preface

I have always been a quiet person. I always hated being surround by people. It made me feel, closed in, uniform. I preferred to be different. I would be the girl you saw sitting in the back of the classroom, reading or quietly working. Sometimes people try to talk to me out of the blue, they get the impulse to "talk to the quiet girl" and they catch me off guard. I immediately respond with whatever comes to mind. More often than not, I could care less about what they are saying and have a simple, to the point response that is normally along the lines of "I don't care." Usually they never speak to me again, which I am entirely fine with.1

I try to keep my hair over one of my eyes. I don’t like the sun and prefer to keep it from my eyes. I used my hair like a black curtain to block sun as it covered most of one half of my face. It also helped to keep people from looking into my eyes. Green is not an unnatural color for eyes, but my eyes are such a pale green that people tend to stare. Even though my face never really registered emotion, I felt better having my hair to cover it should it arise.2

When I ride the bus I try to look as uninviting as possible so that no one will sit next to me. I sit and read my book, glaring at anyone who glances at me. My glare is very frightening for humans. Most of the time the sense that I am different and don't need to encourage them so much. They sense that my mind doesn’t work the same way as their's, that the way I live is no where near their's. The despise me, without any plausible reasons. I have grown used to it and I don’t care. They can stare and gossip all they want, because I know that I am in an entirely different level than them. They can not compare to me. 3

My life was just going to run its course. I would find a suitable mate, have a child or two to fill my debt to my rare lineage. I would eventually grow older, inching my way to the unavoidable fate of death. Then I would die, just another being leaving the world. I would not be too badly missed, not even by my parents or my mate. Not even my children would mourn for my death. To my kind it is simply something that happens, and it happens to all. We rarely have much emotional ties to anyone.4

I thought my life was just the way It was supposed to be. Then something rather unpredictable happened. It was something my kind tended to avoid like the black plague. At first I thought that I could handle the situation better, but I was wrong. I never suspected that so much viciousness could be bottled inside one body. That so much blood could be spilled without any reason at all.5

I never expected that I could actually fall in love,6

especially with him.7