Halfway through my punishment, Jake and Billy Black came down from La Push to watch the basketball game and have dinner. It was weird – I think Charlie-Dad would have tried to cook if I hadn't taken over for the good of us all. I actually sorted through a couple old cookbooks of Renee-Mom's that had been stored in the attic and found a recipe for lasagna I thought everyone would like.

Considering I was still grounded I figured Charlie-Dad would say I had to stay in my room the whole time, but when I thought he'd speak up about it he just watched me with sad eyes and stayed quiet.

Something had shifted between us when I lied, when I was so irresponsible, and I wasn't sure how long it would take to shift back. If it ever would, really.

It was five-thirty when Billy and Jake pulled into the driveway, and, like always, I was out like a shot to greet them.

"Jay-Jay!" I cried, clearing the ramp over the front steps in one jump. Thankfully, he was still about my height, still a little scrawny, still had his long hair; what triggered the wolf-splosion anyway? I knew it was the presence of vampires, but the Cullens had been in town for two years and Jake was still fine, so what? Was it something I could prevent? Should I?

Billy laughed as I tackled Jake, sending the boy stumbling back a few steps as I wrapped my arms around his middle.

"Where's the fire, Ed?" Jake asked, chuckling.

"I haven't seen you in like, a month and a half!" I pouted.

He ruffled my hair, and though I was annoyed I didn't snap at him like usual. Honestly, after my run-in with Carlisle in the woods I thought I'd never see them – or anyone else – again. He whistled. "You must really miss me, I got to touch your hair."

"Don't get used to it," I told him, and stuck out my tongue.

Charlie-Dad had followed me out at a much more sedate pace and was catching up with Billy. I waited for a lull in their conversation before extracting myself from Jake's hold, then I smoothed down my hair with both hands and went over to give Billy a hug as well.

All of us ambled into the house, the teasing rampant, and I felt at home. I couldn't imagine really being Bella – being so indifferent to her dad and Jake and Billy, wishing to be dead, not caring whether or not the people she'd spent years of her life with would mourn her. It was inconceivable, and I'd been reborn.

We had to pull up an extra chair from the basement for Jake to use, but we managed to make it work. I had the food set out on the kitchen table, and everyone served themselves before taking their plates to the living room to watch college boys dribble a ball around.

Billy and Dad were engrossed in the game, but did take the time to tell me they enjoyed the food during the commercial breaks. Jake was a bit less invested, more interested in in eating and nudging me with his foot whenever he noticed my attention drifting.

"You okay?" He asked me quietly, face half-stuffed with lasagna.

I nodded, scraped the last of the cheese and sauce onto my fork, and stuck it in my mouth to avoid talking. I wanted to enjoy this time with them – I was – I just couldn't push my eventual confrontation with the Cullens out of my mind.

Jake didn't buy my halfhearted reassurance. He gobbled down the remaining bite of lasagna then stood, jerking his head up in the direction of the stairs. He wanted to talk.

With I sigh, I rose as well.

Even though I tried to take his plate, he took mine and darted into the kitchen to put both sets of dishes in the sink before lightly taking my arm and leading me up to the second floor. Billy and Charlie-Dad didn't notice – or, if they did, they didn't care. Score for sports, distracting parents from their kids' actions.

"Okay, what's going on with you?" Jake asked, bouncing as he dropped down onto my bed.

Jacob Black was a lot of things. Nervous. Shy. A bit playful, yes, easily distracted, sure, but he wasn't stupid. Something was going on.

Ed had gone off to that party on the other end of town, got herself drunk and high and probably had a blast, and somehow ended up in the Cullens' house the next morning. God, when his dad heard that he'd almost lost it.

Billy Black didn't get angry easily, and when he did it was more stone cold irritation than red hot rage, but he'd hung up on Charlie and very nearly convinced Jake to drive all the way up there and pick her up. He knew his dad didn't like the Cullens, but that was excessive, wasn't it? They weren't bad people – hell, they'd picked up a stumbling girl on the side of the road and taken care of her when she was too out of it to find her way home, they couldn't be monsters. His dad had still called Charlie back later, once Ed was home, and asked to speak to her; Jake hadn't felt the least bit guilty eavesdropping on that conversation. It was five solid minutes of his dad asking some form of "Are you sure you're alright, Loretta?" and Ed responding "Yeah, Uncle Billy, really, I'm okay" over and over in a circle until Ed said something about dinner burning and hung up.

So, yeah, his dad was paranoid, that was nothing new.

What was new? Now Ed was acting like he had something to be paranoid about.

