"I CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE."

Lucy was crying with an intensity that Eleanor had never witnessed before. She buried her face in her trembling hands, her quick, hiccupping breaths punctuating her distress.

"You keep growing... We don't have any answers..." she sobbed, voice cracking. "And every day you look more like her. Every time I look at you..." she paused, taking a long breath of air. "Every time I look at you, I see her. And I ask myself why her and not you?"

Eleanor swallowed hard, feeling as if sharp needles were passing through her throat, hurting everything in their path.

Ever since she had opened her eyes that morning, she had felt a particular tension in the air. And this time, it wasn't the usual tension of worry and uncertainty that had surrounded her since she was a baby. It was another kind, cold and silent.

She knew something in particular wasn't right. Her aunt was distant. She hadn't greeted her in the morning. She hadn't cooked her breakfast. And she hadn't even looked alarmed when Eleanor randomly commented that she had grown another inch. No, not a single usual look of concern.

And she thought maybe Lucy was just having a stressful day. Maybe her job was demanding too much from her. Maybe the search to know the true nature of her niece was also overwhelming her, too. Eleanor had already expressed wanting to have a part in it, but Lucy and Wanda had refused. But seeing her aunt's condition, she made a mental note to insist on the matter again.

But suddenly, it hit her. Looking at the calendar pinned on the refrigerator for confirmation, a lump formed in her throat. No. It wasn't work, it wasn't stress.

It was one year since her birth.

One year since the death of her mother.

One year since the death of Lucy's sister.

"What can I do?" Eleanor asked. Her eyes had dropped to the floor, unable to look at Lucy's face and meet the look of hatred, emotion already given off in her words.

"Nothing," Lucy replied, voice suddenly empty of emotion. "You've already done enough."

Eleanor closed her eyes tightly, in a useless attempt to push all thoughts from her mind. Even though quite some time had passed, the situation kept replaying in her mind over and over again. Every time she went to bed, every time she got up, the last words she had heard from Lucy's mouth before she escaped followed her whether her mind was busy or empty. And she was sure it would be that way forever.

"You should drink this, kid," a voice broke the silence, followed by a heavy thud against the floor.

Eleanor, sitting on the first steps of the staircase, opened her eyes and stared in horror at the unconscious body of an old lady on the floor. With inhuman speed she run away until she was on the second floor, staring at the red-eyed vampire visibly angry.

"I told you I don't drink blood!" she shouted. The old lady's body had begun to move slightly, regaining consciousness. She turned her face away, unable to watch her.

"You're weak," Thomas declared. "Physically and mentally. How long do you think you can last in our world without human blood? Your senses, your strength, speed, everything would improve..."

"I don't need any of that," Eleanor interrupted him, clenching her jaw. Then turning to look at the vampire's indifferent face with pleading eyes, she whispered "Please don't do this here."

It had been over a month since Eleanor had made the decision to escape from the house, on the same night Lucy cried herself to sleep. Escape from the basement. From Lucy. And from everything else she knew. It hadn't been planned, honestly. It had been an impulsive, irrational and foolish decision, which was now showing its consequences.

But in truth, she didn't regret it.

Leaving Lucy, leaving her confined condition, had brought her into a whole new world. More importantly, it had led her to discover abilities and skills about herself that had been kept hidden all this time. How? Eleanor still couldn't find the answer, perhaps out of unconsciousness, perhaps because she hadn't needed to use them.

Speed, strength. Even persuasion. It had all been in her all this time.

And most importantly, it had led her to Thomas.

Thomas, or the creature that Wanda's psychiatric patient talked so much about, was actually a vampire of, approximately, seventy years. Turned sometime between World War I and World War II. He didn't know exactly, many of his memories had become blurred after his conversion, or "second birth" as he called it. And yet he considered himself young for his kind, having known a few other vampires of hundreds and hundreds of years.

Finding Thomas hadn't been difficult, to tell the truth. When Eleanor had left the house, all her senses had begun to sharpen. She was able to hear cars on the road several miles away and smell the freshly cooked food in the houses in the town even when she wasn't close by.

With her prior information, thanks to the supposed delusions of Wanda's patient, and the use of her developed senses, all it took was for her to follow the scent of fresh blood to an abandoned house.

There she learned that it wasn't good to interrupt a vampire when they were feeding.

"Not a human but not a full vampire either..." he murmured as he circled around, watching her. "How old are you, creature?"

"I'm Eleanor," she frowned. "And yesterday I turned... One."

As Eleanor had been expecting, Thomas began to laugh. Of course why would anyone believe she was that age when she was visibly not? Still, it was quite annoying. But the surprise came when she realized that Thomas's laugh wasn't one of mockery or disbelief.

"Unbelievable," he marveled. His smile expanded widely. "I couldn't say I had no idea about it, but to see it with my own eyes..."

"So you know people like me? Have you met them?" Eleanor had asked taking steps toward the vampire. Her heart began to beat faster, if that was possible. Could it be that all the questions that kept her up at night could finally be answered?

