"I haven't heard a word from Damon," I confided to Elena, feeling the weight of the situation.

It had been a few days since that man jumped in front of our car, and things felt heavy between us.

"Every time I try to reach out to him, he just shuts me down," I added, the frustration evident in my voice.

Even with all the terrible things he had done, my heart still ached for him. It was painful to see my brother in such distress.

"Do you think he's still trying to find Katherine?" Elena asked gently, rubbing something in her pocket as if seeking comfort.

I shrugged, trying to gather my thoughts. "I don't know. Damon waited one hundred and forty-five years, only to discover that Katherine doesn't give a damn. That has to hurt him deeply, right?"

I felt a flicker of sadness for him—because it would hurt me too. To some extent, it already did.

"And it couldn't have happened to a nicer guy," Elena said with a hint of sarcasm, but there was pain beneath it.

I recalled Damon gloating to Alaric Saltzman, and I felt a pang of empathy for both of them.

"You have every right to be upset with him," I said softly. "Have you thought about what you'll do regarding this situation?"

She turned to me, her expression serious. "About what? Isobel, my vampire birth mother, who's related to Katherine—the one who hurt your brother? No... I haven't really thought about it at all."

I nodded, understanding her frustration. "I'm sorry I brought it up. That must be so exhausting."

"It would just be nice if we could get through one day without dealing with it," she sighed, her voice laden with weariness. "No vampire mother or brother."

I raised an eyebrow, trying to lighten the mood a bit. "No vampires at all?"

She smiled faintly. "No vampires except for you. I just want to return to normal things like school and homework—and you know what? Fun."

We both needed a break from this tumultuous reality.

"Ooh, that sounds wonderful to me. When do we start?" I asked, hoping to bring a little joy back into our lives.

"Do you still have that vampire book?" Jeremy asked, his voice rising above the chatter of students in our history class.

The unexpected question startled me, jolting me so much that I flinched and snapped my pencil in two with a loud crack.

"What?" I exclaimed, staring at the shattered pieces of my pencil scattered on my desk. "Great."

"Varney, or something like that?" he continued, his eyes glinting with curiosity.

"Varney the Vampire," I replied, trying to hide my surprise.

"Do you still have it?"

"No, it was a library book. Why are you so interested in vampires all of a sudden?"

"In my ancestor's journal," he explained excitedly, "he wrote a short story about vampires."

I raised an eyebrow, skeptical. I couldn't quite believe what I was hearing.

"Could I read it?" I asked, intrigued.

"I think Ric lost it," he said with a hint of disappointment.

"Who's Ric?"

"Alaric."

I glanced back at Jeremy, my confusion deepening. "You mean Mr. Saltzman?"

"Yeah," he confirmed, a smile creeping across his face.

Turning my attention to Mr. Saltzman, who was making his rounds and glancing our way, I couldn't help but wonder.

"I didn't know you were on a first-name basis with him."

"What did the story say?" he inquired, eager to learn more.

"Nothing useful," I sighed. "But I'll check it out for you again."

"That would be great," he replied.

The lovebirds watched me board the windows without offering any assistance; it was a day after the attack.

'I say we go to Pearl's, bust down the door, and annihilate the idiot that attacked us last night.'

'Yeah. And then what?' Stefan questioned. 'We turn to the rest of that house of vampires and say, "Oops. Sorry?"

'I can't believe you made a deal with her.' Elena scoffed.

She's becoming a real brat as of late.

'It was more like a helpful exchange of information. And it's not like I had a choice. She's...scary. Besides, she's going to help me get Katherine back.'

'Of course, she is. Damon gets what he wants, as usual. No matter who he hurts in the process.'

Skip the becoming part.

'You don't have to be snarky about it.'

'I woke up this morning to learn that all the vampires have been released from the tomb. I've earned snarky.'

'How long are you going to blame me for turning your birth mother into a vampire?'

'I'm not blaming you, Damon. I've accepted the fact that you're a self-serving psychopath with no redeeming qualities.'

'Ouch.'

'This isn't very productive.' Stefan groaned. 'We'll figure out how to deal with Pearl and the vampires.