She had been quiet all night, not even paying attention to the game or himself or his dad, just pushing her food around her plate, a far away look in her eyes. So it was time for an intervention.

"What?" Ed laughed, forced it out through her teeth. "Nothing's going on, Jake."

He stared her down, leaning back against the headboard of her bed. "I know you better than that, Ed, you're going to have to try harder to lie to me."

"I'm not-" she paused, then she heaved a huge sigh and sat down next to him. She didn't look at him, just watched her hands as they smoothed out the wrinkles on her duvet. "I really can't tell you anything, Jay."

"Sounds like you just don't want to."

Her eyes were dark, brown glinting in the low lamp light as she met his gaze, and, not for the first time, Jake was struck by how intense she could be. "You're right, I don't."

"Why not?" He pushed. "It's obviously bothering you, Ed, let me help."

"You can't, alright? Even if I told you anything you still couldn't help."

"How do you know?"

Her face was like granite, lips pulled into a tight line. "Trust. Me."

"Was it that party?" Shit, had something happened? Fuck, fuck, had somebody- "Ed, Ed if something happened you need to tell somebody – your dad! – you can't let them get away with-"

"No!" She looked shocked that he'd even think something like that, face open and confused. "No, nothing like that Jay, don't worry, okay? It's nothing I can't handle. I'm just..." She sighed again, tucked her hair behind her ear. "I'm just a little anxious. It'll pass soon enough, I promise."

Neither one of them looked away.

Three weeks of house arrest hadn't been the worst punishment I faced. Sure, I had been thinking about going to the dance but there hadn't been any solid plans and, hey, there would still be prom. No, Charlie-Dad hadn't even limited my internet access or taken away my phone so, aside from the lingering guilt, I wasn't all that affected. I was more social in this life, true, but I would always be a bit of a recluse at heart.

Scrolling through the pictures on Jessica's MySpace page, I noted that the girls who had gone to the dance had all looked beautiful, outshining their dates with little effort. My mind wandered, then, as I studied the photos. MySpace was a mess. Facebook had just started up last year and hardly anyone I knew had an account, preferring the tacky, neon-riddled devil they knew over the one they didn't.

That would change, I scoffed softly. Social media, its intense upswing yet to come, kept making me nervous. How would vampires survive in the 2010s, when everyone had their face and their history and their business posted everywhere, all the time?

Not only that, but facial recognition security measures were in the works. Traffic and security cameras, fuck, how would they remain anonymous and hidden when the internet kept everything forever? Conspiracy theories about vampires had to exist, some humans somewhere had to have an inkling of some sort of the supernatural, and once technology advanced their secret would be blown wide open. It just wasn't realistic, to think immortal beings of pure perfection could continue their secret existence in a world of selfies and Instagram and YouTube – all it would take was a vampire stepping into the background of a shot, the background of multiple shots, a graduation photo, and maybe a human would recognize their long-lost classmate from 1976.

The red-eyed vampires – the people drinkers – they would probably last longer than the Cullens and their ilk, just by virtue of never socializing with humans unless those humans were slated to die.

Maybe I was overreacting. Maybe the Cullens saw the way the tide was turning and had a brilliant plan... but what if they didn't?

A heavy sigh escaped me as I flipped open my phone. Whatever, why was I even letting herself be concerned about that? It wasn't my problem! I shouldn't care, not one bit, not one iota! Shoving my stupid concerns for that band of terrifying mythical beings out of my head, my eyes scanned the text I'd sent Alice for the hundredth time.

My grounding's over. When do you want me to come?

Alice's reply?

Tomorrow.

My death warrant.

I had to stop thinking like that, it would give me heart problems. If they hadn't killed me yet, that meant they weren't going to, right? They were curious and angry I knew their secret – the secret I'd stupidly blabbed all over Carlisle in a drunken stupor – but hopefully not murderous.

As my computer shut down, the monitor making that old static noise as the light flickered out behind the glass, I plodded over to my bed and pulled the mattress up. My book of Twilight secrets lay on the box-spring, looking like the worlds most battered, most innocent notebook. I grabbed it and, without flipping through the pages as I normally did, shoved it deep down into my backpack. Who really cared how callous I'd been when I'd written it? They were big boys and girls, and throwing a book into their hands and running away would be easier than having to sit down and force the story out between chattering teeth.

Could it possibly be that easy?

A sharp kick and my bag was slumped against the wall, all hunched and flopped over – like how I felt. I collapsed down onto my bed and wiggled underneath the covers, not bothering to change out of my school clothes before reaching over and switching off the light. It was only six-thirty, but the earlier I went to bed the earlier I could get up, and then I could get my saga over and done with.

