Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or its characters
Cause I knew you
Stepping on the last train
Marked me like a bloodstain, I
I knew you
Tried to change the ending
Peter losing Wendy, I
I knew you
Leaving like a father
Running like water, I
And when you are young, they assume you know nothing
But I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss
I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs
The smell of smoke would hang around this long
Cause I knew everything when I was young
I knew I'd curse you for the longest time
Chasing shadows in the grocery line
I knew you'd miss me once the thrill expired
And you'd be standing in my front porch light
And I knew you'd come back to me
You'd come back to me
And you come back to me
You'd come back
And when I felt like I was an old cardigan
Under someone's bed
You'd put me on and said I was your favorite…
FATE'S WICKED SENSE OF HUMOR
Present
In the dead of the woods, four teenagers approached the rusted gates of Hawthorne Manor using only the flashlight from their phone to light their path. The two girls part of the group hid behind the two boys as they stopped at the gates and took in the abandoned manor.
"Guys, we really shouldn't be here," the redhead said, hiding behind the blonde male.
"Come on, Jessica, you said you wanted to see it," her companion said.
"Yes, but I didn't take into account how terrifying it would look at night! We should've come when the sun was still out."
"Do you guys think the stories are real?" The other boy asked, shaking the chained gates. The gates squeaked, letting off an awful amount of dirt that made the group take a step back.
"What are the stories?" The raven haired girl with glasses asked.
The second male put his flashlight under his chin, casting a shadow over his face and began retelling the legend in a rather dramatized way:
"Legend says, the manor used to belong to the Hawethorne family. The father was paranoid which is why he built the manor here, miles and miles away from civilization. He had two daughters, Katherine and Margaret. Katherine was the youngest of the two and legend says she was beautiful, envied by everyone, including her eldest sister. Katherine fell madly in love with a stable boy from town, the same boy Margaret had loved for years, and the two were engaged within two months after meeting. Her sister, driven by jealousy, took Katherine out to the lake on the day of her wedding, claiming she had a gift she wanted to give her in privacy. But instead of a gift, Margaret tipped their boat over and Katherine - who did not know how to swim - drowned. Margaret had hoped that after Katherine was gone, the young stable boy would marry her instead. But he, overcome with grief, went off to La Push and walked into the water, never to be seen again.
"And according to the legend, Margaret was found dead in her bed two months later. Her eyes wide open, mouth agape and she had the distinct marks of hands around her neck. Next to her bed was a puddle of dirty water and muddy footprints which went from and back to the lake. Their parents abandoned the manor after the death of their second daughter and ever since, people have claimed to have seen the young maiden walk between windows and sometimes the forest, searching or perhaps waiting for her lover to return."
The young redhead rolled her eyes, folding her arms over her chest.
"You two are idiots."
"Hey, we are just telling you what the legend says," the blonde boy said with a shrug. "Now, do you want to see if we catch a glimpse of the Lady of the Manor?"
"No, no thank you," the raven haired girl said. "I'm not going past this point. The manor looks terrifying enough from here."
"It's just a legend."
"Forget about the legend, what if there's a psychotic killer hiding in there?"
"You see these gates?" The blonde boy shook them once more. "They haven't opened for decades. No one is here."
"Ben, what are you doing?" Angela asked.
Ben, as she'd called him, was flashing his light to the manor's windows. Most of the windows on the bottom floor had been boarded up, except the ones in the upper level.
"My cousin came here once years ago," he said as he moved his flashlight from window to window. "He said he once saw something move by the windows."
"You're just trying to scare us," Jessica said. "And if he did see someone, it was probably a homeless person, not a ghost."
"Wanna test that theory?"
"Go to hell, Mike."
"You guys are lame," Mike said.
Isabella, having grown tired of the group, moved from her spot by the window. A ghost of a smile spread across her face when she heard the group gasp.
"D-Did you see that?" Ben asked.
"See what?" Jessica asked.