I rolled my eyes and left lovebirds.

Caroline told me about her and Matt's double date with Elena and Stefan the day before.

We both asked each other about Bonnie, but there was no new news. She said she would visit her dad for his boyfriend's daughter's birthday.

After the phone call with Caroline ended, I watched the rain, thinking of Forks, Jake, and Angela.

I opened my laptop and started a chat with Jacob Black.

We must have talked for hours before Gran knocked on my door; I nearly dropped my laptop.

'Coming.'

I opened my door to find Gran with a dour expression on her face.

'Gran, what's wrong?'

'They found Vicky.'

Despite knowing the truth, I had to ask, 'Is she okay?'

'No, Bella. She's dead. Vicky Donavan is dead.'

They discarded her lifeless body in the shadowy depths of the woods, and it was Caroline who stumbled upon the grim scene.

Oh, God.

I find myself utterly alone with this horrifying secret. Stefan has been missing in action for days, and Elena remains blissfully unaware that I hold such dark knowledge—she wouldn't want to discuss it with me anyway. Everyone else is just as clueless, lost in their own worlds.

But Jeremy has started asking probing questions about vampires.

Does he know something that I don't?

Should I dig deeper and find out what he knows?

What if he spills the truth to Elena?

What if he's tangled in some scheme orchestrated by Damon and Elena?

Or could it be that he's merely searching for answers, desperate for someone to confide in?

I really should talk to him.

With my heart pounding, I marched over but halted when I saw him. He was lean and tall, with striking blue eyes that sparkled beneath his short, light brown hair. His dark suit wrapped around him like a second skin, giving him an air of seriousness that felt out of place.

I must have made a noise because he turned to face me.

"Are you a friend of Elena's?" he asked, the curiosity evident in his voice.

"No, I'm—"

Just then, the door to the Gilbert house creaked open, and Elena stepped outside, her familiar figure instantly catching his attention.

"Elena!" he called out, a hint of warmth in his voice.

"Uncle John! Hi!" Elena replied, a smile lighting up her face.

He glanced over her shoulder, recognizing someone else. "Jenna."

"John, you made it," Jenna said, her tone friendly yet subtly cautious.

"I said I'd be here before noon," he replied, stepping inside the house.

Elena turned to me, her gaze sharp and assessing.

"Oh, what you say and what you do are typically two very different things," she remarked, not missing a beat.

"Bella, did you need something?" Elena asked pointedly as Jeremy bounded down the stairs with youthful energy.

John Gilbert's attention shifted back to us as Jeremy exclaimed, "Uncle John, what's up?"

"Hey!" John replied with a jovial tone.

Jeremy slapped him on the shoulder, a frank display ofaffection, then shifted his focus to me. "Did you get it?"

"Not yet, but I want to talk to you," I said, urgency creeping into my voice.

"We can talk at school," he replied, glancing towards Elena, who watched us with an intensity that made me uneasy. Perhaps she sensed something was off.

"I had some business in town; I thought a visit was in order," John explained, maintaining a lighthearted demeanor.

"How long are you staying?" Elena asked, a hint of concern in her gaze.

"I don't know yet," John Gilbert answered, his tone nonchalant but his eyes betraying a deeper contemplation.

"Okay, well, I'm heading to school; I'll see you later," Elena said, turning on her heel and making her way down the path, leaving an uneasy silence in her wake.

'Isabella.' called a voice as I entered the hall.

I turned to see Dr. Francis approaching me, his head tilted to the side.

'Bella.' I grumbled.

'Did you get my friend request?'

'I don't use social media that much.' I lied.

'How are you feeling? I heard about your friend's body turning up.' Dr. Francis started to touch me, but stopped and put his hands in his pocket. 'I'm sure this very overwhelming for you.'

'Yeah. Yeah, it is.'

'Is your neck ok?' Dr. Francis looked at my neck. 'That bruise is ugly.'

'Yeah,' I rubbed my neck, 'it feels fine; it just looks back.'

'Are you taking your anxiety medication?'

'Took one as soon as I found out.'