"I'm afraid not. You have the pleasure of being the first." he had replied. "But I think I know who might have an idea about it."

Eleanor had sat on the porch of the house, listening intently to every word that came out of Thomas' mouth.

"Joham," Thomas continued. "I met him shortly after my transformation. I didn't know much about what we were and he was kind enough to explain some rules to me," he smiled, almost nostalgically. "He was traveling alone, but he was in a hurry to leave. He was strange, stranger than any other vampire I had ever met."

"Was he like me?" Eleanor asked, the corners of her lips lifting slightly.

He shook his head. "No, Joham was a vampire all the way. Well he is, if nothing happened to him."

"Vampires can die?"

"Not in the traditional way you imagine."

Eleanor pursed her lips. She wondered how many things she had read about vampires in books would be true and how many would not.

"Anyway, Joham had a particular view on our life," he continued, a small sarcastic smile dancing on his lips. "He called himself a scientist and had this crazy idea of creating a new race of vampires or something."

"He talked about it very passionately, but I never asked him any questions. At that time, I was too focused on me. On my possibilities and limitations as a new being on earth. And I understood that in our world there are some things that are better not to know at all."

"And why is that?" Eleanor had asked, frowning.

"The Volturi, of course," he replied, as the most obvious thing in the world.

Volturi. Eleanor searched in her mind, but she didn't really remember ever having read that word.

"Vampires dedicated to maintain the order," he explained. "The equivalent of royalty in the human world, you might say. They are the ones in charge of setting the laws. Though of course, they all aim at the same thing: keeping our existence a secret."

Eleanor thought that made sense. If fantasy novels had taught her anything, it was that people didn't usually react well to the different, the unfamiliar. She definitely didn't see a happy ending in humans knowing about the existence of vampires.

"They get rid of anything that could endanger our existence. Vampires who attract too much attention or who don't know how to control themselves, immortal children..."

"Immortal children?"

"Children turned into vampires. Too young to understand the implications of our existence," the vampire looked at the girl's troubled face and laughed. "You are not an immortal child, kid. It'ts clear that your heart is beating."

"Don't laugh at me," she mused, embarrassed. There were too many things to process and she was doing her best.

Thomas smiled for a second but his expression changed immediately. "Of course, I couldn't tell you if your existence means anything to the Volturi... In fact, I'm not even sure they know creatures like you exist."

"I'm Eleanor, not a creature," she declared, angrily. Still, Thomas's words worried her. Could she be a threat to them? She was sure she would never endanger the vampire world. She wasn't even interested in eating people to begin with. "Do you think they could consider me... Dangerous?"

Thomas looked thoughtful. "They would have no reason, I suppose. But these are the Volturi we're talking about and they... Well, they have their way of looking at things."

Eleanor felt like she might throw up right there. She still didn't have all the answers to her nature, but now that very nature could mean a problem. A big problem.

"What should I do?" she whispered, more to herself.

"Run," Thomas indicated, beginning to lift the lifeless body of the man who had served as his food. As Eleanor watched him, she wondered if the man had someone, a family, waiting for him right now. "And hide."

"But..." she frowned, confused. "That's all I've been doing."

That can't be the only way out, she had thought. Because then, what was the point of her search? What had been the point of running away, putting herself in danger and, possibly, worrying Lucy? For what? To keep running? To keep locked in the basement for years? To deny her existence?

No one can know you exist, Lucy's voice echoed in her head.

How could she find her father that way?

Thomas hadn't questioned when Eleanor entered the house and went upstairs to one of the bedrooms. Neither when she left her backpack with the few belongings she had on the dusty bed that she couldn't even bring herself to sit on.

"Do you know whose house this is?" she had asked the vampire. He remained leaning against the door frame, watching her with curious eyes.

"It's mine."

Eleanor looked at him in surprise. "Really?"

"Well, it was. In my human time. I moved here after I got married," he sighed. "I never had the courage to leave completely. My wife loved this pile of bricks too much."

Looking around, Eleanor took notice of the crib covered by a yellowish sheet in one of the corners. She bit her tongue to avoid the personal questions building up in her head. Instead, she just looked at Thomas and asked.

"Is it okay if I stay here for the night?"

Night became days and days morphed into weeks. Thomas never questioned her. Their relationship had taken on a particular dynamic, but one that was strangely comforting to both of them. Eleanor observed that Thomas was far too talkative for the solitary life he led. And she wondered why he had never thought of getting together with others like him. Was it because of his love for his home? For his past human life? She never dared to ask.

Learning about vampires and their nature (their true nature, not the one the books told of) had been a great relief to her, to understand parts of her that would never have been answered but for the help of her new... partner? She didn't know what to call him.

Thomas claimed to be an excellent teacher. And on some days, he was more understanding about her decision about not drinking blood, bringing her all kinds of human food and even clothes, when hers were already starting to get too small because of her fast growth. She never asked where he got it from, and honestly, she'd rather not know.

