A/N This chapter is a real turning point in the story. I want to tell you so bad what happens, but I can't. It's killing me! Read on to find out, before I lose my mind, LOL..

"The weather pleasant up there, Sophia?"

I grinned down at Taylor from my place in the oak tree in the Windhams' backyard. I had decided to take advantage of the rare sunny day, returning to my childhood passion of climbing trees. Mr. Windham had taken the boys out, and Mrs. Windham was on another cleaning-house rampage. Mother, after bearing no fruit in her attempt to convince Mrs. Windham that she should help her, gave up and retired to her room for a nap. Good, I thought. I could just imagine her face becoming indignant as she registered her only daughter, doing the least proper thing possible, climbing a tree. Oh, the shame.

I was feeling happier than usual. The weather had something to do with it, but there was more. I felt, after two years, that I could finally be at peace with myself. That I could think about my deceased family without feeling as if I had lost my entire life. Of course, I had, in a way. The life I knew was gone, replaced by something new, comparable to a phoenix being born from the ashes. I could never completely get over what I had lost, no one could. I still cried myself to sleep some days. But I was getting better. Everyone noticed. A few days ago, Mother had pointed out to me that my clothing choices were gradually getting more cheerful. I had looked down at my pink sundress in surprise, noticing for the first time that I had strayed from my usual dark-colored dress. Then, surprising Mother, I had laughed, a laugh that was full of relief and hope. I was getting better, slowly but surely.

"It is better to remain silent and be thought of as a fool than to open one's mouth and remove all doubt," Abraham Lincoln had said, years before. I did the most foolish thing imaginable next by opening my mouth.

"Why don't you come up here and find out? The first one to the top wins. Or are you too scared of watching your dear sister beat you?" I teased my brother. His eyes sparkled with willingness at the challenge presented to him. He smirked and started climbing. I waited for him to get to where I was, and then the competition began.

I was ahead of him most of the way up. However, as we started getting closer to the top, I had to be more careful to not get my dress caught in a little branch. That caused Taylor to get in front of me. But I was more experienced in navigating through the thinner branches, stepping gracefully from one to another, making sure to only step on the part closest to the trunk. I soon gained back my lead, hearing a snap and a thud behind me as Taylor broke a branch and landed on his feet on the thicker one beneath. For good measure, I pulled a few leaves from the tree and threw them below me, into Taylor's face.

"Hey!" he yelled. I giggled, and then tried to remember when that sound had last come out of my mouth. This felt like old times.

Finally, I made it to the top first. I turned around, victorious.

"What did I say, Tay? I told you that I was goin—"

It happened so fast. First, I was standing on the topmost branch of the tree, that I could stand on, at least. Next, I heard a distinct snap. Then, I was falling. And then I found myself on the ground in utter pain.

Taylor scrambled down the tree and hovered over me. "Are you alright? Where are you hurt?" he asked anxiously, practically shouting his questions. "Can you get up?"

"No," I moaned. It was true. It felt as though at least one of my legs was broken, along with an arm or two. Those as well as my legs were scratched up through the torn dress from coming in contact with sharp branches on the way down, and it felt like I had blood on my face too. I touched it with one hand; that single movement made me wince in agony. I had a cut under my left eye and another one on my forehead; the one under the eye was deep. There was a pool of blood from my leg collecting near my foot.

"We have to get you to the doctor. We cannot wait for Mother or Mrs. Windham to get the carriage, so I will have to carry you to the hospital." With that he scooped me up in his arms and ran. It was unbearable, constantly being shaken, what with my possible broken limbs, but I didn't say anything. I just moaned. In about 10 minutes, we reached the hospital, only to be faced with a locked door and a sign on it that read, "Doctor is on leave. If urgent, please go to his house." Then it gave directions to the doctor's house, which was located somewhere in the forest. Taylor wasted no time. He spun around and ran past the crowd of staring passersby, for the forest. I could hear him breathing heavily. He was exhausted from the speed at which he was going and from carrying me, yet he spoke to me the entire way to the doctor's house, to distract me from the pain. He didn't speak about anything in particular. He told me a story about how he was in school and a boy accidentally wrote his name on Taylor's paper, and Taylor accidentally put his name on the boy's paper, earning them both grades opposite of what they would have gotten. Taylor received a 62%, while the other boy received a 98%. Then he described the Battle of Gettysburg to me. I listened, staring upward at the forest canopy that was moving at the same pace as Taylor, through which I could see bright sunlight peeking through small openings. Just my luck to injure myself on the only day of the year when the sun is out, I thought bitterly. It took around twenty minutes, more or less, to get to the doctor's house. Taylor didn't even wait for a greeting; when the doctor opened the door, he went inside, laid me on the nearest couch, hastily told the doctor what happened, and excused himself to go inform Mother. The doctor, somehow unaffected by a teenage boy barging into his house with his wounded twin sister, told him that he would send someone to let them know when to come, sometime after a few days, when I was stable. Taylor agreed hesitantly, and with one last look at me, left.