'That's good, but that medication is there for when you have rough days, it's not a crutch.'

'Yes, sir. I only take half a pill when it all becomes too much.'

'You need to talk to someone about this.' He sighed. 'If not me, then your grandmother.'

'I do.'

'You're friends with Matt Donavan, aren't you? He might need a friend, too.'

That actually was sound advice.

'Yes, sir.'

'Isobel.' the saltman's voice from behind made me jump.

'It's Isabella.' I groaned as I turned him.

'Aren't you late for class?'

'Next bell rings in minutes.' Dr. Francis muttered.

I suppressed a laugh as Mr. Saltzman's eye twitched.

'I was on my way to my locker, sir.' I said as I hurried off.

Isobel Swan hurried down the dimly lit corridor, her footsteps quickening as she tried to escape before Alaric Saltzman could catch up.

"Maybe she's just lying to get away from that doctor," Alaric pondered, a sense of urgency fueling his search through the winding halls.

A strange familiarity washed over him, reminding him of his late wife, Isobel—how they shared the same name, a poignant connection that only deepened his concern. She was the sole survivor of the notorious 'animal' attacks. He

couldn't shake the nagging question from his mind: Was it Fell who attacked her, or was it... him?

The sound of books crashing to the floor pulled Alaric from his reverie. As he followed the noise, he spotted Isobel Swan kneeling on the ground, her belongings scattered in disarray.

"Do you need help?" he asked, rushing toward her.

"I'm fine. I'm fine," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper as she scrambled to gather her things. But in her haste, she dropped everything again, frustration flickering across her face. "Dang it."

"It's okay; I don't mind helping a damsel in distress," he offered, trying to lighten the mood.

As he observed Isobel Swan, he noted the heart-shaped contours of her face—her broad forehead crowned with a delicate widow's peak, accentuating her large, widely set eyes that seemed to hold an entire world within them.

Her prominent cheekbones gave her a striking profile, while her thin nose and narrow jaw culminated in a pointed chin. The fullness of her lips was slightly at odds with her delicate jawline, and her eyebrows, darker than her hair, were remarkably straight, contrasting her soft features.

Except for the slight differences in the ages, eye size, and color of her eyes, she could easily have been mistaken for his late wife. Her dark blue shirt highlighted her lily-white skin, making her look almost ethereal, like fresh cream in the pale , a look of fright danced across Isobel Swan's face, a stark reminder that something was troubling her.

"What's wrong, Isobel?" he inquired gently, concern lacing his voice.

She scowled at his question, hurriedly collecting her belongings. Alaric picked up a copy of "Wuthering Heights" from the floor and handed it to her, noting their shared taste in literature with a warm smile.

"Thank you," she murmured, accepting the book with relief.

"So, how long have you been in town?" he asked, hoping to start a conversation.

"Shortly before school started," she stuttered, her eyes darting around as if searching for an escape.

"Yeah, we're both outsiders," Alaric joked, but the humor fell flat; Isobel's horrified expression made it clear she didn't share his sentiment.

At that moment, he felt a wave of nostalgia hit him—like being back in college, uncertain and nervous while attempting to ask his wife out for the first time.

His gaze caught the bruises marring her neck, dark and angry against her fair skin.

"That looks like it hurts," he remarked softly, genuine concern etching his features.

"Yeah," she replied quietly, zipping her bag with trembling fingers. "It did." As she attempted to rise to her feet, Alaric instinctively caught her around the waist, but she recoiled from his touch as if it were fire.

"Did I hurt you, Isobel?" he asked, bewildered by her reaction.

"I'm fine. I'm fine," she choked out, holding her hands up defensively. "I need—"

"If you ever want to talk about what happened—" he started, but she cut him off.

"My friends are waiting for me," she said, her voice strained as she stumbled away, leaving him standing there, a mix of concern and helplessness swirling within him.

'Do you think your uncle would talk to me?' I heard Bella's voice quiet voice ask Jeremy at lunch.

It was my first back since I drank Elena's blood; I thought I was ready, but Bella's scent told me that I was dead wrong.

'Sure, I guess. Why are you interested in this?'

