Bloody Mary // J. Hale

Family Meeting

In Forks, it was impossible not to hear about the Cullens. They weren't just beautiful—they were unforgettable. Their presence lingered, like the shadow of a storm, impossible to ignore. It wasn't just their looks or their unchanging youth that set them apart, but the air of mystery that clung to them, a secret no one could quite uncover. They didn't seem like a family at all—each of them so different, so distinct—but somehow, they fit together in a way no one could explain.

Dr. Carlisle Cullen was the one everyone talked about first. He wasn't just a trauma doctor—he was a miracle worker. People spoke of his steady hands and kind smile, but it was more than that. He had a way of looking at you, of seeing you, that made you believe everything would be okay.

Then there was Esme, his wife. People didn't know much about her, but what they did know was enough to make an impression. She had this warmth about her, like the kind of mother everyone wished they'd had. Her kindness wasn't loud—it was subtle, soft, but it wrapped around you like a blanket. She had an eye for beauty, too. Her design work in the town's old buildings made them feel modern yet cosy, as if they belonged to everyone who walked inside. Women in Forks whispered about her, about how she was the perfect wife, the perfect mother. But there was something about her that made Jenna think there was more beneath the surface—something quiet, unspoken, but deeply strong.

The so-called "children," though—they were harder to pin down.

Rosalie Hale was the kind of girl you couldn't stop staring at, even if you knew you should. Her beauty wasn't just striking; it was overwhelming, like looking directly at the sun. But she didn't invite admiration. She didn't want it. There was something cold about her, something untouchable. She was perfect, but in a way that felt sharp, like the edge of a blade. Jenna didn't know much about her—no one did—but it was clear Rosalie didn't let people in. Her walls were high, and she guarded them fiercely. Still, Jenna couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to her than the icy exterior she showed the world.

Emmett, on the other hand, couldn't have been more different. Where Rosalie was closed off, Emmett was wide open. He laughed easily, spoke his mind without hesitation, and lived like every moment was meant to be enjoyed. There was nothing hidden about him, nothing guarded. He was a force of nature, unapologetically himself, and it was impossible not to feel drawn to him. Jenna couldn't imagine what connected him and Rosalie, but somehow, they worked. Like fire and ice, each tempering the other.

And then there was Edward. Jenna didn't like to think about Edward much—there was something about him that set her on edge. He was quiet, brooding, always watching but rarely speaking. It wasn't his looks that unsettled her, though he was beautiful like the rest of them. It was the way he looked at her, like he was peeling back the layers of her mind and seeing all the things she didn't want anyone to see. He reminded her of herself in a way she didn't like—trapped in his own head, weighed down by thoughts that wouldn't leave him alone.

Alice was nothing like him. She was light, motion, and energy—like a spark that never burned out. She moved through life as if she knew a secret no one else did, a secret that made even the hardest things seem bearable. Jenna had heard about her, about her visions, her ability to see the future. It sounded like a curse to Jenna, but Alice carried it like it was just another part of her. Maybe that was her strength. Even with all the darkness she must have seen, she still found reasons to smile, to hope. It made Jenna wonder if Alice knew something they didn't—if maybe, somehow, everything would turn out okay.

Even with all their differences, as they stood before her around the oval dining table, Jenna couldn't deny that they belonged together. It was as though some invisible force—destiny, perhaps—had drawn them to one another. They weren't just individuals; they were parts of a whole, pieces of a puzzle that formed something larger than themselves: a family.