Phoenix to know the sort of place to look for.

Luckily, the part of the city I was in was dangerous looking, in the sense that there was infrequent traffic and abandoned buildings were abundant. Graffiti was painted on many of the urban surfaces, adding much-needed color to the washed-out grey hue that was on everything.

A block and a half down the street, I spotted a black, male thirty-something-year-old walking my way wearing a hoodie much like my own. I was just about to pass an alley, which would have been dark and ominous-looking if I was still normal, so I slowed down, making sure the man caught sight of me. Once his eyes met my form, I ducked into the alley, cringing at the plethora of grime and garbage littered throughout.

I stashed my backpack at the end of the alley, behind a dumpster, and moved back toward the opening I had gone through. I could hear the man approaching faster than he had been walking – he seemed to be in a hurry to get over here. I was, as well.

It was my fault; of this, I will admit. I had been putting off…feeding as long as I could manage, and right now I was running nearly on empty. Usually I would make sure my victims deserved what I did to them, on some level at least. I didn't know if the guy I was about to murder deserved it or not, but I tried to convince myself that if he followed me into a dark alley, he couldn't be up to anything good. It still didn't make me feel any better, though.

The man's shadow crossed over onto the edge of one of the alley's walls and the footsteps were painfully close now. He was nearly there. My insides squirmed and writhed, shifting underneath my faux-skin. My stomach didn't growl – I didn't even know if I had a stomach any more – it was more of a global hunger. I felt it in every cell of my body as my temperature continued to drop and my metabolism slowed.

My body knew what to do as the man rounded the corner and stumbled into the alley with an excited look on his face. His eyes located my silhouette, but his eyes were too weak to find my own in the darkness. He opened his mouth to say something – 'hello,' or 'do you need help?,' or maybe 'you looked lost.' – but I didn't give him time to speak.

With inhuman speed, I grabbed him by his throat and swung him around behind me, driving us away from the opening of the alley and from anyone who might come across us while we were busy. He struggled, but I barely noticed as the flesh of my hands and arms shifted into this new version of me – the real me.

It was something out of a nightmare, and even now I tried to look away from my own appendages. My exposed insides were like lava – a black mass of twisting, muscular semi-solid interwoven with blood-red sinew. The black and red flowed and rippled where my arm used to be, leaving jagged shards glinting off the surface haphazardly as it tapered into my hands.

They really weren't hands any more, though.

They were claws. My fingers were hard and sharp like talons, though they were nearly a foot long and as sharp as a razor blade. The tips had embedded themselves into my prey's meaty shoulders as I held him against the wall. Blood flowed over my claws as the man gasped, his throat beginning to work up into a full-fledged scream.

I ripped my left claw out of the thin layer of muscle in his upper arm and palmed his face into the back of the wall, spurting more blood from under my hand where his face used to be. I dug my right claw out as well, and drove it straight into his torso, killing whatever was left of his dying body.

I allowed my body to move on its own, since it knew what to do. I pressed in close and my claws started to reform and melt as they began to weave a web of carnage inside his body. Tendrils erupted from my skin – all red and black – and they, too, dug into the cooling flesh in front of me.

With startling speed, the body began to shrink and dissolve as it was converted into acceptable tissue and absorbed into my body. The crawling sensation of energy flowing into me made me shiver in pleasure. My senses grew sharper and the haze that had steadily built up from the last time I fed faded completely, leaving my mind as sharp as my talons.

And then it was over.

Bits of unconvertible pulp, shredded clothing, a contorted knife, and a watch were all that was left of him. The twisting of my insides began to settle and my skin reformed, smoothing over into my familiar, pale complexion. The blood and gore that had splattered onto me sunk into my clothes and dissolved as well; nothing was wasted. I took a step back and rested against the opposite wall, bracing myself for the most unpleasant part of feeding.