'My parents left Mystic Falls on the claims of danger. Your uncle might be able to fill in the blanks.'

'Didn't your grandmother say anything?'

'She mentioned my mom freaking out about a kidnapping.'

'Kidnapping?'

'It was a custody thing; they found the kid.'

'You think my uncle might remember it?'

'Don't know.'

'Is there another reason why you're pressing this?'

'I guess I'm having a bit of an identity crisis.'

'Why?'

'When I was 13, I found out that I was adopted. Ever since the crash, I've felt disconnected from mom and dad.'

'Do you think the girl in the photo is your mother?'

Bella paused momentarily, then closed her eyes as Elena entered the lunchroom. She made her way to me as Bella opened her eyes once more.

'This is about Charlie and Renee. Maybe one day, I will seek out my birth parents, but for now, this is about the people who chose me.'

Elena kissed me, then whispered, 'We need to talk about Jeremy later.'

'Ok.' both Jeremy and I said in unison.

'Is something wrong?' I asked.

'Not here.'

I glanced at Bella; she was biting her nails, and I felt Elena's gaze/glare.

'How have you been?' Bella asked.

'Fine.'

'I mean, we haven't talked since...'

'What is she saying to him?' Elena sizzled into my ear.

'She's asking him if he's ok.' I answered.

'What did he say?'

'I'm fine. I'm fine.'

'The same thing said to you.'

"You'll never believe what Elena whispered to me just a few days ago," Jeremy said, his voice low and urgent as he pulled me toward the secluded Stoner's pit.

The morning sunlight filtered through the trees, casting playful shadows on the ground as we made our way there.

I hadn't been thinking about anything other than the day ahead until Jeremy abruptly grabbed my arm, his eyes wide with excitement and apprehension. "Elena's adopted. And she just found out, too."

A shock of realization washed over me, pulling me from my thoughts.

Of course, with everything that had been unfolding in our lives, that detail had slipped my mind.

"Is she really? How did she find out?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.

Jeremy hesitated, his gaze drifting toward the ground, and I could sense he was holding something back.

"I'm not sure," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. Then he looked at me with a serious expression. "Do you remember your attack?"

I furrowed my brow, puzzled. "Why do you ask?"

Elena's voice rang across the clearing as he was about to continue. "Jeremy!" she called, striding toward us with a determined look.

He quickly glanced back at me, a mix of urgency and frustration in his eyes. "We can talk later," he said, discreetly changing the subject as he rushed over to her.

Dear Diary,

Today, I decided to confide in Mr. Saltzman about the mysterious picture I found in Jeremy's room.

When I showed it to him, he stared intently but didn't recognize the man in the photo. I haven't mentioned it to Stefan and Damon yet—there's already so much on their plates, especially with everything Stefan is going through. The last thing I want is to burden them further with this enigma.

Mr. Saltzman assured me he would delve into the man's identity, expressing his lack of trust in Stefan and Damon.

I get why he's wary of Damon; his unpredictability can be alarming. However, I can't help but defend Stefan—he's genuinely a good guy at heart.

I told Jeremy about my adoption today, hoping to open up a line of communication. Yet, the moment didn't feel right to ask about the photograph. He seems preoccupied, especially with his probing questions about Vicky's death. There's a look in his eyes that suggests he isn't convinced by the story that she overdosed.

What haunts me is how he remembers things that seem so

distant. How did he stumble upon that photo? Was it a sign that Anna had turned him into a vampire? The mystery deepens, and I can't help but feel the weight of it all pressing down on me.

As soon as I was within running distance- in vampire terms- of the school, Bella's scent sang to me.

I saw her grandmother driving as Bella stumbled into the school.

I waited until she was safely inside, then parked his car. I heard footsteps approaching, looked up, and saw Elena power-walking toward me.

'Nice car.'

'Thought it was a waste to leave it in the garage.'

She beamed, then kissed me. 'I didn't know you were coming back today.'

'You know, I woke up this morning, and I was feeling great, and I figured it was time for me to get back into things.'

'Does that mean you're okay now, with all the cravings?'

