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June 10, 2002

There's a hierarchy in everything. In a family someone always has the higher power and in nature the apex predator rules the kingdom. You'll even see a hierarchy in friendships, relationships, and companies. In all hierarchy's there's always someone or something at the bottom of it all. They're usually the prey, runt, or outsider and are looked over, outcasted, or in the case of prey, killed.

Even as I laid on the grass below the large black ash tree, I witnessed the hierarchy. Small birds digging their beaks into the dirt to find worms, large birds swooping down to grab rodents, and spiders eating insects they caught in their webs.

"Alexandra, it's time to go!" I stood up from my position under the ash tree and dusted off my cream dress before running to my father.

It was the summer of 2002, I was only 13 and my father made the decision to move me from Prince Rupert, British Columbia to Forks, Washington. My fathers got a teaching job across the globe and didn't want to force me to come along, so arrangements were made for me to move in with an old family friend. My childhood home on the waterfront was sold quickly within a few days of it being on the market. Our few personal items were packed into the truck of the car well we slowly came to realize we were leaving the home my deceased mother had loved so dearly. Today was the beginning of what would be a long drive from Prince Rupert to Forks.

"You got everything?" I nodded as my dad opened the back door of his car and helped me get in.

"Good, I don't want to have to drive back here after we leave." He shut the door behind me before getting to the drivers seat.

"Can we listen to Great Big Sea?" I gave him the biggest smiled I could muster hoping he would give into my music recommendations.

"Okay, what album? Up, Sea of No Cares, Something Beautiful, Road Rage, Courage & Patients & Grit, Play, or their first album?" He held up the seven cassettes as he smiled at me showing off his pearly whites.

My dads ginger hair was cut short and left in its natural curled mess, he had little facial hair but still had stubble. His eyes were a golden Hazel which made sense since he was a vegan vampire, my dad hadn't aged a day past 25 even if he was 649-years-old.

"Play, please." With a nod his brown curls bounced on his forehead and he slipped the black tape into its designated slot and pressed play we were off.

The first song, Ordinary Day, played through the speakers as the car started and my dad began pulling out of the driveway onto the road. The windows were rolled down an inch letting the wind blow through my elbow length hair as I dug through the open box looking for something to entertain myself.

"How long till we're there?" It was only 5 minutes into the ride and I was 10 pages into Mindhunter: Inside the FBI's Elite Serial Crime Unit by retired FBI agent John E. Douglas and co-author Mark Olshaker, when the common and annoying question slipped my lips.

"With quick stops, a day at most." One good thing about being a vampire, they don't need sleep.

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