Under my skin, on the back of my neck, a tingly sensation crawled up and into my brain, grabbing hold and making me double over on the concrete. I locked my jaw against the brain-scooping migraine, keeping myself from screaming as pictures and memories that weren't mine flickered through my head.

His name was Leroy Studt, and he grew up here in Seattle. He never knew his father; his mother died in childbirth – he was raised by his grandparents, who loved him very much. He had finished high school and was taking a break before he went off to a community college.

Times were hard and Leroy couldn't get a job, so he resorted to mugging. That's what he was about to do to me, so I felt marginally better; at least he wasn't a concerned citizen looking out for me. My guilt would have been infinitely worse if that were the case.

When my vision cleared, I was lying on the pavement where I had collapsed. I jumped to my feet and breathed deeply, appreciating the wholeness my body experienced. I gave my murder scene one last glance before I collected my backpack, slung it across my back, and leaped up to the roof of the building next to me. I darted across the rooftops for a couple blocks, eager to distance myself from the gore I left behind.

I was able to feed again that night when I came across a car thief. The powerful, warm feeling I felt afterward let me know I had made the right decision in glutting myself. I had no idea when the next time I could come to Seattle unnoticed would be, and I wanted to be sure I wouldn't accidentally kill Charlie. So, while I hated myself for forcing more carnage into me, I felt more secure.

Right now, it was nearly eleven AM, and I was running through the forest toward Port Angeles. I would hopefully get there in time to shop for some clothes before Charlie came to pick me up. It had been a long time since I had worn actual clothes and not this…this masquerade of a hoodie and jeans. Real clothes were impractical, sure, but they were normal; and that's what I was going for when I came to live here.

I broke through the tree line and slowed to a more normal jogging speed, making my way through the smaller city toward Walmart. A few people and cars gave me strange looks, as if they'd never seen a girl jogging with a backpack on, but I tried to ignore them.

I jogged right across the Walmart parking lot and ducked inside the sliding glass doors, pulling down my hood and nodding at the elderly greeter as he welcomed me to the store. I didn't bother with a cart; instead, I headed straight for the clothing section and began to look through the different shirts and pants.

The t-shirts were much cheaper than the jeans I was sorting through, so I picked three of those – a plain black one, a brown Star Wars themed one, and a dark green long-sleeved one. I picked up one pair of jeans and a light grey hoodie, which seemed to be a perfect match for the one I was 'wearing' now.

I nearly forgot to get shoes, but as I passed the limited collection Walmart had in stock I paused and started to browse. After a quick scan, I picked out a black-and-white pair of tennis shoes. They were a bit too sporty for my tastes, but I couldn't find any sneakers anywhere, so they would have to do.

I took my purchases to one of the checkout counters, glancing at the clock hanging on the far wall – 11:34; I had plenty of time. I put the clothing on the conveyor belt and swung my backpack off so I could get the money out of the side compartment. The dollars were crumpled from being jostled around so much, but they were still intact. I counted out the correct amount and handed them to the cashier.

Once my new clothes were bagged, I walked out of the first set of doors that led to the exit and went back to the entrance to the store, holding up my bag-full of clothes to the same greeter who had welcomed me as I entered the first time.

"I just have to change into the clothes I bought," I pointed my thumb in the direction of the restroom. The greeter nodded his assent and I smiled back, going into the restroom at the front of the store.

I entered the larger stall in the back and hung my backpack on the metal hook on the door. With a thought my pseudo-clothing I had been wearing melted back into my body, leaving me naked, save for my underwear I opted to keep since I didn't buy any.

I quickly dressed myself in the black t-shirt, jeans, and shoes, before I stuffed the other shirts in my backpack. I ripped the paper tag off of my new hoodie and slipped it on over my black shirt, zipping it up halfway and adjusting the hood at the back of my neck.

The Walmart bag and shoe box went straight into the trash can as I looked at myself in the mirror over the counter. I shrugged my shoulders, trying to get used to the feeling of clothing rubbing against my skin. It was a strange concept, since my appearance hadn't changed much, but it felt so…uncomfortable.

