Nineteen Twelve would prove itself to be the last for Isabella Swan. Yet from the anguish of the watery carnage, she would return. Awakening to a more inhuman existence, with a blank past and bearing only her forename from word of mouth.
But with life in the Mexican desert - with its degenerate characters and barbaric altercations - having lost its charm. A change in fortunes opens up opportunities to the north; alongside a strange meeting with some more humane vampires.
It has been relayed to me on many occasions, and by numerous persons over the decades, that maybe some humans were not destined to remain mortal.
My creator often told me how much immortality suited me. How my skills would have been wasted had I remained human. He revered my callous and cruel newborn nature, reveled in my desire for destruction. Even though he had been human himself, he considered them animals, creatures that existed simply to feed our kind. To him, mortality equated to weakness.
Years later, others theorised perhaps immortality was destined for a select few. That in order to meet those we were supposed to love, some of us had to transcend more than mere distance. We should look for the gifts immortality brought with it, cherish a second chance at life.
Others were more pragmatic, and put those things down to pure luck, declaring immortality to be much more a burden than a romanticised notion.
Though keen to impart their own views on the world of mortality and immortality, there was one thing these persons all had in common - each one still carried memories of life as a human.
I however, did not.
During the early spring of Nineteen Twelve I began my known existence, awakening as a fledgling vampire. The fire that had burnt inside me forever, receded to the depths of my throat, and quenching that thirst was the only thing that mattered. I became the cruel, ruthless creature my sire so loved. With nothing else to guide me, I followed him with blind loyalty, knowing no other life.
It wasn't until much later, that I even began to consider my unknown past, and wonder why I was missing the memories of another lifetime. Perhaps they had been too horrid, too macabre to dwell over. Or maybe they would hinder my life as a vampire; maybe I really was better suited to immortality.
As the decades passed, the last remaining links to my humanity surely began to dissipate - out of living memory, until I was merely a name on a census. I had always known it was hopeless, and the passage of time certainly made any chance of discovery impossible.
But that was okay. I missed the idea of having a human life, more than the actual thing… you couldn't miss something you had never known. There were other distractions in my life, good and bad. A multitude of dilemmas, struggles, and impossible moments, combined with wondrous places and equally wondrous people. The only life I had ever known was that of an immortal.
So I began to believe I was inevitably always meant to be a vampire, that mortality was never for me. But without the other half of the story, it would remain a bias belief.
At least, that's what I presumed.
A/N: Hello, to all who have been coerced into taking a look at this story because of my extremely brief summary. A quick note to say thanks beforehand. I'm re-writing this original prologue from a far off distant chapter, and since the first updates and plans for the story, it has taken on a life of its own.
I hope you continue onwards, enjoy the story, and reviews are most welcome.
Thanks in advance!