"Don't tell me you didn't see that!" This time it was Angela.
"See what?"
"Look at the window!" Mike shouted. Isabella could bet anything that he was pointing to the window she'd just been standing by. "Something moved!"
"You're lying."
"Jessica, I swear on my siblings, something moved," Angela said, her voice laced with fear.
"Right there!" Ben shouted and all four of them screamed when they saw the distinct shadow move away from the window.
Isabella, who hadn't moved from her hiding spot, heard rustling of their feet as they ran away.
That one wasn't me, she thought to herself.
She waited until she heard their car roar back to life and the tires screeching as they drove away before she turned her lamp back on. She'd been in the middle of rereading Wuthering Heights when she heard them approach, and so as not to give herself away, she turned her lamp off and stood by the window, watching the teenagers from the safety of the manor. She'd grown used to the occasional visitors, all hoping to see the alleged "Lady of the Manor." Most left disappointed when they didn't see anything, but Isabella simply couldn't help herself after hearing their retelling of the legend of Hawthorne.
Realistically, she should've been worried by the attention the manor got, but no one besides the kids who grew up in Forks, the only town near Hawthorne Manor, and who grew up hearing the stories, came to see it. They came looking for a ghost, not a vampire, and as long as they stayed talking about the ghost of the manor, she could stay a while longer.
Truth be told, the legend wasn't too far off from what actually happened. You learn a lot after spending eighty years in one place. Isabella had found a box full of documents and journals in the attic a year after she settled in the manor and she'd studied them all throughout the years.
The manor did belong to the Hawethorne family and while she didn't find anything to confirm the father was paranoid, she did confirm he had two daughters - Margaret and Katherine. Based on the mother's journal, Katherine did not die on her wedding day - though she was weeks away from being married. According to the journal, the sisters had a habit of going out every morning to the lake on their boat to enjoy the sunrise. But on that fateful morning, Margaret said Katherine had seen something in the water and leaned over without thinking, and that was what caused their boat to flip. Katherine indeed did not know how to swim, but Margaret did, and up until her last entry, their mother could not understand why Margaret couldn't save her.
Though Margaret died in her bed two months later, there was no evidence she was found with her eyes wide open and mouth agape, nor the alleged marks on her neck. Her death, according to the documents, was linked to an ailment of the heart she had since she was a child. Though, the dirty puddle of water next to her bed and the footprints that went from her bedroom to the lake were an anomaly neither their parents could withstand. So, they left Hawthorne Manor, chaining the gates and locked in whatever evil took their daughters.
There was nothing about the sibling rivalry over a stable boy in the journals. Isabella learned that the young man Katherine was supposed to marry, William Sterling, did go into La Push with the intention of ending his life, but he was saved by the residents of the reservation who saw him go into the water. However, no one could've saved him from the sickness that overtook him afterwards and he died in his home two days after Katherine's death.
Isabella was no stranger to the whispers in the corners or the occasional footsteps down the hall. She wasn't sure whether or not the shadows in the manor were Katherine or her sister, but if Katherine was still wandering Hawthorne Manor, Isabella sympathized with her and she couldn't help but notice the similarities between the two. She knew what it felt like to have your life taken away before it was about to start. And while she wasn't fully dead, wasn't Isabella stuck in her own version of a purgatory, forced to haunt the manor's halls?
The only difference between the two was that she knew her lover would never return.
Isabella tried to continue reading, but found it hard as that restless feeling in her chest began tugging at her. She shut the book with a loud thud and groaned. She was used to feeling restless on occasion, but it seemingly had gotten worse over the last couple of weeks. Sleep evaded her completely, no matter how tired she felt at times and even walking the halls of the manor wasn't enough to get rid of that feeling.
She left her book on top of the pile of the other books she'd taken from the manor's own library and some she'd taken from the town's library nearby, and grabbed her cloak.
