Hey whoever clicked on this link. This is just some random thing I wrote. When I wrote it, I didn't have a clue what it was , maybe it'll be something, give it a shot. Don't kill me if you hate it, this is my first fanfic. SO DON'T FLAME ME. betcha can guess who Bella is ;) (Don't know how to double space, sorry)
There she is- the women I'm here for. The one I'm supposed to kill.
This is my nightmare- I see the words, the words that are meant for me. I don't know how; some strange glitch in my brain? But I see flashes, just words, in my head. It always happens before something happens- something big. And bad. Right before my mother died, I saw an obituary in the paper. Renee Swan-May 13, 1969 – December 20, 2006. Minutes later, I heard the news. No one knew how she died. No one does. And when my father went missing, I saw the headline. Now the words of death are for me. I don't want to die- who does? But the larger part of me is curious. My father used to say that if aliens abducted me, instead of being afraid, I would ask them questions until I annoyed then into letting me go. No one knows of my talent, not even my parents. I wish I knew more, I want to know how I was going to die, I want to know who is going to kill me, but most of all I want to know why. I wonder why someone even would bother killing me. I am close to no one; am not of any importance or interest.
And then I do see something else. There is a man, or the shadow of one at least. He is reading the paper outside my apartment building. Taking his time, he begins to climb the five flights of stairs leading to my door. I jolt away from the vision violently, and then shivered. Suddenly, I remember how when first exploring my apartment with my father, had found the secret passage way. The building was old, so I wasn't as surprised as I should have been. I secretly suspected that he had know it was there the entire time, and had just pretended not to know it was there, but he disappeared before I could ask him. A wave of adrenaline hit my bloodstream. I moved quickly, silently. I scurried to my spare bedroom, before it was too late. In the back of the room, there appeared to be just a dent in the wall. Only my father and I knew that if you touched it just the right way, a small section of the wall would open, reveling a closet. I climbed in, just as I heard the deadbolt on my front door slide out of place.