It's in Our Blood

White lines starred back at me. This place seemed familiar. She was asleep, lying dormant within me. That brought an immense sense of relief. My hands softly clamped the sheets beneath me, creating soft little indents as I drew my fingers into a loosely held fist.

Flashes of Bella flew into my head. My throat tightened in guilt. How could I have let it go so far? How could I have done that?

I slowly pressed myself up. My clothes were changed to a loose fitting white like dress. I let out a bitter chuckle. What irony. Dressed in white, symbolizing innocence, purity… And yet, I am the complete opposite.

I moved my legs, letting them drop to the side of the bed. My bare feet pressed against the warm marble floor. It was comforting to say the least. The wafting smell of the tea beside me entranced my senses.

The sun seeped through the curtain cracks. It was probably late noon from the position of the sun, suggesting that everyone would be at school and Carlisle would be at work. The heat from the sun warmed my cool skin slightly.

I flexed my arm, the right where Victoria bit me. Was it possible that her venom had triggered something from my own? I half prayed that was the cause. That it was not my fault that I acted how I did. However, if that really was the cause… Then that is a huge problem. And the safest solution to ensure nothing happens would be to…

I bit the bottom of my lip, my arms tense. I looked over to my side, where the tea laid. My hand clasped against the cup handle. Heat steamed lightly at the top. I placed it against my lips, letting the hot liquid flow into my body. I placed it back down on the table, feeling a slight rustle of paper underneath the cup.

I looked more closely. Several papers were strewn across the table. Newspapers to be more exact. I licked my lips slightly, getting rid of the taste of herbs. I narrowed my eyebrows. Where they what I think they were?

I picked up a light stack of them. They were old and brittle. I gently flipped through the pages, glancing at the dates. 1918, 1915, 1912. Don’t tell me Edward actually looked for proof.

I swore loudly. I grabbed the rest of the papers, shuffling through them. There were many different pictures, documents of the war. But several of them stood out to me. The ones of my parents. And the worst part is…

All of them were dated sometime in the 1910s.

I bit my bottom lip, my arm reached out to the one in 1914. My arm shook slightly as I delicately picked up the sheet of paper. In bold letters, the headline wrote ‘DEAD! The End of Richard Elliot Knowles’ Reign!!!’

A large black and white photo was underneath, illustrating the ruins that were at the lobby of the mansion. It was clean of blood, probably by the orders of the government to hide the evidence of murder and shield the public from the knowledge of the bloodbath that had occurred in the strong security of my father’s home.

I bitterly grimaced, trying to withhold my anguish. I peered down at the article.

‘Richard Elliot Knowles, founder of Wish industries was discovered dead at his home. A devastating heart attack has ended the strong, powerful individual after victoriously battling and surviving influenza for several months.

The cause of the heart attack has not been discovered nor has any information regarding the tragic death of Knowles has been disclosed to the public. Knowles miraculous victory against the epidemic of influenza brought new hope to many infected citizens.

The question medical experts are now facing is does the virus in the influenza have the ability to mutate and adapt to its new environment? Have we underestimated the abilities of this disease?

However, startling new evidence shows that the reason for his death may not be entirely based on his medical condition. After all, Knowles was given best medical treatment from the doctors in Europe.

Knowles’ mansion was found broken in, wrecked, tore apart at the seams, possibly by thieves, robbers or even assassins. The tight security created from the latest technology of Knowles’ home was left perfectly in tact. So what exactly had occurred in the home of Richard Elliot Knowles?

After many well researched investigations, the case was abruptly ended due to a lack of suspects on Richard Knowles’ death by the government and the heads of Wish Industries Board. Even the industries’ competition have been left bewildered and scandalized in fear of influenza or the unidentified assassin.

Knowles’ officials have denied such claims of murder but the fact remains the same. The death Richard Elliot Knowles shocks and will continue to shock future generations.