Paige would be back from Italy on Monday, I remembered, and I let myself imagine I might even be alive to welcome her home.

Saturday morning rolled around much faster than I realized I wanted. I talked big game about getting everything over with, but now that I was faced with the sun peaking out through grey morning clouds I knew I was full of shit. All I wanted was to climb back into bed and turn back the clock. Preferably all the way back to my first death, where I could make my case to not be reborn and just drift away as nothing in the vastness of eternity. Though, I was lying about that, too. I was too scared of death, at least, most of the time.

God, my own thoughts were making my head hurt.

I showered, put my hair into a high ponytail, and winged my eyeliner out so far I wouldn't have looked out of place in an avant garde art exhibition. It was stupid, but it made me feel more confident. Paired with my only leather jacket and a pair of bright red Doc Martens I felt, short of donning a cloak of chain mail, as ready as I could ever be.

Careful not to wake my dad as I left the house, backpack on my back and town map in hand, I walked with heavy feet to my truck. Tossing my bag onto the floor under the passenger seat and leaving the map on the seat itself, folded open to the right page, I took a moment to do some calming breaths. The truck still smelled a bit like smoke, from Billy, and gasoline, and I found the mix comforting as I threw the stick to the reverse position and backed out of the driveway.

I had the Cullens' address circled in red ink on my map. Every so often I would glance down to make sure I was going the right way, missing Google Maps like burning. I definitely didn't want them to think I was bailing and have them come after me.

I didn't turn the radio on, though I considered it. No, the entire trip was the sort of sombre experience I needed silence to appreciate – also, I didn't want 2005 pop to be the montage music for my death march.

No, no I needed to think positive thoughts.

Right.

Fuck, fuck, I was almost there. Traffic was light – the only cars were heading in the opposite direction towards Port Angeles and Seattle – and for the first time I wished I could get stuck in a traffic jam. Or have an accident. Why did Alice push me out of the way, anyway? If that car crushed me half to death I wouldn't be in this mess to begin with. Maybe there's a vampire with the power to turn back time and they can fix that right up for me.

God, God, I was turning onto the side-road and my knuckles were white on the steering wheel as I clutched it for dear life, and every horrible way a vampire could rip me apart with their bare hands was running through my mind.

A scenario flew past my eyes, where I told Charlie-Dad the truth and got him to pack up everything we owned and we drove far, far away from Forks, spent the rest of our days running away from the least conventional vegetarian family ever formed, but I couldn't even revel in that fantasy for a moment before reason broke through the haze.

First, he'd never even believe me; he'd sooner commit me to a psychiatric facility for treatment than flee the state with me. Second, well, even if Alice couldn't see my future, vampires could still track us by scent.

My eyes felt nearly glazed over and I blinked a smattering of tears away, then looked back out the windshield just in time to slam on the brakes inches away from the shiny Volvo in the Cullens' driveway. My chest fluttered anxiously and I gasped, the sound pathetic and wet. With surprisingly steady hands I shifted into park and pulled the keys out of the ignition, but kept the ring clenched tight in my fist – as if a key could be used as a weapon against a supernatural creature.

Then as if I wasn't on edge enough, there was a knock on the window beside my head.

I whipped around and was face to face with Emmett, his grin looking fake even to my human eyes.

He laughed, but it didn't sound real. "You comin' out?"

Nodding slightly, I grabbed my bag from the floor of the truck and pushed the door open.

Edward was all too glad to share his observations if you got on his nerves, so Emmett was well aware most humans thought he was loud, and intimidating, and a bit dull, but he was fine with that. He was a vampire; there were no truly stupid vampires. So what if he preferred a straightforward fight to a game of strategy and wits? That didn't mean he was incapable of doing both.

Without a power that relied on manipulating other people, that knew things about others' futures or emotions or thoughts, Emmett had developed a good sense of people just from being around them. He was going to suss her out.

Standing in-front of her – towering over her, really – he realized how afraid the girl was. She was good at hiding it, for a human, but he could see the beads of sweat on her hairline and the goosebumps on her skin and the shake of her hands. He was used to humans being at least a little afraid of him, just from his stature, but this was the most terrified he'd seen one since the last time he lost control.

It wasn't often he could honestly smell the fear emanating from a human's pores, but Etta Swan reeked of it.

Part of him, the part that still wished for human blood on a daily basis, found it amusing; the other parts just thought it kind of sad. This girl – unlike most of the humans they came across – seemed fully aware of how helpless she was in their presence, how little she could fight if they decided to kill her. "You ready for the Spanish Inquisition?" He joked, ushering her up the steps towards the front door.

