I think about it almost every night…us…our lives. I don't regret, I don't hate what I am anymore. Now that I know we can love the same as humans, I know we have souls. It started in 1935, in the fall. Oddly, the time passed quickly, but at the same time, there's a lifetime of memories…
When I killed Royce and his friends, I stopped hating him, to some degree. But I never stopped hating myself. I wasn't blessed with such beauty, but cursed. My looks made others believe I was the lovely young woman I looked like, instead of the monster I was. I loved Carlisle, Esme, and even Edward, at times, but they couldn't understand. They could never see why I hated myself so. Running at lightening speed, I raced away, far away, from the little lodge we inhabited in the forests of Appalachia. We moved from Rochester, my home, only two weeks ago. I had said goodbye, and taken care of the men who led me to this sort of half life… I guess it was just time to move on. At that point, two years after I was changed by Carlisle, the fall of 1935, the biggest sadness in my life was my lack of my own family. I had a family, but I would never have the child I so desired, and most likely never be with a man I loved. As the sun rose above the evergreen trees, the clouds looked painted pink. It was sort of funny, how relaxed I was at that moment. Ironic, really. When I hunted, I was at ease. I could let loose. Of course, it also symbolized my hatred of what I was. There was no sound, no humans, for miles and miles…or so I thought. I let my mind wander, back to that terrible winter night in 1933…
When I left from my best friend, Vera's, home, I felt the slightest tinge of unease, irrational, maybe, but it was there. My recent revelation plagued me. I saw Vera kiss her husband. It wouldn't have mattered, but it was the way he kissed her. Royce King never kissed me like that. While Vera wasn't nearly as beautiful as me, and her husband was only a carpenter, she had two things that I was genuinely jealous of. Her beautiful baby boy, Henry, and her undying love for her husband. I had a fiancée in Royce, but not somebody who truly loved me. I hoped that someday, I would have a child as perfect as hers. Huge, innocent pool blue eyes, curly black hair, fair, rosy cheeks. Although I was trying, it was difficult to control my jealousy towards my best friend since childhood. My thoughts were jerked from Vera, and directed at the snowy road ahead of me when I heard Royce call my name. He was obviously drunk, as were his four friends who were with him. I only recognized Royce and Jackson Lively out of the group. They looked perfectly put together in their wool trench coats, so hard to find these days, but looking into their eyes, I knew they had just stumbled out of Carl's Bar. After that, it started and ended so soon. Wishing I had arranged a ride, I shuffled towards them slowly. At first, they simply talked to me. I didn't mind if they weren't being respectful. But then, it went so badly, so quickly. My jacket was torn off, and as it hit the icy December ground, I thought it would all end with this. Praying didn't help me as it all went on, but I would be willing to forget it all if they just let me go…when they left, I lay there, feeling as insignificant as I thought possibly. No tears came. I was ready for death…it would take away the pain. I never knew the pain was just beginning. Dr. Carlisle Cullen, one of the most respected doctors at Rochester General Hospital, ran towards me at alarming speed. In shock, I didn't know what to think. And the next thing I knew, I was at his huge brick mansion only a few streets down from where my own home was. Because of Royce King II, I am who I am today. The heavy wind brought me back to reality.
I smiled grimly. He really did deserve to die. Continuing through the thick coating of late autumn leaves, I looked around at my surroundings as I passed them. The last of the leaves were falling off the trees, most of them, the old maples and oaks. Sadly, I noticed the pines. Like me, they never changed. Forever young. Winter would come to the little mountain community of Clark, KY, and even this area of Tennessee I ran through, soon enough. My winter would never come. It would always be spring. While that should make me happy, it didn't. To lose the ability to age, and die, is loss of all normality. I was ripped from my melancholy pondering at the sound of a scream ringing through the chilled November air. Not just a pained scream, or fearful scream, but a heart wrenching, tortured cry. I knew it was a man, by the rugged deepness of the voice, but even when screaming, the voice was musical. Luckily, I heard it before I smelled it, thus giving me time to prepare myself. Holding my breathe I gripped the tree beside me to keep myself from running towards the poor human. I had never killed a person out of thirst, and I didn't intend to start. The smell was sweeter than other humans I had encountered, but that wasn't what drew me to him. As I ran the two miles to the clearing, I truthfully had no idea what made me go to this man. Something took hold of me that day. Call it fate, luck, whatever. The important thing was-- it happened.
With each step, I knew I was getting closer, and for some reason, I felt that this day would make a difference in my eternal life. When I finally made it to the small field, I stopped abruptly, grabbing onto a large rock this time to control myself. The odd part was, I didn't need it. From the second I saw the human, there was no way I could hurt him. The clearing was unremarkable in itself. No beautiful flowers, or breathtaking views of the surrounding mountains. It was the scene unfolding before me that made me unable to take my eyes off the tiny meadow. First, I saw the bear, drenched in blood, the man's blood. What had provoked her? There were no cubs around, and although he wore hunting gear, his bag and rifle were not by his side. The gargantuan creature stepped aside a bit, and I caught my first glimpse of the dying mortal. Seeing him made me gasp, literally. He was the spitting image of Vera's baby—Henry. Obviously, it was not this child. He was quite large—very muscular, and surprisingly trim. He would surely tower over me at what I guessed to be a height of around six-four. His short, curly black hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, from exertion. His cheeks were a healthy pink, similar to Henry, and although his eyes were barely open, I could tell that they were blue—pool blue. His most dominant facial feature may have been his dimples, again, just like the child. Even when he was grimacing in pain, I could tell they were there. Although he looked so very much like the little boy, who would've been around three years old at that time, it was different. His face was sculpted, with the strength of a man, and a young one at that. He couldn't have been older than his early twenties. As I looked at him, I fought back the dry sob that nearly escaped my lips. So young, so perfect, and so suffering.
After quenching my thirst, with the bear dead, I crept over to him, almost as if, on some level, I was afraid he would wake up if I was too loud, and no longer need me. When I looked at the man again, a strange feeling crept into my stomach, one I had yet to feel as a human or immortal. It was relieving, yet unsettling. And then, I realized what the peculiar feeling was—I was falling in love with this simple human man, without even knowing him. But I didn't have time to stare. What should I do? What could I do? I knew that if I let him die, I could never forgive myself, and "never" was an awfully long time for me to feel guilty. Carlisle. Of course, Carlisle would know what to do. I could bring him back to the house. But it would be tricky. I was almost 100 miles from home. Naturally, his weight would be a non issue. There was no way I could leave him. I picked him up in my arms with very little effort, holding his head up like a small child, and ran back in the direction of home. Surprisingly, it was relatively easy. Could I get an adrenaline rush? He was covered in small cuts and bruises, and had several deep gashes along his arms and shoulders, but I could see how handsome he was. It occurred to me then that the damage was quite bad, possibly irreparable—he was bleeding to death. Until that point, I didn't think of exactly what I expected Carlisle to do. But I quickly realized it. Not an hour before, I had been wondering how anybody could be happy like this, and now, here I was, about to ask that this wonderful person be turned into a vampire? What had taken hold of me? Unexpectedly, his eyes shot open, and stared at me. How innocent they looked, almost out of place on a man.
"An angel?" he whispered, barely audible. I detected a hint of a smile on his face. I was right, he did have lovely dimples. Staring back at him, I sighed, with pleasure? After Royce, I was always cautious around humans, especially men. But even then, I was certain he would never hurt me…