But in others, he constantly lectured her about the need to embrace her true nature. Which led to their eternal argument: drink or not to drink human blood.

"I'm just saying, you'd be better protected if you did. You'd be able to defend yourself better... What do you think would happen to you if I wasn't here?"

She frowned. What was the point of that question?

"I can take care of myself," Eleanor replied, defiantly. Could she? Probably not, but she wasn't going to lose that argument.

Thomas laughed, a sarcastic laugh. "Yeah, sure thing kid. I'd like to hear you tell yourself that when the Volturi find you. But never mind, I won't because by then we'll both be dead."

She looked at him with hatred. She despised the cruel reminders of her condition. The bitter knowledge that she could never experience a normal existence. And so, the words came out with disdain.

"If I look like such a threat to you why are you helping me in the first place? I don't even need you."

The vampire stopped his movements. She expected him to reply with some sarcastic comment, perhaps something related to his curiosity about "creatures" like her. But no, he remained silent. After a few seconds that seemed eternal, he lifted the body of the woman he had brought to be his dinner and disappeared in a blur.

Weird.

But then again, Thomas was a person... a Vampire, quite strange. Eleanor had noticed that on some days, Thomas didn't talk. Not at all. But not because he was in a bad mood or anything in particular, as she used to sense from Lucy. Thomas would just be silent, thoughtful. Sometimes in that silence he would watch her for a long time. Other days, he wouldn't stop telling her stories and anecdotes of his life, both human and vampire.

And other days, Thomas would just disappear. Sometimes for a few hours, sometimes days. Eleanor wondered what someone like him, someone who sparkled under the sun, could be doing at those times. And surprisingly, she found herself worrying about his well-being.

Like now, for example.

After their argument he had completely disappeared. It had been weeks without him and maybe this time it had been all her fault.

She had told him she didn't need him. A stupid lie but at the time it had come out of sheer anger. And perhaps that had been enough for him to decide that there was no point in staying by her side.

Maybe Thomas had decided that staying with her was a hopeless. Or dangerous. Since maybe this group of vampires who were apparently keeping order might decide she was a threat. Maybe he didn't want to get involved.

It's okay, she thought. It was his decision, after all. And they weren't related to each other. It wasn't like with Lucy, with whom she biologically shared a relationship. Who had been there since she was a baby. Who had cared for her and protected her, even when it went against what she truly felt, as she had demonstrated the day Eleanor had escaped.

Of course, without Thomas everything had become more difficult. She didn't dare to leave the house. Above all, she didn't dare to steal. It wasn't in anything she had learned. Neither from the books nor from Lucy.

And every day that went by, the old mirror in the bathroom would reflect back an image of someone different. One day, it was a taller Eleanor. Another day, the girl in the mirror seemed to have wider hips and a smaller waist. And another day, her hair nearly reached the end of her back.

It was getting desperate. She hated seeing herself in the mirror. She hated the reminder that she wasn't like a normal person. That she didn't age like a normal person.

On one of those days she had opted to cover the mirror completely. But it wasn't as if the clothes didn't pass the reminder. The few dresses she had been able to bring with her, inherited from Lucy in her teenage years, were beginning to look more like t-shirts than anything else.

And at times like that, she also hated being alone. She hated not being brave enough to go out and live her life the way she wanted to. She hated staying hidden. She hated not having Lucy to comfort her with some warm food. She also hated missing Thomas, even if it meant arguing all day about the ethics of killing people to survive.

It was during the night, as she tried to fall asleep on the bed with torn and yellowed sheets, that she heard a noise coming from the lower part of the house. A mere brush, which she wouldn't have heard had it not been for her supernatural side.

Her eyes snapped open and her heart began to beat rapidly. Getting out of bed as quietly as possible, she began to mentally go over some self-defense tactics Thomas had taught her.

Close your hand tightly with your thumb on top. And keep your wrist steady, otherwise you could damage it. Remember that part of you is still human.

Closed hand. Wrist steady. Thumb up.

Yes, she had it.

As she stood ready behind the door, the noises were getting closer and closer. She inhaled deeply, her heart on the verge of bursting out of place.

"Eleanor?"

The lights in the room came on. The voice, perfectly familiar, made her arms drop to her sides, abandoning the previous defensive position. She watched with a half-open mouth and a dumbfounded expression as Thomas spoke to her as if he hadn't been absent for weeks.

"What are you doing there?" he asked again, pointing to her spot.

"What am I doing...?" she blinked a couple of times. "I've been alone for I don't know how many days. What do you want me to be doing? I thought you were someone... Bad!"

"Stop the drama. We have things to do."

"Things? What things?"

He grinned. And she frowned with concern. She knew that kind of smile. The one he wore when he was about to commit something ethically questionable.

"Pack your things kid. We're going to Forks, Washington."