The doctor turned around to face me, and I received my first good look at him. I gasped. He was exceedingly handsome, with perfect features, as if Michelangelo had carved him out of stone. No, as if God Himself carved him out of stone. He had golden blonde hair and eyes to match. His skin was very pale, as though he had no blood coursing through his veins at all. I stared at him in awe. Nobody could be that physically perfect. At least he was not proud. He had a very gentle face as he spoke to me.

"Fell out of a tree, indeed! You are fortunate. Your injuries could have been much worse." I focused not on his words, but his voice. It was so…melodic. Not as if he was singing, no. His voice itself was the song.

As he was examining my injuries, his hands colder and harder than ice, I stared at him some more. There was something about him that was familiar, something in his face…I felt as if I had seen him before, a long time ago. I tried very hard to remember, but all I could associate with him was the feeling of frustration…over what?

He looked up and saw me staring at him. I blushed. If he had recognized me as well, he didn't show it.

I diverted my attention to the house. It was lovely, not cluttered at all. In fact, there was barely anything inside the house besides essential furniture and a few paintings on the light blue wall. Everything that was inside the house was of high quality. For a second, I even suspected that the paintings may be real. He was a doctor, after all, and doctors were wealthy. This was such an enormous house, though. Something was missing…

"Don't you live with any family?" I mentally smacked myself, since I was unable to do it with either of my real hands. The Abraham Lincoln quote came to mind again.

The doctor didn't look bothered by my question. He smiled and replied, "My son is out of town for about a week, for business. Well, it seems to me that your left leg and arm are broken, and your right arm is merely sprained. I suppose 'merely' is a relatively acceptable way of describing it." He chuckled. Then he looked at me. "I have forgotten to introduce myself. I am Dr. Johnson. And you are…?"

"Sophia. Sophia Masen." I could have sworn that I saw something in his face change when I said my name, but then again, I had deliberately been looking for some sign of recognition. Anyway, I never met anyone with the last name of Johnson.

"Sophia. Well, then, Sophia, you lost quite a bit of blood, but not too much. We will have your wounds cleaned as soon as I can get the supplies from the hospital. It was foolish of me to not keep any here. Of all the days I choose to be sick." He coughed and then chuckled. He was sick. No wonder he was so pale. "I will transfer you to the hospital in the morning," he said, gazing through the window. "Other than that, you must try to move as little as possible, for the bones to mend. You may sleep here during the night. Then, I will be able to watch you for any signs of a head injury, or such. We have an extra bedroom—"He stopped abruptly, and then tensed.

Did I do anything wrong? No, he was looking out the window again. He turned back to me, his beautiful face grave as he contemplated for a moment. Then, he looked resigned. Sighing, he sat next to me and looked into my eyes seriously. I tried to sit up, but he shook his head. Finally, he started speaking. "We do not have much time. Disregard all your previous notions. Simply listen to me. I am a vampire. There is a vampire coming here because he has found your blood on the ground. He wants to kill you."My eyes were wide, but I continued listening. "This vampire is very strong. He is, or was, also my friend. For that reason, I do not want to kill him. I am not fond of killing… people." He smiled grimly. "That is why I only drink the blood of animals, not humans. Please listen to what I am saying, Sophia. There is another way for vampires and humans to co-exist. Just consider it. Please." His eyes were begging. I didn't understand what he was saying. Why was he saying this to me? He saw the confusion in my face and continued, hurriedly, "Because I would be unable to fight this vampire off, the only way to save your life is to transform you into a vampire. I would be able to hold him off until the transformation is complete."

I could not say anything. This was all coming much too fast for me. Vampires…Why, I remembered having a book of fairy tales with vampires in them. They had been nothing more than myth to me. And I was to become one? What about Taylor and Mother? And the Windhams? Could I even believe Dr. Johnson? At the same time, I had a strange feeling that I could trust this man—he struck me as the incarnation of innocence and concern. Wait—innocence and concern…I could not believe it.

"You were the doctor! You're—you—Edward—"

"Yes, I am, Sophia. I am sorry from hiding my identity from you. I had no choice." He raised his head attentively, as though he was listening to something. "He is almost here. I'm sorry, Sophia. I…I will not let someone die when I have the power to prevent that from happening. Even when death seems like a better option." He grimaced.

"I am truly sorry."

I had nothing to say to him. I braced myself for the worst. Scenes of my life flashed before my eyes. Father telling Taylor and I stories. Me helping Aunt Elizabeth and Mother in the kitchen . Me crying at Father's funeral. Edward, stricken with the Influenza, looking into my eyes with his empty ones. My first night in my new house, screaming in my sleep. Me watching Taylor play with Francis and Harry. Me seeing golden eyes in the forest.

He leaned toward me, his eyes apologetic and determined at the same time.

And then he bit me.