Lifting the hood of her cloak over her head, Isabella stepped out into the chilly autumn night. A fog had fallen over Hawthorne Manor. She hopped over the wall that surrounded the manor and ventured deep into the woods, hearing nothing but the snapping sticks under her bare feet.
She felt the tug in her chest harder and harder, almost mimicking the beat of her dead heart. She felt each tug, the vibration running through her body like a guitar string. She'd never felt anything like it before.
She walked, hoping to find some relief from the feeling. She walked and walked, until she reached the riverbank. There, she sat at the edge under the moonlight, closed her eyes and focused on the sound of the water rushing between the rocks.
It happened then.
It was faint, but it was there causing her entire body to tense.
The faint scent of a vampire.
Isabella sprung to her feet, inhaling but she couldn't smell anything beyond the water from the river and the growing moisture in the air. But it had been there, the scent brief as if it was carried by the wind. Luckily, the heavy clouds hovering nearby meant the second it started raining, her scent would be hard to track if there was a vampire nearby.
Isabella ran back to the manor. It had begun raining in the time it took her to get there, but she realized she had waited too long to feed. It'd already been two months since her last feed which caused her to be slower, and that alone could cost her her safety. She cursed herself as she paced the room she was in, eyeing from the safety of the shadows the manor's surroundings, waiting for a vampire to approach.
A vampire was nearby, or had been, she deduced. She hoped it was only passing by, that by the morning it would be long gone and she could continue on as before. But if she smelled him, could he have caught her scent? Even if it was as faint as his? Was it only one or were there more?
Isabella stayed within the safety of the manor for days, always watching, ready to run at a moment's notice. Even when her entire body thrummed with unrest, even when that tug in her chest began to physically hurt, she wouldn't step foot outside unless she was sure whoever the vampire was nearby was gone.
She didn't leave the manor until the fifth day, having decided that if any vampire had caught her scent they would've made their presence known by now. And she needed to feed, desperately. She was already at a disadvantage after waiting so long since her last feed, a habit really, but a habit she needed to break.
She ventured out of the manor during the daylight. She had her cloak to keep her hidden from the sun, but if any vampire still hovered nearby they'd be easily caught in the sunlight, and decided to hunt close to the manor, in any case she needed to make a quick getaway.
Once Isabella caught the sweet scent of a deer nearby, she let go, moving on pure instinct. Deer had always been the easiest animal to hunt, not putting in an ounce of fight as she pinned it to the ground. Sometimes, she'd hunt for a mountain lion or even a bear when she was looking to blow off some steam.
She was on her second deer when the sound of a branch snapping under someone's foot snapped her out of her trance, followed by the thick scent of a vampire. She raised her head slowly, the hood of her cloak covering her peripherals so she could only see ahead, and whoever was there was right behind her. Every hair in her body stood in alert, the blood of the deer still trickling down her chin. The tug in her chest came back, harder than she's ever felt it before, almost mimicking a racing heartbeat.
It wasn't until she heard the rustling of leaves coming from a different direction that Isabella finally sprung into action. She ran. She ran, and she could hear whoever was behind her chasing after her and judging by the amount of footsteps she could hear, there were multiple vampires after her. She jumped up to one of the trees, using the thick branches as cover as she jumped from tree to tree. She knew she couldn't run back to the manor because the vampires were right on her heels, she had to lead them as far away as possible and find a way to lose them. Her first thought was the river.
"Stop!" She heard one of the vampires yell, which only propelled her to keep pushing harder.
"Go around!" Another voice yelled.
Isabella pushed herself harder, dropping from the trees and raced through the woods. As far as she could tell, there had to be at least three vampires after her. Panic began setting in, if they caught her, she was done for. She stopped once she reached the edge of the riverbank. The water was too calm for her to jump into the river, they'd easily see her. She needed to get on the other side, probably take them around in circles and lose them up in the mountains. If she could somehow find a different body of water, her scent would be lost.
They were getting close, she needed to act now.
And she did.
She jumped across the river.
