PROLOGUE: THE BEGINNING OF THE END
(Isabella Swan's point of view - seven years old)
"Dad!" I called, bouncing off the stairs. I headed into the living room, where he was sitting in his recliner.
"Belly-Bean," he teased, picking me up and setting me on his lap. "What can I do for you, hun?"
"I was wondering - could you read with me?" I asked, holding out my favorite book.
"I wish I could, sweetheart, but I have to finish this first." He gestured to the laptop on the side table.
"Oh, okay," I mumbled, hopping off his lap and making my way to the couch, trying not to show the disappointment I felt.
"What do you say we read after dinner?" Dad asked.
I perked up and spun around, smiling brightly. "Really?"
"Really," he confirmed.
I beamed and made my way behind the couch. Sitting down, I leaned against the back of the couch and crossing my legs, setting the book in my lap. I don't know why, but I always found comfort in reading behind the couch. Something about knowing I was were hidden away from view made me feel safe. I flipped the book open to where I had left off the other night.
I was three chapters in when I heard it.
The hushed cry of pain escaping my dad's lips interrupted my reading. Curious and worried, I peeked over the couch. What I saw made me want to scream, to cry, to run. Despite my desires, fear held me in place, paralyzing me. I knew then that my dad and I would not be reading together after dinner.
A strange yet beautiful man gripped my father's chin with one hand while the other gripped a fistful of his curly brown hair. Using both of his hands, the man twisted my dad's head at an uncomfortable angle. With a sickening snap, my dad's body went limp.
I bit down hard on my bottom lip, forcing myself not to scream in terror and agony. I forced back the tears as they threatened to blur my vision.
"Isabella, Charlie, dinner's ready," my mom, Renee, called from the kitchen.
I heard the sound of her light footsteps walking toward the swinging door that led to the living room, where my father's dead body now lay. If I were brave, I would have called out to her, warned her to get away, to save herself. Instead I covered my mouth with both of my trembling hands, squeezing my eyes shut and cowering behind the couch once again.
Mom's footsteps continued, followed by the sound of the swinging door. I heard her shriek, and in truth, I couldn't blame her. The sight of my father, her husband, lying there helpless and lifeless at the man's feet was a sight I'm sure she didn't expect to see.
Her scream was quickly cut off. I could only imagine what the man was going to do to her. I didn't want him to kill her. But I knew from what I had already witnessed that she was going to die tonight . . .
After a silent, anxious moment, I heard my mother whimper, followed by the sound of her neck being snapped. The only person I had left now was Emmett, my older brother. I was very thankful he wasn't in the house at that moment. I wasn't sure if I could handle it if another family member were to die that night.
As my father's death and my mother's imagined death replayed in my mind, I was grateful for the hands covering my mouth, stopping the screams of terror, horror, and agony from escaping my lips.
I didn't want to, but my body acted on its own. I found myself looking over the couch's arm once again. Both of my parents were lying limp at the man's feet. I quietly wiped the tears from my cheeks as I watched the man's final act.
The man grabbed a fistful of my father's shirt and pulled him closer to his face. I wanted to shriek; scared, horrified, and disgusted by what I saw next. The man's upper lip curled high above a row of glistening white teeth. His teeth could have passed as human, but he definitely was not. Those glistening teeth inched closer to my father's neck, easily biting into it. Blood oozed from the wound, running down the man's throat. He eagerly sucked the blood from the wound. In the dead silence of the room, I could hear a faint sucking sound that made my stomach turn. The man finished feeding on my father in a matter of seconds. Next, he moved eagerly to my mother.
I could not watch this! I forced my eyes shut with as much force as possible.
After a few moments, I peeked through my wet eyelashes. My parents, both bone-pale and lifeless, lay at his feet. A squeak of terror escaped my lips. The man's head snapped up; his strange crimson eyes focused on my face, a wicked-evil grin stretching across his perfect features. His teeth were gleaming in the dim light of the room. Though my main focus was on the man before me, I couldn't help but think . . . my parents were gone.
