CHAPTER ONE

I hate having nightmares. Tonight I was tossing and turning in my bed, trying to wake up from the terrifying vision of Daddy being a bad guy. I knew it was Daddy because he still looked the same. He still had the same hair and face. He was still really tall too. But he was different, because his eyes weren't the warm brown I always loved. His eyes were menacingly red. They reminded me of blood, and they did not have a very nice look to them. He was pale too. Usually Daddy was really tan, because we spent so much time together outside in the sun. He was always helping me learn to ride horses or something. But in this dream, he was paler than the moon. It was scary. What was scarier was that he was fighting with other pale people that had red eyes just like him. I was worried sick, because I felt like he was going to get hurt. And then, just as he was about to bite someone's neck, I started screaming for him. He looked up when he saw me, and then…

I was woken up by two strong arms and a voice that kept calling my name.

"Bella! Isabella! You're okay; it was just a dream sweetheart. Please wake up Bella. Daddy's here" I heard the voice say. I opened my eyes and Daddy was holding me in bed, trying to send away my scary dream. I quickly hugged him back and started crying. He slowly rocked me back and forth and then he lifted my face up so I was looking in his eyes. "Would you like to tell me what your dream was, sweetheart?" I nodded and told him about his scary red eyes and the fight with the other pale people.

"Oh Bella, it was just a dream. It's okay. I'm here, and I'm never going anywhere."

I was six years old the night of that dream. Little did I know just how much my world was about to change.

...

My name is Marie Harrison, and I am 17 years old. But I'm not your average 17-year-old girl. My skin is ice cold and whiter than paper. My eyes are a liquidy topaz most of the time, but they darken considerably when I get a little thirsty. I have the power to influence a person's decisions with my mind. I have been pregnant for 141 years, but I have no baby bump. To an outsider, I am constantly considered inhumanly beautiful. That's probably because I'm not human. That's right. I am Marie Harrison, and I am what you would call a vampire. A monster.

I try not to be a monster, to not give in to this pathetic excuse for a life I have been cursed to. Most of my kind follow the myth of vampires and drink the blood of humans. But I feed off the blood of animals, and I try my best to keep the humans safe from other monsters like me. I have pretty good control over my bloodlust, and I attend high school every school year posing as a human. I move to small towns every few years or so and start over. Don't ask me what for, because I couldn't give you an answer. I have no friends, no lovers, and I don't even know where the man is who changed me shortly after impregnating me. I am completely and utterly alone, and I have been since my Daddy left for war in 1861. He was in the confederate army, and went missing when I was 15.

I was only 6 when he left, and he was so much more than just my father. He was my teacher, best friend, protector, and my constant companion. We had such a special bond that I can faintly remember Momma being jealous all those years ago. I can barely remember my mother. She died two years after Dad, and I'm surprised she held on that long. She sunk into a deep depression when he died, and that's when I began to take care of myself. When she died of a broken heart, I just remember her telling me she knew I'd be all right without her. Then we held each other quietly as she drew her last shaky breath. I loved my mother, but the pain remembered from her death is nothing compared to the heartbreaking feeling that shoots through my unbeating heart each time I remember my father.

I let out a deep sigh as I completed the drive into my newest hometown: Forks, Washington. I found the lonely street where I was renting a small cottage and pulled into the property. It was next to a large forest, and I could already smell the sweet blood of elk, my favorite delicacy. I suddenly felt my stomach flutter, and I knew my precious little fetus was kicking again. The baby that could not be born did this whenever I needed to hunt. I looked in my mirror and the color of my eyes confirmed that I needed blood. I decided to get settled into my new home and then go hunting. It wouldn't take long to unpack, because I only had 2 boxes I felt were worth carting around from home to home. One contained the small amount of clothes I especially enjoyed, and the other was quite a bit dearer to my heart. The second box contained every little trinket, every memory associated with Daddy before he died. Old letters, birthday presents, and even old dresses he used to love me in. They were all carried to each home I traveled to. I couldn't bear to part with them. How could I dishonor his memory like that? I loved my dad. He was the most wonderful man I had ever come across in my 158 years. He was everything to me. He was Jasper Whitlock, and I loved him.