After that, life settled into a quieter rhythm for me. Gran insisted I wait until after Thanksgiving to return to school, a decision that felt both protective and suffocating. As I scrolled through the school's Facebook page, a glimmer of excitement struck me—a new teacher had joined the staff, and the thought left me feeling a mix of curiosity and hope.

On that crisp autumn morning, I slipped into a cozy brown shirt; my favorite faded blue jeans and classic black Vans. I pulled my hair back into a neat ponytail, the familiarity of the routine grounding me amidst the uncertainty. Gran drove me to school, her presence a comforting weight in the car. I couldn't shake the feeling that it would be an eternity before I could walk into those hallways without her shadow trailing behind me.

As I entered the school, Jeremy greeted me with a nod. We walked side by side to history class, where he filled me in on the latest about Vicky. His voice was heavy with an undisguised mix of loss and resignation. The sheriff had questioned him, Matt, Elena, and Stefan about Vicky's disappearance; apparently, she had decided to leave town without a word. Jeremy admitted he missed her, but his heart told him it was probably for the best.

His response was unsettlingly rehearsed.

I couldn't shake the thought that Damon or Stefan had compelled him to say what he did; perhaps I could break through that fog if I pressed him harder.

Suddenly, a tall man strode into the room. He stood at least 6'2" with an athletic build that made him appear confident and commanding. His short, brown hair was meticulously gelled, while his piercing blue eyes surveyed the class. Dressed casually in a dark blue shirt, fitted jeans, and sturdy black boots, he seemed approachable and authoritative—a stark contrast to the teachers I was used to.

Could this possibly be Mr. Tanner's replacement?

I glanced at the whiteboard and spotted the name "Alaric Saltzman" scrawled neatly.

"It's pronounced Alaric, but I prefer Ric," he said, facing us with an easy smile. "The name Alaric belongs to my late great-grandfather. Today, I'd like to go around the room and learn something about each of you."

Great. Just what I needed—a spotlight on me.

He began calling us alphabetically, and I felt a knot tightening in my stomach, praying he wouldn't reach my name.

"Swan, Isobel."

Of course.

A hush fell over the room as everyone turned to stare at me, whispers about my recent absence dancing in the air. Mr.

Saltzman's gaze fixed on me.

"Isobel Swan?"

With a deep breath, I cautiously raised my hand. "Ah, there you are," he said, pointing me out. "Stand up, Isobel." Reluctantly, I rose to my feet. "Isobel, that's a... lovely name."

"It's Isabella. I prefer Bella," I corrected, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks.

"Tell us about yourself, Izzy."

"Bella," I repeated, more firmly this time.

Panic flooded my system; my heart raced, and I struggled to draw in a steady breath. My body started to tremble, an overwhelming wave of nausea threatening to consume me.

"Are you okay?" a blonde girl asked, concern lacing her voice.

Just then, the bell rang a much-needed reprieve. I bolted out of the classroom, colliding with Tyler in the hallway.

"Hey, watch—oh, Bella. Hey. Have you spoken to—"

"Let's go, Bella," Jeremy said, sliding his arm around my shoulders and guiding me away. "I need to talk to you about something."

"What is it?" I asked, my curiosity piqued as he led me further down the hallway.

"How did you survive that experience?"

"I... I don't know, Jeremy," I admitted, attempting a laugh that felt hollow. "I guess my parents helped."

"Your parents?"

"Charlie and Renee always told me to keep fighting. Do you have any idea where Vicky might be?"

"Maybe she went to see her mom, or perhaps she's on a bender."

"I don't think she's on a bender," I replied, shaking my head.

"Maybe she's missing her mom, or she's with some guy."

"What did you want to talk about?" I inquired, wanting to shift the focus back to him.

"Mr. Saltzman is letting me make up all my missed assignments. I have to write an essay."

"On what?" I asked, intrigued.

"That's the thing; I can't figure out what I want to write about."

"Didn't your family help create this city? Start with that," I suggested, hoping to inspire him.

"Hey, where are you going?" he called as I took a few steps away.

"I need to go to the bathroom," I replied, hoping to escape the unease in my chest.

'Stefan.' Elena's voice called.

I was sitting at a picnic table outside when I heard her voice, I turned to see Elena approaching me. 'Hi.'

Elena rubbed her arm nervously. 'You weren't in class; I was worried.'

'Yeah, I got your messages, and I'm sorry I didn't get back to you, but what I wanna say shouldn't be said over the phone.'

'A simple "I didn't kill my brother" text would have sufficed.'

I shrugged. 'I didn't kill my brother as much as he deserved it. He has you to thank for that.'

'That's good to know. So,' Elena sighed, 'what did you wanna tell me?'