Now Wish industries will be placed in the hands of Ms. Rosalina Marylind Knowles, sister to Richard Elliot Knowles. In a recent conference with the press, government official and Wish Industry Board members, she has proven her worth in running the company.

Ms. Knowles has already fired many incompetent members allowing the company to prosper as effectively as Richard Knowles has run it.’ [For more information on Wish Industries, continue to page.6]

I read the columnist’s name, Portia Bynesworth. One of the best and most credited writers of Europe. Meeting her as a child was a thrill. Her words and wisdom have not gone unnoticed and it was only fitting for her to write about my father.

It was frightening to know how insightful she was. How close she came to finding out the truth from a far and as a normal third party watcher. Bynesworth has been a success in all aspects of writing whether it was a child's storybook, a novelist, a columnist, a biographer, interviewer, script writer or anything else, Bynesworth excelled.

I glanced at the many articles, flipping through them once more. Many were written by Bynesworth or other well credited columnists. However one of them stood out. One that linking the secret relationship between my mother and my father. It was one that I have never seen before in my life and it was probably because it was written after my move to Alaska.

‘It seems to be the lovable iconic CEO Head of Wish Industries has some secrets. After clearing the home of Richard Elliot Knowles, a second will has been displayed to the public. One concerning that of an Esme Platt- Evenson- Knowles and a Katrina Eleanor Knowles.

Esme Platt- Evenson- Knowles, otherwise known as Mrs. Knowles is the birth mother of little Katrina Knowles. She is the wife of Richard Elliot Knowles and their family together has been kept a secret, a wise decision made to shield the little girl from the prying paparazzi. More importantly from the enemies of Knowles.

Ms. Rosalina Knowles, sister of Richard Knowles, confirms their marriage and refuses to speak more on the subject. Even the workers of Knowles remain silent and loyal to the deceased man.

Mrs. Knowles has also been confirmed dead. On a dreadful night, she was kidnapped. The strange incident in the Arizona forest taken place several years ago confirms the death of a human corpse belonging to none other than Mrs. Knowles.

But what does that mean for the little girl Katrina?

Little Katrina Knowles is the sole heiress of Richard and Esme Knowles’ work. She has the rights to everything own by the couple as soon as she hits 18. She has been taught by Europe’s brightest and little Katrina is already more than capable of taking over the world.

Such renowned authorities like Ms. Portia Bynesworth have had the pleasure of teaching the little ms. Europe’s socialites have spoken about the miraculous wonder that is little Katrina. She is this century’s Albert Einstein’s prodigy, nothing less than a force to be reckoned with.

However, little Katrina’s whereabouts have yet to be identified as she was found by authorities on the night of Knowles death. She has been stowed away from the public for her own safety.

Let us all, pray for little Katrina’s safety. The anguish she has endured has surpassed what many feel in a lifetime. Today is little Katrina’s eighth birthday. Hopefully she will one day return to take the throne left by her father.’

I pushed the article roughly on the table, knocking into several other pages. They rustled their way to the floor, landing softly in a clump. I picked up them, shuffling them softly, putting them back on the table.

The last article of the pile was about Alaska. About how there were no survivors, how the screams of terror had reached the distant town. How when help had finally arrived it was already too late, everything had burned away.

I put the pages of paper back down on the table, shoving them away painfully. Unwilling to read anymore. It was like a knife driving into the already existent wound, digging deeper and deeper. It hurt too much.

I got up from the bed. The room was virtually empty and had no other clothes for me to change into. I was stuck wearing this weird floaty white hospital like gown.

I walked out of the room and down the hallway. It seems like no one was here. The Cullens were out. I searched for the exit. I could escape from here and no one would be able to stop me.

The front doorway was in my sights. I dashed to the door, unlocking it and twisting the doorknob. All it did was merely shake. I furrowed my eyebrows. I tried again, but the door wouldn’t open. I slammed my fist against the door. It shook.

I let out a groan of frustration. Glancing at my right, a piece of paper sat neatly by the vase of flowers. In black thick letters, Alice wrote that it was locked both inside and out. I sighed in aggravation. Damn her for being a seer.