'Yeah, I mean, the worst part is over, so...now all I want to do is spend as much time with you as possible.'

She grinned once more. 'I'm okay with that.'

We kissed again.

'Hey, thank you for helping me get through the rough patch.'

'You're welcome.' we stared at each other before Elena exclaimed, 'We're gonna be late.'

'Okay, uh, you know what? I'll catch up with you. I'm going to grab my stuff. I'll be right behind you.'

'Okay.'

When she left, I grabbed my bag from the trunk, careful of the blood bags.

Ever since they found Vicky's body, Stefan has been missing a lot of school lately.

Maybe he feels guilty...

'It's Valentine's Day.' Rosalie commented one day, she was wearing red and pink, she did look great in those colors.

We were in the library.

'What are you planning?' I asked while checking my email and Facebook.

I'd recently made friends with Waylon Forge, a member of the Forks PD.

'I have a story due tomorrow morning.

'What's it on?'

'Happy couples.' Rosalie groaned.

Royce wanted to keep Rosalie doing fuff pieces and beauty advice.

'Caroline Forbes and Matt Donovan are happy.'

Rosalie flopped down next to me, and whined, 'I'm tired of not being taken seriously.'

'Maybe you should go rogue and do your own story.'

'On what?'

'What moves you?'

'Excitement, drama, intrigue.' she exclaimed. 'But that kind of stuff doesn't happen in Mystic Falls.'

You'd be surprised, Rose.

'What's something you know that no one in town knows?'

She shrugged. 'A blood bank was robbed.'

I stopped what i was doing and turned to her. 'What?'

'Right? Who robs a blood bank?'

Stefan's beautiful face flashed in my mind. 'Someone who's not human.' I murmured.

After school, I saw Gran talking to Bonnie; the truck was closer to me, so I crept over to it.

A book fell out of my bag when I reached the truck; I got out to pick it up. Under the truck, as I grabbed it, I noticed Gran's loafers heading in my direction.

A pair of men's dress shoes followed her.

'Mrs. Higginbotham.' called a voice; it sounded like John Gilbert.

She stopped but didn't turn to face him. 'Mr. Gilbert.'

Gran sounded like her patience was waning.

'I saw your granddaughter.' John Gilbert said.

'Did you?' Gran responded coldly.

'Yes.'

'Funny, Bella never mentioned meeting any bloodsuckers to me.'

'Oh, how I missed Beau's wit, but it's good to know it lives on in you.' was his scathing response. 'We haven't officially met yet.'

'Lucky her.' Gran grunted.

'I see her around with my nephew Jeremy.'

'He's a nice young boy.'

'He showed me an old photo of myself, your son, and Isobel.'

'Did he?'

'Does Bella know? Have you told her about it?'

'Have I told her about you? No, John, I have not; I'd rather not talk about you. I imagine that's the same for anyone who had the pleasure of meeting you.'

Ouch, when did Gran become so savage?

'Did you at least tell her about Beau's part in it?'

'My son was prey to you and that tramp.'

'Beaufort was a troubled boy-'

'He was never troubled until he met you.'

The silence was deafening, and I thought it would never end. 'Uncle John!'

I saw John's feet turn and walk over to what looked like the type of shoes Jeremy wore.

I slowly rose as Gran veered around to face the truck, she looked horrified when she saw my face.

'Bella.'

'Gran.'

'How much of that did you hear?'

'Only all of it.'

'Little boy lost.' Damon muttered as Elena, and I walked into the library of the boarding house.

''I'll be upstairs, OK?' Elena whispered.

I nodded. 'Okay.'

She paused, then turned to my brother. 'Good night, Damon.'

Elena went upstairs.

I turned him. 'Thank you.'

'No, Stefan, thank you. You're back on Bambi blood, and I'm the big badass brother again. All is right in the world.'

I chuckled. 'I mean it. Thank you. For...helping her take care of me.'

He rolled his eyes. 'You brood too much. Everything on this planet is not your fault. My actions, what I do, it's not your fault. I own them. They belong to me. You are not allowed to feel my guilt.'

'Do you feel guilt?'