'I won't be coming to school anymore.' I sighed. I'm going to back off and keep my distance. It's the right thing to do.'

'Back off from school or me?' She asked. There was an awkward silence before she let out a defeated sigh. 'Thank you for telling me.'

She didn't understand, but she would one day.

'It's better this way.'

She shook her head. 'Yep. I got it.'

'You're angry. That's good. It'll be easier if you hate me.'

I turned to leave, but the scent of her stopped me.

'I don't want to hate you, Stefan.' Elena said, jumping in front of me. 'Stefan, I-' she stepped back when she saw my face. 'What is it?'

We both turned to see Isabella rubbing her wound ten yards away, standing near an entrance. I could hear her blood flowing through her veins; it sang to me.

'I didn't know Bella was coming back today.' Elena whispered. 'Is she bleeding?'

'No.'

'Then what is it?'

'Her blood. It's her blood; something about her.'

'What do you mean?'

'Her blood is the sweetest scent I've ever smelt.' I whispered. 'No one comes close to her, not you, not anyone!'

Elena scowled and swung around to Bella; her brown shirt made her mahogany-colored hair and swan skin stand out. She was listening to music on her iPod; it sounded like Debussy.

'Maybe we should leave.'

'Don't; I'm not sure I can control myself right now. I might hurt you.'

'I'll get rid of her.' Elena insisted.

As I approached the picnic area, I caught sight of Elena Gilbert and Stefan Salvatore deep in conversation.

The gentle rustle of the leaves in the breeze mixed with the rhythm of my music, creating a backdrop to their quiet exchange. I briefly considered turning down the volume to eavesdrop, but ultimately dismissed the idea.

1. They wouldn't be careless enough to discuss Stefan's condition in a public setting, where anyone could overhear

them.

2. I had a hunch that Stefan could easily pick up on the sound of my music.

3. If I was right about him hearing my music, reducing the volume would inevitably alert him to my awareness and expose my lack of compulsion.

I needed to gather more information before revealing my own hand.

Suddenly, a soft tap on my shoulder made me jump, causing my books to tumble from my arms and scatter across the grass. I turned to see Elena standing there, her expression a mixture of apology and curiosity. She wore a fitted denim jacket over a flowing purple and white top, paired with pants that were either a deep brown or possibly faded black—a testament to her laid-back style.

"Sorry," she said, already kneeling down, her hands deftly picking up my scattered books.

"Okay."

I noticed her eyebrow twitch slightly at my curt response. "I like your top," she said, an earnest smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

My patience was wearing thin, and I cut to the chase. "Did

you need something, Elena?"

What was her real intention?

"Uh, I remember... You mentioned that Mr. Tanner was friends with your uncle."

A flicker of surprise crossed my face. I hadn't expected her to recall that detail, yet even more stunning was the realization that Stefan had vanished.

Elena was clearly trying to distract me.

But why?

Did Stefan suspect something?

With my wall firmly in place, I asked, "What about it?"

"They hosted a candlelight—"

"The night I was attacked," I interjected, recalling the dread that hung in the air that evening.

"Right," she muttered, handing me my last book with an air of reluctance. "Oh, you like *Wuthering Heights* too."

"Yes," I replied.

"It's my favorite book," she continued, her voice brightening.

"Jeremy mentioned that," I said, keeping my tone neutral.

"So—" she started, but I wasn't interested in playing games anymore.

"What are you trying to distract me from?" I pressed, my curiosity piqued.

"What?! " she exclaimed, her voice betraying her surprise. "Nothing."

Nice try, Elena. I was not falling for her ruse.

"I have to go," I stated firmly, turning slightly away.

"I noticed that you and Jeremy are pretty close..."

"Does it bother you that he's friends with a drug addict like me?" I shot back, watching as color drained from her face and she cast her gaze downward, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that," she murmured, clearly flustered.

Feeling a surge of confidence, I challenged her, "What did I say that led you to label me a drug addict? What makes it so hard for you to believe?"

"Come on, Bella! Did you hear what you said?!"

"Refresh my memory," I retorted, not backing down.

"You said—" she paused, stumbling over her thoughts.

"What did I say?" I pressed, steady and unwavering.

Come on, Elena, say it.

"It doesn't even matter anymore," she scoffed, frustration evident in her voice.

You remembered, Elena. This only solidified what I had suspected: she knew.

"How can it be illogical if you're holding onto that memory?"

"It must have been ridiculous for me to react that way," she conceded, her voice losing its earlier edge.

"Or maybe you're just in denial," I suggested, my words sharp.

She hesitated as if searching for a reply but ultimately muttered, "I need to find Bonnie. She wanted to talk to me about something."

"I'm not holding you back," I stated, my resolve unshaken as I watched her retreat.