You may have noticed that I changed the rating. That is due to self-harming (recently added, sorry everybody who doesn't like it), violence, Cybertronian swearing, and vampires (in later chapters).

Is my audience ready? Then LET'S BEGIN!

"Where is she?" One foot in front of the other. Around the rug. Again and again. I could see Mara sitting on the sofa with a worried look on her face.

And well she should be.

When I'm nervous, I put my fingernails in my mouth (no, I don't bite them). When I'm confused, I sit on my bed, furrow my brow, and try to figure the problem out.

When I pace, that means I'm nervous and confused.

That, my friends, is not good.

"Have you called her?" I asked Mara.

"I tried to. Five minutes ago. She didn't answer."

"Why is she so late? It's been 2 hours. 2 HOURS! The store's only 20 minutes away-and that's just walking!" I tried to ignore the question that had nagged me ever since the 1 hour mark.

What if she'd been...kidnapped?

My hands fiddled with Dad's key. I thought i could almost feel something pulsing inside it. It only added to all the things that confused me.

First Mom fainting at the sight of my motorcycle, then the report that said Dad had disappeared, not been killed in action, then the discovery of the secret room behind Mom's bookcase.

But that was not the strangest thing that had happened today.

-Flashback-

"The question is...why?"

Mara shook her head. "I don't know. I think-" Suddenly she stopped. Her head swiveled around and she stared behind her. "Unless..."

I turned to follow her gaze. Lying on the bed was the diary, the photo of Mom-and yet so unlike the Mom I knew-glowing in the light of the sun through the window.

"Of course!" I grabbed the book and placed it it my lap. I wrapped my fingers around the edge of the cover and pulled.

It wouldn't budge.

"Huh?" I tugged a little harder. It didn't move.

"Wha-how in the-"

"What are you doing?" Mara had an obviously confused expression.

I turned to her. "It won't open."

"Did you check for a lock?"

I blushed. That would be just like me, to not notice that. I studied it carefully, but there was no lock. Nothing.

How is that possible?

I shook my head. "Explain this to me."

"Let me try." Mara grabbed the diary and tried to pry the pages apart. Her attempts were as futile as mine. She finally groaned and stared at the book. "What is this? SuperGlued together?"

This mystery had just gotten complicated. And extremely confusing.

-end flashback-

I turned to Mara, but before I could voice my fears, there came a faint click, then the squeak of the front door opening. Then faltering steps down the hallway. We looked at each other.

"MOM!" I raced to the door while Mara catapulted off the sofa. But before either of us could touch the handle it turned and the door swung open.

Mom stumbled into the room. She grabbed the arm of the sofa and leaned against it. Slowly she turned her head toward us.

We could only stare.

Mom's eyes were bloodshot, her face was puffy, red, and swollen, and her hair was tangled and messy. Her clothes looked as if someone had slashed them with a knife, and you could see blood seeping through in some places. Her hands were dark red, and more red dripped off her fingers onto the floor. She had dirt smudges all over her. But what scared me the most was that she had a small black dagger in one hand.

"What on earth-" I began, but Mom cut me off.

"Primus, don't ask. Just get me the fragging first aid kit."

Primus? Fragging? There was Mom throwing random words around again! What does this mean?

"What do you mean, don't ask?" Mara's voice sounded furious, but she was shaking like a leaf. "You fainted yesterday and didn't tell us why, then the next day you come home looking like you came out of a street fight. What's going on?"

"I said don't ask. Just get the first aid kit."

Mara opened her mouth to reply, but I cut her off. "Ok Mom."

I opened the door and raced into the kitchen. As soon as I could, I grabbed the edge of the island counter and gasped.

What was going on?

The smooth purr of my motorcycle engine was almost enough to relax me.

But not quite.

It had been 2 days since Mom had shown up looking like she had been fighting for her life moments before. Let's just say it had been...stressful. She and Mara get into HUGE arguments. And while I always side with Mara, I have to admit her prodding was getting annoying even for me.

I turned down the street and rounded a corner. Mom had always told me that we were from Dannaka and had always lived here, but now I felt so unsure about my past that I didn't know what to assume was true and what was not. So I was going to see the one person that would know.

He was known as simply Grandfather. He lived in a small house on the outskirts of Dannaka. He was rarely seen, and when he was, he was always on his front porch tinkering with little pieces of metal. I hadn't seen him, but everyone in town seemed to be descended from him. Maybe he would know about my family's past.

It was quiet out on the highway. There were no cars this far out in the middle of nowhere. The only thing outside of town beside tumbleweeds was a tiny brown hut, surrounded by a open porch.

As I got closer, I could see an old man sitting on the porch. He looked up as I drove into his driveway. Quickly I swung off the motorcycle and strode up to the old man. A look of surprise crossed his face as I planted my feet and stood in front of him.

He had thinning white hair, with a sagging face and a protruding stomach. He had (currently startled) soft blue eyes and a slightly hooked nose. Unlike what I expected, he wasn't bent over and he didn't wear glasses. Then again, I hadn't seen many old men.

"Who are you?" The man's voice was soft and creaked like an old door.

I took a deep breath. "My name is Melody Darby. I-I want to ask you some questions."

He looked thoughtful, then smiled. "Melody Darby, huh? I remember you. You have a little sister, too?" When I nodded, he continued. "What do you need me to tell you?"

"I need you to tell me about Mom. Do you know about how she was when she was a child?"

The old man looked at me thoughtfully. Then he pulled a chair closer to him. "Come, young one. It is a long story."

"I need the truth."

He looked me directly in the face as I slid into the chair he offered. "You may not like it, Melody. You may not like it at all."