'If I wanted to, it's there. Emily waited till after I turned to tell me she'd been successful in protecting Katherine with her spell. She didn't want me to know about the tomb. She thought it would impact my decision.'

'She didn't want either one of us to turn. She said it was a curse.'

Now, it was his turn to chuckle. 'Witches...Judgy little things.'

'Why didn't you tell me?'

'Because I didn't want you to know. Cause I hated you, and I still do.'

I sighed. 'I know.'

'But not because you forced me to turn.'

'Then why?'

'Because she turned you. It was just supposed to be me, Stefan...Just me.'

Gran and I drove through the almost-empty streets to the grill, the sun setting in a blaze of orange and pink. We decided to order takeout, our stomachs grumbling in anticipation.

I wanted no distractions when I confronted her about John Gilbert. My mind was racing, filled with questions and a determination that fluttered like butterflies in my stomach.

As I parked across the street, I caught sight of the Saltman driving away, the engine rumbling as it disappeared into the distance. A woman, who wasn't Jeremy's aunt, walked into the restaurant, her silhouette briefly illuminated by the warm light spilling out from the entrance. Gran and I exchanged a glance before heading inside.

"Bella! Bella! Isabella, wait!" Gran called after me, her voice laced with urgency. "You don't understand!"

"Then make me understand!" I insisted, feeling a surge of frustration. "What happened between Isobel, John, and Beau?"

From across the room, my gaze was drawn to a dark-haired woman. She watched me intently, her eyes piercing and filled with an emotion I couldn't quite decipher. The second I said Isobel's name, she turned sharply toward me.

Who was this woman? Why was she staring so intently at me? And why did she look so hauntingly familiar? I felt an unsettling sense of recognition but couldn't place her.

Suddenly, Gran burst into tears, the sound of her sobs slicing through the tense air as the woman turned her gaze toward her. "Oh, Isabella. It—it's just—oh, there's so much you don't know!" Gran exclaimed, her voice trembling with emotion.

"Then tell me!" I urged, my fingers nervously tousling my hair to the left side of my face. "Tell me, or I'll go to John Gilbert myself."

Once again, I felt the weight of the woman's curious gaze resting upon me.

"Order for Swan!" Matt's voice called out from behind the counter, breaking the charged moment. "Yo, Bella."

The woman turned away hastily, perhaps recognizing me as

well. I seized the moment, grabbed our food, and strode over, even as Gran pleaded with me to wait.

As the woman turned back to me, I saw her dark hair pulled snugly into a ponytail, its color resembling glossy obsidian. Her verdant eyes met mine, sparkling with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine, but in a flash, she rushed out of the restaurant, slipping through the door like a wisp of smoke.

"Isobel!" I shouted, instinctively following her into the night.

I dashed outside but, true to my clumsy nature, slipped on the pavement and fell hard. The world around me spun as my head collided against the unforgiving ground. I gasped, embarrassment flooding me, and I swore under my breath. I felt a warm trickle from my scalp, and the unsettling realization washed over me that it wasn't water.

I pushed myself up from the ground, rubbing my head as I scanned the chaotic scene around me. A car sat ominously next to a monstrous pickup truck, its engines revving in the background, drowning out the frantic screams that pierced the air.

Suddenly, my eyes widened in horror as I spotted a driverless pickup truck barreling towards me, its metal frame glinting menacingly in the fading light.

Panic surged through me, and I stood frozen, my mind

blanking out in sheer terror.

Desperate instinct kicked in, and I turned to run, but my feet tangled beneath me, causing me to tumble backward onto the pavement. Just as I braced for impact, convinced that this was the end, she emerged out of nowhere.

She lunged at me with astonishing swiftness, pushing me out of harm's way and effortlessly holding back the charging truck as if it were a mere toy.

"It's Isobel," I gasped, recognizing her.

She turned her gaze on me, her grip firm as she cupped my face. At that moment, her expression flickered, revealing an otherworldly quality. "You smell good," she said, her voice silky and smooth.

"Vampire," I muttered, the realization hanging heavy in the air.

"Forget you saw me," she commanded, her tone leaving no room for argument.