Leaning against the door, I slowly slid down, sitting onto the floor. I let out another sigh. What should I do now?

Deciding to go do something, I picked myself off the ground and went exploring. The household of the Cullens’ was amazing. It was simple, elegant and not even close to overbearing. Most of the walls were white but it was that effortless type of sophistication that made the home so comfortable.

I opened many doors on the main floor. Many of them had a couch, a plant, books, a painting or two, maybe a sculpture, and sometimes a TV. The kitchen was extravagant. It looked like a fancy chef kitchen which is quite ironic seeing as the Cullens are vampires that do not eat or drink anything except blood.

However when I finally reached to the end of the hallway, there was a particular room that was absolutely stunning. And not because it was designed in an ostentatious way, it was what was in it that was amazing.

Inside was one of the most beautiful grand pianos that I’ve ever seen. Quite clearly reminiscing of the one performed on by Chopin when he was played his final Paris concert before retiring. The detail at the bottom of the legs was graceful and the piano was an amazing polished white. It was clear that this piano was well taken care of.

I pulled out the matching pallid bench. It was incredibly smooth. I sat down on it, pulling open the cover over the keys. The keys were all polished. My reflection gazed upon me clearly.


‘No! I can’t do it!’ I shouted stubbornly, crossing my arms.

‘Honey, honey.’ My mother soothed, ‘You can! Don’t give up so easily. You just need to practice more.’

‘No mommy!’ I cried, ‘I’m horrible.’

‘Baby, you are amazing. Even Ms. Carolyn says you are brilliant. You’re only four and you can compete equally with people who have been practicing for decades.’ She reassured, ‘Rina honey, you can do it.’

I looked at my mom’s heartening eyes, ‘really?’

‘Yes really.’ She smiled, ‘Now come on. I’ll help you.’

My fingers easily grazed over the keys, playing Berceuse by Chopin. This was one of the more difficult songs, requiring great technique and incredible musicality. It was a rush of euphoria nonetheless because despite the hard work to get to that point, when you can finally do something, you just can’t help but to do that same thing over and over again.

I picked up the pace, speeding over the quick scale variation. I pushed my right hand to go faster, faster, keep the speed. Then I paused, taking a deep breath before pursuing the calm melody, quite similar to the aftermath of the storm.

I slowed my pace, pressing deeper into the key, creating a softer more enriched sound. I lightly stepped on the pedal, allowing a distant feeling to enter. Finally, the piece came to an end. I let out a huge exhale, letting my hands rest on the keyboard.

Soft sounds of applaud were heard. I turned my head, resting my hands on my lap. Someone that I did not entirely want to see at this time. Esme stood at the doorway with a large grin, gracing her appearance with a cup of tea.

“That was beautiful,” she complimented, “Not even Edward can play as beautifully as you. I congratulate your teacher.”

I restrained a grimace. She was one of my teachers. How long was it ago since I had last seen her properly? It has been a century.

Esme walked over with the tea, giving me the cup, “Drink it; it’ll help you feel better.”

She sat down at the coffee table, picking up the scattered papers. Her lips graced a slight smile. Esme looked at me head on.

“You should go back upstairs and rest for a bit.” She told me, “I’m not holding you against your will but Nyx promised that she would swing by later and pick you up.”

I looked away.

“I don’t want you to injure yourself again. So get some rest.” Esme smiled.

And with that she exited the room. I stared at the liquid. More than countless of times I have wondered how life would be like if my mother never got kidnapped, if my father was never murdered, if I had gotten the chance to live a normal human life, grow old and happy.

I let the liquid touch my lips, only sipping a bit of the tea. It was hot and I did not feel like drinking any thing. I went over to the little coffee table and put the tea cup down.

Walking out of the room, I could hear Esme’s cheery hums in the kitchen. I wonder if the rest of the Cullens are back yet. I checked the time on the wall.