"Oh no," she said weakly and, God, her smile was so forced and wobbly Emmett's dead heart went out to her. "Now I'm expecting it."

He stopped, needing a millisecond to register what she said, and when it clicked he threw his head back and laughed. It wasn't all that funny, but the girl was trying. He found himself hoping they wouldn't have to kill her. "Just head on in," he said, grin still evident in his voice.

She glanced at him over her shoulder and it seemed like an involuntary movement – like she was searching for reassurance anywhere she could grasp – so he ignored it. Loretta Swan put her hand on the door handle, and before she could push the door fell ajar. Emmett heard her gulp. "It's like a haunted house," she whispered, pupils so dilated they completed eclipsed the chocolate brown of her irises. She hesitated on the threshold long enough Emmett thought he might have to pick her up and carry her inside; luckily, just as he began to consider it, she entered. Standing in the doorway, the human looked smaller than her height should allow.

"Go on, they're all in the living room."

Loretta went, slowly. She slipped her shoes off and lined them up on the mat next to the hall closet with one hand, her other clenched around the strap of her bag. Her fingers curled, then uncurled, then curled again – a nervous gesture. She stayed crouching, adjusting the position of her shoes with tiny movements, her shoulders hunched up awkwardly to her ears, her fingers just clenching and unclenching on the strap of her bag.

"Hurry up!" Rosalie snapped from the living room.

The human jumped violently, so violently her bag fell to the ground with a smack, and Emmett heard Rose snort incredulously.

"She's scared, so scared I can smell it," he whispered, too low and quick for Etta to catch. "She wants to leave – obviously – but she keeps trying to psych herself up. I don't think she'll try to lie."

"Thank you, Emmett," came Carlisle's subdued reply, words just as quiet.

Loretta had straightened up and was looking him right in the face. She was shaking, but her gaze was firm. "If you're going to talk about me can you at least let me hear it?"

"How'd you know?"

She fidgeted with her bag, which was back in place on her shoulder. "Your lips blur, and you look off to the side."

Emmett laughed, then steered her towards the rest of his family. "You're good."

"Not really," she said. "If I were good I wouldn't be here."

Well, he had to give her that one. She wasn't wrong.

He walked behind her, looking over her head to meet everyone's eyes. Alice, Rosalie, Edward, and Jasper were sitting on the couch, while Esme sat in one of the armchairs. Carlisle stood behind her, both hands resting lightly on the chair-back. If Emmett didn't know better, he would think his father had no worries at all. If he hadn't been there when Alice and Edward shared their revelation, when they collectively decided to keep it secret from the human, he would think it was just a normal family meeting.

There was a second chair and a space between Rose and Jasper on the couch, but none of them expected Loretta to voluntarily sit between two perfect predators.

Emmett knew his whole family heard the human's throat catch as she swallowed and, though he couldn't see her face, Rosalie's answering disdainful expression meant the girl was more obviously terrified than just seconds before.

Carlisle smiled – closed lips, baring their teeth always made humans uncomfortable – and motioned to the empty chair. "Please, Miss Swan, have a seat."

She didn't move.

"Sit down," Rose spat. If Carlisle hadn't made them all glut on animal blood before this Emmett was sure her eyes would be black with rage.

Carlisle shot her a chiding look. "Rosalie."

All the while, Loretta stood stalk still.

Emmett rolled his eyes good naturedly and clapped a hand on the human's shoulder, perhaps a bit too hard considering her violent flinch, then pushed her towards the designated spot. "C'mon girly," he said with a grin. "We don't bite."

I dropped into the chair like a stone, keeping my eyes on all the Cullens even as I maneuvered my bag off my shoulder and into my lap. It was almost kind, the way they'd set up the room. My back was to a corner, every vampire well within my view – not that it would help if they decided to kill me, but it gave me some comfort that I'd at least see the blur coming. Emmett was still watching me, that boyish smile on his face, and my next words were out before I could think better of it.

"Not even if I ask nicely?"

Then I realized how much effort they put into doing those little human motions – breathing, swallowing, blinking – because in less than a second they stopped everything, became cold marble statues watching me with contempt. I could feel something rumble in my chest, and it wasn't until I saw Rosalie's lips twist in anger that I knew she was growling, so low and so deep, nearly subsonic, it rattled my rib cage.

"Rosalie!" Esme didn't snap or yell, but her voice was forceful all the same.
"She's mocking us," the blonde snarled. "She's probably already told all her stupid, human friends. The Volturi will be on us any day!"

