Don't Let Me Be Yours - Alec Volturi

1. Forks

Rainwater swooshed down the window in gentle, rhythmic intervals as I stared out into the storm. I was in Bud's, an old local diner one on the outskirts of town; it was dated and worn, but it was comfortable on stormy days like today. It wasn't a cozy coffee shop like one's found in the big city, but Forks, Washington was a small town, and with that came small town options.

I didn't mind. I enjoyed small town life; peace and quiet, and I was always left to my own devices. People didn't bother me and I didn't bother them. A quiet, simple life was how I wanted to pass my days and Forks provided that for me.

I leaned my elbows on the Formica tabletop and cupped my chin with one of my hands as I continued to stare out of the window. The coffee cup sat empty next to my laptop, which was open and displaying my most recent manuscript I was working on. It was hard to tell how long I'd been looking out the window, but I knew I was just allowing myself to be distracted from getting any work done.

"Would you like a refill, ma'am?" the lone waitress asked me, catching me off guard. I was so lost in thought that I hadn't seen her approach.

"Sure," I replied. I kept to myself as my coffee was poured, only looking up briefly to thank her. She understood and left without further comment.

I inhaled deeply, enjoying the sharp aroma of a fresh cup of coffee before fixing it up with a few packets of sugar and creamer at the left end of the table. After, I finally forced myself to look at my laptop screen. My manuscript was hobby work, but even so, whenever I sat down at a table with a goal in mind I tried my best to reach it. The longer I stared out the window, though, the more my resolve eroded; it was one of those days where keeping my fingers on the keyboard felt like pulling teeth.

I took a sip of my coffee and let my mind wander again. I reflected on the decades I'd spent on my writing, and all of the full notebooks and unfinished projects I had tucked away in my personal belongings back home. I kept them in a trunk I'd bought back in 1924; it was old, but solidly built and had held up well over the decades, nearing a full century.

If my trunk was old, then I was old, too, although no one would know it by just looking at me. My hair, which flowed over my shoulders and down my back in waves was the same hue of deep espresso as it was the day I was born. My dark brown eyes were gentle, and my general features were soft. I tried to disguise my round face shape with bangs that almost brushed my eyebrows, but it could only do so much for me. People's first impression of me still tended be naive and shy.

I body was agile, though, and my mind was sharp; And it was all due to the fact that I wasn't born a typical person. On the contrary, my mother was a human and my father was a vampire.

I snapped my laptop shut and cut off that train of thought. I didn't want to dwell on my tragic backstory. They were both dead, I' been alone for decades; I'd only found solace in joining a coven of fellow vampires - albeit, full vampires, unlike me - seventeen years prior. My history was painful and I didn't like to spend time thinking about it. I was lucky to live the life I had, I was lucky to find a coven that accepted me, despite my physiological flaws, I was very very lucky. It was pointless to dwell on the hard parts.

I sat with my coffee cup until it was empty and then packed my laptop in its case, then in my canvas backpack. Tucking my bag under my arm, I slid out of the booth and tossed a few dollars on the table for the waitress. I wasn't getting any work done and I'd already had three cups of coffee; It was probably time for me to throw in the towel and go home. Maybe I'd have better luck next time.