My…whatever it was that made me the way I am…it allowed me to change my appearance at will. This let me change my clothing as well – only, it wasn't really clothing. It was, well, part of me, for lack of a better term. It looked like I was wearing a hoodie and jeans, sure, but even the texture was strange – almost alien – and gave off heat like the rest of my body.

These new clothes felt frail like paper. From the mirror, I knew they fit me alright; they looked OK. But it felt like they were just hanging off of me. I stretched my arms and curled them, moving my limbs and testing the way the clothing stretched. I honestly kept expecting them to tear at one point.

My self-examination was interrupted by another shopper entering the restroom, shocking me out of my stare-down with the mirror and prompting me into action. I huffed, not quite finished with my analysis of why I felt uncomfortable wearing something so ordinary, and slipped out of the restroom with my backpack.

I felt a phantom blush settle in my cheeks and neck as I noticed the familiar police cruiser parked next to the curb as I stepped onto the sidewalk outside the supermarket. I ducked my head as I approached the car, smiling at my father through the passenger window before I opened the door and scooted inside the cab. Charlie started the car and pulled away, exiting the parking lot and heading onto the highway.

"Didn't know you were there yet, Bells," Charlie grunted. "You get here OK?"

"Oh," I turned my head to glance at him. "Um, yes, I did. I had to get a new hoodie for school – I also picked out a few shirts." Charlie nodded, keeping his eyes on the road.

My father was a quiet man who was sometimes awkward to be around – traits I had apparently inherited. His hair and eyes were the same shade as mine – brown on brown – though his hair was obviously shorter. His mustache made him seem gruffer; and maybe that's what he was going for, since he was the police chief of Forks.

The hour-long ride to forks was mostly silent as I looked out of the passenger window at the sea of green that flew by with more and more frequency as we went further into the Olympic peninsula. It was a comfortable silence, though, and neither of us felt any need to interrupt it with small talk.

As I looked back over at Charlie, I could see the wear and tear Renée's death had had on him. He still loved her, I was sure, and took her death nearly as badly as I had. We didn't talk about it often – in fact, the whole incident was best left forgotten as far as Charlie was concerned. I couldn't blame him for that.

"Oh," Charlie said suddenly as we reached the Forks city limit sign. "I almost forgot. I got you a car – well, a truck. Got a real good deal on it, too." My eyes widened.

"You didn't have to do that, Ch-dad," I replied. "I would have been fine walking."

"In Forks?" Charlie gave me a look. "Bella, I wouldn't have let you walk to school in the rain. Just…consider it a homecoming present."

I nodded grudgingly and went back to looking out of the window. It would do me no good to argue; and besides, a driving my own vehicle would be better than getting a ride with Charlie in his cruiser. I shivered at the thought of being dropped off in a cop car.

Eventually, we arrived at the house – my house, from now on. It looked much the same as it did the last time I was here; the pale paint job and the slightly-overgrown driveway were familiar. The ground was almost completely mud, and surrounded the entire building, spattering on the concrete foundation.

The fire-engine red truck that sat in front of the house brought a smile to my face as I climbed out of the cruiser and pulled my backpack from the back seat. It was a very old model, though I didn't know much about cars, and looked well-maintained. It was a good choice of a vehicle for me, all things considered.

Charlie showed me to my room and left me to my own devices after he informed me I would be starting school at Forks High on Monday. I would be a senior. Luckily, it was Thursday, so I had an extended weekend before I went back to the daily grind of normal life.

I laughed out loud at the thought of normal, though I was honestly looking forward to the monotony of it. This would be a good change for me.

End notes: Oh, wow; you guys must like this story or something. 13 reviews, 50 followers, and 21 favorites (as of this posting) for the first chapter. That's pretty awesome.

And yes, Bella's probably going to still be immune to mental powers. I'm not saying for certain, since I haven't gotten that far yet, but yes, more likely than not.