I was cold and my feet were shaking in my shoes, but my best defence had always been a sarcastic offence. "You do know they'd kill me if they knew I know? Like, they'd drink all my blood and rip my head off, you know that, right?"

Rosalie fixed me with a chilling glare. "You have some sort of power, they would rather turn you and keep it for themselves."

"Rosalie, that is enough."

It took me a moment to realize that hard tone – like stone, unyielding – came from Carlisle. I watched the interaction with wide eyes, the way Rosalie sat straighter yet still looked cowed, how Carlisle managed to glare without furrowing his brow.

The minute I opened my mouth again, all the Cullens honed in on my face. "No, I shouldn't've joked – it was in bad, uh, taste... It's a defence mechanism, sorry."

"Yes, well, perhaps it would be best to get on with it," Carlisle said, managing to sound kind despite the dismissive edge to his words. "Miss Swan?"

"Right," I muttered, then fumbled with the zipper on my bag and pulled my notebook out. "Well, everything's in here-" I gestured with the book. "-should I give it to you, or, uh, read it out loud?"

"You have it all written down?" Edward asked softly, the rasp of his voice almost incredulous.

I didn't meet his eyes, instead fixating on my feet. "I started forgetting things," I explained. "I was three or four and it was getting harder to remember key details, so I had to."

"You thought you were reincarnated when you were three?" Esme asked.

"Yes."
Emmett laughed. "And your first thought was that you were in a book, huh?"

"Emmett," Carlisle warned.

He held his hands up in surrender. "Just sayin', sounds ridiculous."

"Tch, you're right about that." Rosalie scoffed.

"Yes," I said firmly, and part of me wanted desperately to prove them all wrong, to prove I knew what I was saying. "Maybe not my first thought, but close to, and even then I didn't really believe until kindergarten – and I met more people who fit the narrative – but I had a hunch. I didn't want to forget, just in-case I was right. And I was." I flipped through the notebook to the very first page and turned it around to show them. Everything was written in shaky crayon letters.

"Twilight, New Moon, Eclipse, Breaking Dawn?" Jasper read aloud.

"The titles of the books."

Rosalie muttered something I couldn't hear and sneered.

No-one reacted to whatever it was, instead focusing on the pages I'd revealed.

It was insensitive of me, I knew that, but I didn't care anymore. All thought of leaving them to read on their own had vanished. I wanted to win. I wanted to get one over on them, because they had all the power and I needed my fair share Turning the book back to me, I kept flipping. "At first it was just little snippets that came to mind – that's the first few pages – but then I started putting it in order.

"First was the, uh, well, you guys – the characters," I explained, then showed them the corresponding page, this one written in jagged pencil strokes. "This is Edward's – he was a main one. Birth name, history, power, personality, all that stuff."

Even if they killed me now they'd never be able to forget they were just stories written down in some bloated YA novel, not after I'd shoved it in their faces.

Edward's face twitched as he read my callous notes. I figured he was especially focused on the part in his history section that read, Ed's rebellious phase (1929? 1930?) - went off on his own to hunt humans, only killed abusers/rapists/scumbags/etc. I kept my eyes darting between different spots on the Cullens', not meeting their eyes but not wanting to stare any longer at the floor.

"That's... quite thorough," Carlisle said, still going over the page.

"So you know everything?" Alice asked softly, looking like a deer in the headlights. "Everything about us and our lives, even before-"

Edward muttered, "There's no guarant-"

"So?" She hissed. "That's closer than I've ever come before."

I wasn't following. "What?"

Suddenly Alice was there in front of me, on her knees, clutching my hand in both of hers. "Loretta, do you know where I came from?"

Oh. I nodded slowly, painfully aware of the hard gazes of each of Alice's family members boring into my skin. "I... I have an idea. I'm not sure on everything..."

"Alice, you can't really think she knows," Rosalie hissed.

In a second I reacted. "You were born Mary Alice Brandon in Biloxi, Mississippi in the early 1900s. You were either nineteen or twenty when you were turned."

The silence was, as they say, deafening.

AN: Well... it's a been a while, hasn't it? Sorry about that - I don't really have any excuses you guys would care about, ha. Can't promise when the next chapter will be out, but I thought it was time for this one - I kept thinking it needed to be longer to be satisfying and that just made me wait longer, so... yeah.

Thank you to everyone who's stuck with this story and sent reviews/followed/favourited. Hell, even the reviews telling me they don't like the story are ones I respect despite them making me feel bad lol; it's always good to have different opinions on my writing so I can maybe see flaws I never noticed before.