1:13

It was too early. School has at least two hours before it ends. But Nyx should’ve been done by now considering we only had a half day of classes. I decided to follow my mother’s orders and get some rest.

I headed up the stairs, slowly. An eerie feeling overwhelmed me. One of uncertainty. Frustration. Chills went down my spine. However, it wasn’t an uncomfortable feeling. It was actually a relaxing sensation.

Something felt different when I walked down the upper floor hall. A tingling feeling entered my stomach, as if I was anticipating an event. It overwhelmed the anxiety within me.

A sudden realization hit me. Someone else besides Esme was in this house. And they were on the upper floor. Their presence became more prominent as I headed down the hall. Geez this is a huge house.

I opened the door to my room, bumping into a hard marble form. I staggered backwards, ice cold arms reached out to prevent my fall. I regained my balance, staring up at the cold figure before me. I think my jaw dropped to the ground.

“You alright?” asked Edward Cullen.

I nodded my head hesitantly, confused with his strange behavior. He was fighting his own emotions.

“I um…” said Edward, trying to force out his words, “I’m sorry.”

He let go of my arms once he concluded I was stable.

“I’m sorry I didn’t believe your words. I’m not going to tell you to stay away. You saved Bella and it was not your fault that Victoria’s venom acted up on you.” apologized Edward.

I was shocked to say the least.

He rubbed the back of his head, messing up his already tousled hair, “You’re family. Regardless of how anyone feels.”

I was too stunned to say anything.

Edward looked away pointedly, “I guess the only thing I can do is say I’m sorry for everything I’ve done. You didn’t deserve it.”

He was being sincere. Unrealistically truthful and sincere.

I pushed myself to say something, “I um… Thank you.” I forced out.

Edward gave me a warm smile, “No one besides Alice, Jasper, Bella and Jacob know about your hereditary. We figured it would be best if you told everyone else yourself.”

I gave a non-committal shrug, rubbing the back of my arm. Confrontation was not exactly my strongest point.

“But I do have one question.” Edward pointed out, “Mind telling me what you and Nyx are?”

“We’re human.” I answered quickly.

Edward frowned, “That’s bull.”

I gave a light smile, “Thought I might as well give that a try.”

Edward replied with a chuckled, like melodious chimes. I didn’t realize he was so pleasant to be around when he didn’t hate you.

“We’re… Well… It’s… I’m…” I struggled, “It’s complicated.”

Edward gave a cute, Nyx worthy curious puppy look, with the eager confused head tilt.

“How so?”

“What I am and what Nyx is…” I spoke carefully, “Are two entirely separate beings.”

I was conflicted with myself. I did not want to speak on behalf of Nyx, but if I did not tell about myself right now, there might not be such opportunities as perfect as this to say.

“I’m not human. Well I am, but just not in the sense where I am considered human.” I corrected myself, creating loopholes, “Um… I guess what I’m trying to say is I’m not a complete human.”

Edward gave me a furrowed look.

“Back in Alaska… When the coven of vampires came and killed the village…” I said softly, “There was one vampire that bit me.” I spoke leaving out the part where he vividly told me my blood sung to him, “Well he didn’t bit me exactly. He drank my blood. And then he forced me to drink his blood.”

I whispered the last part quietly. Edward did not bother to hide is shock.

“I um… I should have died. But I didn’t. Because I got saved by my mother. She didn’t realize it was me.” I murmured, “I became unconscious and when I woke up she disappeared. I didn’t know where I was or where I was suppose to go and then I ended up back at the village.”

I blocked out the screams that echoed in my mind.

“When I got back, there was still half of the coven still killing everyone. The entire place was up in flames. The one who drank my blood had a mate. And she set her aim at me.” I told him, “I felt weak. I couldn’t stop them. And then I met Nyx.”

“What did she do?” whispered Edward.

“She killed them. They were newborns.” I simply explained, “Nyx didn’t leave my side.”

“What are you then?”

“I think I’m a half breed.”