Twilight 1. Prologue

Prologue

_Manhattan, New York 1988 _

Run.

It was the only instinct I had left; everything else had been stripped away from me, leaving me bare with the need to survive.

My breathing was ragged, coming out in short desperate breaths, the cold New York air frosty around me, leaving pinpricks on the skin of my face. The sound of the urgent smacks of the soles of my shoes against the concrete sidewalk kept in beat with every desperate breath I took; the impact almost musical.

The sudden stop of movement left my stomach churning and almost caused me to fall over my feet. I gripped the brick corner of a nearby building that led into an alleyway to stop me from collapsing into a heap against the dirty sidewalk. My raw and bleeding fingers gripped onto the sharp, rocky with dear life, but if was nothing compared to the desperate grip I held onto the small bundle in my coat.

I could hear her soft breathing against my chest and wrapped my coat around her tighter in a protective gesture, as if that could protect her from the cruel world I had brought her into. I snorted slightly, shaking my head slightly at my ignorance.

I stared shakily at my surroundings. I was in the rundown side of Manhattan, the lights of the skyline lighting up the distance. Some would say it was inspirational, after all it was supposedly the greatest city in the world, but for me, it just brought misery.

The world would carry on growing, developing, and they would only grow stronger.

I couldn't run any more.

I let myself slide onto the pavement, shuffling slightly so I was between the shadows of the alley way. The left side of my body brushed against the cold metal of a garbage can causing me to shrink away in disgust at smell of rot and decay. I sighed, pushing a strand of my hair away from my face. So this is what it had come to: sitting in an alleyway surrounded by garbage, clutching my four month old daughter between my coat and cold body.

I carefully moved the collar of my coat away so I could carefully peer at her. She stared back at me, her eyes large and framed with dark lashes. I gently brushed my index finger across her cheekbone, feeling my finger warm up in the action. She continued to stare at me.

I looked away, my head against the cold brick wall so I stared at the dark sky above. She didn't deserve this, this pathetic excuse of a life I had brought her into based on my own selfish needs. Luca had already suffered and would continue to do so until his life came to an end. I knew I couldn't escape and was condemned to suffer the consequences.

I stared back down at her, knowing it would be the last time I would ever see her. Her delicate soft fingers escaped the cheap knitted blanket she was entangled in and were now reaching up at me; softly patting my collarbone, wanting attention.

She almost never made a sound, but her eyes were very analytical, watching me and communicating through her eyes. I was lucky to have her, but the same couldn't be said her. I sighed softly, bringing her hand against my lips before placing a gentle kiss against the side of her palm.

I stood up slowly, not wanting to startle her, but it was more of a reason to maximise the limited amount of time I had left with her. I cradled her slowly, hesitantly looking around my surroundings. I only wrinkled my nose at what I saw, but I felt it was what I deserved.

She however, didn't deserve to be left in garbage, but I knew someone would find her here and she would be passed onto someone better. I hoped.

The cold, sharp metal edges didn't look particularly appealing, and I knew anyone could have found her. The old wooden crates on the other hand... Sheets of newspaper, damp with the feel of water, lined the wooden crates, creating some sort of comfort and warmth. I just hoped that someone would find her soon; I didn't want her to suffer anymore than she had.

I took the first couple of crates from the top of the pile, placing them on the ground before taking newspaper out and placing them in the crate that I had left exposed, creating a makeshift bed. I sighed at my poor attempts, but placed her in it regardless. I stepped back, trying to tell myself this was for the best. She didn't look liked she was particularly comfortable or happy and her large eyes filled up with water, her arms reaching upwards.

I quickly went back to her, trying to soothe her by murmuring comforting things in my native. Her whimpers almost immediately quietened down. We stayed like that for a few minutes, savouring our last minutes together. She gurgled softly, her small hand clutching a lock of my hair, as if she wanted me to stay. I bit my bottom lip, knowing it was time that I finally let go. I gently pried myself away from her, before I was staring at her from above.

Her eyes watched me carefully, hand outstretched, expecting me to come back to her like I always had, but not this time or ever. I suppose I could have left her in London, but I knew it was risky to fly back, especially since the Volturi were constantly watching me. I closed my eyes tightly, before placing a light kiss on her forehead.

"Goodbye _bambino," _I murmured softly as a tear washed down my cheek.

I didn't look down as a placed the crates on top of her, but not in the stacked pattern I had found them in. I left space in between them so she could easily be seen and heard from the right angle. I stepped back, waiting for the crying to start. I needed to know that someone would soon hear her, and in turn somehow settling the nerves I had in the bottom of my stomach.

I didn't take long. I quickly sped out of the alleyway but I barely made my way out of the darkness of the alleyway before it found me.

They say your life flashes before your eyes in the last few moments of mortality. I don't think anyone can support the hypothesis, unless you escaped the curse of life of course. It was more like a rush of impact then darkness and pain, then nothing. As if you were asleep, blissfully unaware of the world, you wouldn't know that you would never wake nor would you dream.

But those red eyes would always haunt me.

* * *

**I decided to start a prequel to Possibility, I felt as if Hazel's mother needed a proper story and I felt as if it were something I could easily spin a story into. If you haven't read Possibility it's on my profile page and I'm slowly editing it because I wrote it about more than a year ago so the writing isn't the same as it is now.**

**If you liked it, please review and let me know what you thought!**

**Just a quick warning though, I'm incredibly busy with school etc, so I'll update when I have time and it's not exactly on the top of my priorities.**


	2. Normality

Chapter 1

Milan, 1972

"VALENTINA MARTINELLI!" Mr Donati, my balding history teacher screeched for what I could only assume wasn't for the first time since I fell asleep in his dreadfully boring lecture about Napoleon Bonaparte's endless contribution to the French Revolution.

