Disclaimer: None of it belongs to me. It all comes from the imagination of the wonderful and talented Stephenie Meyer, the author of Twilight and New Moon
A/N: This is a project that I am doing in order to understand both Alice and Jasper a bit better...sort of a character study. I don't know how deeply I will manage to get into Jasper since I will start out with Alice: Nor do I know how far I will take this in general…I haven't really developed a plot yet, I'm hoping it will comes to me as I go.
Please criticize me harshly for I really want to become the best writer that I can be! CONTAINS/ WILL CONTAIN NEW MOON SPOILERS!
My name is Mary Alice Brandon Cullen. That's just a name I suppose, a name tells you nothing about a person (if that's what I can still refer to myself as). But who am I? Truly…I've never really known, but lately my entire existence has become an even greater mystery. By setting light a little bit of light on my human life, my vampire existence has become even more complicated.
What a wondrous invention computers are…with everything becoming so confusing I feel the need to write everything down, to stay in perspective, to not let my life (or non-life) go as unwritten.
Let's start with one simple word, a word that I wouldn't normally associate with myself, but due to my past it is necessary. Insanity. If you look into the dictionary it will tell you that insanity means the derangement of mind. I am not deranged, nor was I ever, though I don't know that last part for sure! However if people hadn't seen me as insane in my old life I wouldn't be where I am now…with a loving family and a husband who cares for me more then I could have ever dreamt of.
I'm getting ahead of myself! The asylum, a place for the mentally ill, the insane. Why was I stuck here? For shock treatments, the ones I "needed" because I tended to see certain events happen before they occurred. I suppose that in the 17th century I would have been burned at the stake. I lived my human life in a place of darkness, never seeing the sun, sounds closer to the life of a true fictional vampire then the life that I actually do "live" as a real life vampire…Hollywood likes to glamorize, and dramatize things.
I wish I could describe my asylum life better then I can, but all that I do truly know is from the accounts of others, for I do not remember it. Weather it is because I was truly insane or because of the constant state of darkness I do not know!
The vampire who saved me from this dark prison is someone who's name I do not know, nor have I ever consciously known him…he was killed by James. I suppose he must have loved me…la tua cantante, my blood must have sung to him probably the way that Bella appeals to Edward. Yet James wanted me, simply because the other one desired me. He ended up being killed for making me what I am now.
Then for the first time in history did my strange talent really benefit me. Being left alone, as a freshly created vampire, could have made me attack any human that I smelled. I could have killed entire villages! But I saw what we were truly capable of…I saw my new family. Carlisle, one of the kindest people that I have ever known, I saw that there was another way of life out there.
But before that I saw something, or better yet someone, else. He was looking for me. Not consciously, for he didn't even know who I was. I saw in my vision that he was in fact one of the murderers. Yet I also saw the pain he felt, I felt like he wanted a way out…he just needed someone to show him that it was possible, someone to help him through it all.
I found Jasper in 1948. In Texas, the winter of 1948… I was looking for him; I admit that much and when I found him, sitting on top of a tombstone in an old cemetery I knew that everything would work out. He looked like a young man, but when you looked into his face you could see grief stricken eyes that held so much pain, the pain of having seen horrid things being done. His eyes were honest, yet hidden as if afraid. I found him sitting there looking like he would cry, if he could.
When I approached him he turned around looking a bit like a dog gone missing, and wanting to come home. And his hostile voice spoke, "Would you mind leaving, I need a moment."
I just shook my head and headed for the exit deciding that the best way to handle the situation would be to give the stranger his space. However when he did finally emerge, quite some time later, I spoke up, "Who were you grieving for?"
He looked up as if stumbling out of deep thought, "An old friend…someone who I left behind a here …a long time ago," his expression changed and became a bit more frigid, if that was even possible, "What do you want? I'm just passing through, if I disturbed your hunting ground then rest assured that I will be moving on shortly."
So he had most obviously noticed that I was one of them, the eternally damned. "I don't hunt, at least not what you think."
And with that we came into conversation. We talked for two days straight discussing things that we had never been able to share with anybody else, both due to the fact that we were what we were and that he was a naturally untrusting being. Those first few nights we only skirted on the topic of diet. He asked me about my life before being a vampire and at that point I couldn't tell him anything, for it was a mystery.
I learned that he had served as been as major in the confederate army during the civil war, and that the friend whose grave he had visited earlier had been somebody that had gotten a bit to close while he was thirsty. He had never managed to forgive himself for that, which is exactly what had caused him to leave Texas, and was also the sole reason for which he had come back…to say his regrets at his friend's grave. Well…that and the fact that he had started to develop a conscience. He hadn't wanted to kill anymore.
I also learned about his specialty (it had turned out that I wasn't the only person with a special gift) his charismatic abilities in his human life had strengthened making him able to influence the emotions of the people around him. Now that I think back on it, this might be the reason why I felt safe with him; he didn't want me to fear him. So I never did, even though some of the stories he old me were truly horrifying. Stories of war, death, and deceit. Although it sounded like it could have been in a book, I knew that that's what had made the shivers run down my back…the fact that this man had seen so much horror!
At the end of our long talk he just looked at me and went, "Don't mind me for asking, but why am I telling you all this?"
"Because you need me," was my quiet reply.