Author's Notes
This story is to be based off completely off the idea of Stephenie Meyer's book Twilight. All events in this book besides the ones added, are taken and revised to allow me to explore an author's writing strategy. If this copy was to be sold, the author of Twilight is to take credit for the events taken from her story.
PREFACE
I'D ALWAYS HOPED THAT MY DEATH WOULD BE A PEACEFUL ONE, ONE IN SLEEP - and even if I were given another a choice - another way to die, I would have never imagined it like this.
The pain was unbearable, I felt it coursing through my veins, coursing through to my arms, my legs, my head. I saw the man, the assassin, the hunter . . . whatever you would have called him if you had met him. He grinned pleasantly at me, flashing his celebrity white teeth at me.
I wondered how I could have been so thoughtless to waltz right into here unknowing, unprepared for what I was about to do. And now I paid the price, but what I received in turn was so much more satisfying. To know that I could have prevented a death by placing myself in the hands of danger made me feel powerful, but at the same time weak. All the words came up in mind when I tried to describe how I felt right now. Noble, courageous, honorable . . . stupid.
I knew that if I'd never gone to Quillayute, one of the rainiest towns in America, alongside Forks, I wouldn't be facing the unspeakable horrors I saw now. I would be at home, at Texas, sunny Texas, my Texas. But, even Texas could not bring myself to regret making the decision to come to Quillayute. I was given a rare offer, I thought, a rare offer that every person gets in their lifetime, and mostly decline. Rare offers sound like terrible ones, they make you feel like what you have at the present is enough, is satisfying. I knew that accepting the rare offer would lead to a worse life for me, and I was right . . . or so I thought.
The assassin, the hunter, smiled in a friendly way as he leaned over my face to end my life.
< 1 >
1 . Quillayute
MY MOTHER BEGGED AND BEGGED ME NOT TO GO, TO STAY WITH HER, SO THAT
I would not have to go to Quillayute, but I kept telling her that I was fine. It was a hundred and one degrees in Texas, the air dry and dusty, the sun scorching on my back. My mom wouldn't let me wear my favorite shirt - a thin-sleeved with a red embroidery.
In the forests of Washington, a largely populated town Quillayute exists under a cover of clouds. It rains on the town more than any other place in the United States of America, besides Forks. It was from this town where I was born, under the gloomy, gray sky, where my mother left my father when I was a few weeks old. It was there, where I had been forced to visit to spend a month every summer and winter until I was thirteen. That was the year I decided that I couldn't take the gloomy-gray sky of Quillayute. That would be the last time my dad, Jon, would see me, until now.
< 2 >
I detested Quillayute, its gray sky, its rainy weather. The very thought of it drove me sick. I was already missing Texas, even though I hadn't left yet. I loved the weather, the dry weather. There was no one to blame but me, I'd decided to move to Quillayute, and my mom tried to stop me.
"Liz," my mom said to me. I knew she was about to tell me the thing she'd told me hundreds of times already. "Why are you going? You know you don't like Quillayute."
I shared a few noticeable features with my mom. My eyes were a dark shade of brown, coffee brown, which matched my dark, black hair. My mother's was also long, but not as long as mine, and her eyes were a little bit darker than mine, but people couldn't tell by first glance. Only my close friends in Texas could tell.