And the second her feet hit the ground, she was struck down. It all happened too fast. Once her back hit the ground, she was met with the largest wolf she'd ever seen in her life, followed by the foul smell of wet dog. The canines alone were longer than her forearm and it roared in her face, baring those sharp teeth dangerously close to her neck and its paw pinned her to the ground.
The wolf threw its head back and howled. Isabella couldn't move, even if she wanted to. The gray wolf growled at her, bearing its teeth once more. She couldn't move, even as if she heard the vampires who'd chase her land not far from where she laid on the ground, followed by more footsteps.
"Step away, Paul."
Paul?
The wolf growled deeper this time, not taking its eyes from her.
"Now!"
The wolf huffed and retreated. Isabella let out the breath she'd been holding and sprung to her feet, but as she tried to run away, someone grabbed her by the back of the cloak and tossed her back on the ground. She landed on her hands and knees, the hood of her cloak concealing her face from the group of vampires and the wolf that surrounded her.
"Emmett!" A woman hissed.
"She was going to run away," the vampire who grabbed her said.
"Leave her be," the woman said.
"Carlisle?"
There was silence.
"Is she the one who's been hiding out in the abandoned manor?" Emmett asked.
"Must be," another female voice said. "Carlisle, do you recognize her?"
Carlisle did not answer.
"Carlisle, do you know her?" Another male voice asked and the wolf beside him huffed once more.
"I'm not sure!" Carlisle finally said. There was a beat of silence as Isabella felt all of their eyes on her, but she remained hidden under the cloak. "Take the hood off," Carlisle ordered.
Isabella didn't move.
Suddenly, Emmett grabbed her by the back of the cloak but she swung her leg around, knocking him off his feet and tackling him to the ground, the impact rattling the ground beneath him. One of the females hissed, but was stopped by the other one when she tried to lunge at Isabella.
Emmett had a clear view of Isabella's face as he lay pinned underneath her.
"Do not touch me," she said through gritted teeth.
"Get. Off. Him," the blonde female hissed, fighting against the hold of the one with caramel hair.
Isabella immediately stepped back and turned, coming face to face with another wolf. It was taller than she was, its fur a rich brown with onyx eyes she could see her reflection in. She fell back a step and as she took a look around, she realized she was surrounded.
That tug in her was becoming more painful by the second.
"Carlisle, do you know her?" The woman asked.
The one she assumed was Carlisle, the tall blonde male, shook his head, his eyes locked on Isabella.
"Who are you?" The woman asked her. The blonde one had stopped fighting her when Isabella stepped away from Emmett, so she stepped around her, inching closer to Isabella. "Are you the vampire that's been hiding in Hawthorne manor?"
Isabella kept her mouth shut.
"Holy shit," the blonde girl said. "What if she's Aro's mate?"
Isabella began shaking her head, the pain in her chest turning into a buzz that ran through her entire body like an electric shock. But before she could say anything, the voice in her head came back, repeating a word that sent a chill down her back.
Mate.
Mate.
Mate.
Mate.
Isabella let out a shaky breath.
"Is that her, Carlisle?" She heard someone ask, but she couldn't tell who it was. She couldn't as she felt that tug, urging her to turn around, urging her to go. "Is she Aro's mate?"
"No."
The vocalization of a voice she'd been hearing in her head sent a shock through her body. Isabella finally turned, coming face to face with a ghost.
Because it had to be, it had to be a ghost. If it wasn't, then fate had a wicked sense of humor. Isabella couldn't move, couldn't run, couldn't look away from the man standing feet away from her.
His eyes were the same remarkable shade of green as she remembered. His hair, copper under the rays of the sun. The hard set of his jaw and everything about him…
It couldn't be.
It couldn't.
He was dead.
Mate.
Mate, screamed her cold, dead heart.
It felt like a call to him.
Isabella knew she'd surely gone mad.
"No," he said once more, sending a chill down her spine. "She's mine."
Gee, I wonder who that could be? See ya next Wednesday!