My head snapped up from the reasonably comfortable cushion of textbooks I had assembled to aid my slumber but also prevent Mr Donati from unmasking the deceit in which he thought I was carefully documenting detailed notes from his dreary monologue. I had even wedged a pen between an open textbook that peered over my makeshift cushion to support this deception. My efforts had clearly gone to waste.

My long mane of hair escaped the flimsy band I had used to secure it in a messy bun at the top of my head and flew around me as I woke startled. The class of thirty erupted into tears of laughter at this supposedly highly amusing act. I wanted to glare at them, but even I had to choke back the laughter as I saw my 5'5 history teacher's forehead covered in a film of sweat and face looking like a lobster about to reach boiling point face a mere few inches from my own. Combined with the head to toe corduroy assemble, he looked like a teddy bear. A very angry teddy bear.

I tucked a strand of my loose hair behind my ear as I gave him my very best apologetic smile. It seemed to work wonders on my father whenever he caught me sneaking home from a party during the early hours of the morning.

He glared at me and muttered something about wasteful teenage hooligans but went back to his position at the front of the classroom, face turning a shade lighter than the lobster red. I mentally made a note about never choosing a seat within a five seat radius between the front of the chalkboard.

"Seeing how Miss Martinelli chooses to spend her time sleeping instead of listening in my lessons, one of you can explain the essay to her in your own time," he announced, pointing to the essay title sprawled on the chalkboard. Damn, we had an essay. I winced as I mentally read the title, which looked more like the introduction than a statement. I glanced at Mr Donati who now had a small sly smile stitched across his face. I knew better than throw him a menacing look.

The end of lesson bell erupted with perfect timing signalling it was time to quickly gather my belongings before Mr Donati saw enough sense to properly punish me.

I raced out of the classroom in record time letting my cushion of textbooks fall out of my hands and onto the cold linoleum floor of the hallway; I made sure to wait until I was at the far side of the wall, away from anyone's way. I shoved the books into my bag in a rush, juggling my bag so I was just able to close the zipper.

"Looks like someone's having too many late nights," a smug deep voice said suddenly next to me. I didn't have to look up to know it was, Amadeo Di Mercurio.

I stared straight ahead, biting my lower lip, feeling a blush rise to my cheeks, pondering where this was going to go.

Everything about Amadeo screamed money. From face, voice, body, clothes, hell even _name. _Well, his name meant God, but the connotations are what counts.

"And whose fault would that be...?" I said innocently, looking up, letting a flirtatious smile dance across my face, feeling a dimple appear on my left cheek. I started to walk away from the spot, only to find him walking at a steady pace next to me.

A small smirk grew on his model worthy face and I grew satisfied at my minuscule accomplishment though it felt like it was worthy of a medal. Amadeo wasn't known for his string of hook-ups, he was very selective and the fact that he had chosen to single me out of the few hundred females at the school made me very happy; especially since he was the only guy I had ever truly had romantic feelings for.

"I'll help you with the Bonaparte essay if you want," he said casually. I held back a snort of derision, expecting him to have been in a similar vegetable state to mine during Mr Donati's class.

"You were paying attention?" I asked, trying to hide my surprise and failing miserably. I winced as soon as the words came out of my mouth. Amadeo glanced at me through the corner of his eye, looking smug. I silently breathed a sigh of relief, glad I hadn't offended him.

"Money doesn't come with good looks, regardless of what one may think," he said, chuckling slightly. I smiled slightly, but didn't laugh.

"Yeah, alright," I said nodding; it would beat the usual parties.

"I'll see you later then," he said smiling once we reached outside.

It was sunny, just warm enough to have a noticeable presence on my skin but not enough to leave me without a coat.

"See you," I mumbled, spending a few seconds too many watching his figure retreating to the shade under a large oak tree where his friends were.

I quickly turned the opposite direction, walking to the picnic table where my friends chose to reside. I was met by friendly greetings as I slid in next to my best friend, Leonardo Drago. He instinctively put his arm around me shoulders, letting me lay my head against his broad shoulder.

"You broke the news to your parents yet?" I murmured, loud enough for his ears only. I felt him stiffen around me and I immediately felt bad for bringing up the subject.

Leo was brought up in a strict catholic family, abiding by all rules, with no exception. They wouldn't take lightly to news that their middle son was homosexual. Religion aside, the idea wasn't even fully accepted by society. Personally I thought any objection was ridiculous. Love is love, regardless of gender. But I didn't think people would think the same, especially since racism was still understandable.

"Not yet," he mumbled sighing. I shot him a sympathetic smile, looking upwards. Anyone passing by would think we were in a relationship, I wouldn't mind being mistaken for his girlfriend. I'd met his parents; it wasn't something I'd want to experience again.

"Has anyone seen my notebook?" said a very stressed out Teresa, her blond curls spilling out of the grey hat that covered her ears.

"The red one?" Gabriela asked. Teresa nodded, fixing her hat straight, looking hopeful.

"I remember you had it during lunch... if that helps...?" Gabriela started. Teresa swore violently before collapsing onto her boyfriend Rico, who began rocking her to and fro in attempt to sooth her.

"I drafted out the last of my university statements in there, I've got deadlines to meet!" she wailed as Rico did his best to calm her down, murmuring reassuring things in her ear.

"Please don't start on university applications," pleaded Roseta. I could only grumble in agreement.

I had applied for an acting course in Florence. It was the only thing I had applied for. I had no professional experience, though my grades were decent, they were nowhere near the grades they had coming in. I knew I didn't really have much of a chance, but acting was the only thing I ever imagined doing with my life.

If I didn't get in. Well, I hadn't really considered the consequences.

* * *

"Did you get all of that?" Amadeo asked as I scribbled down the last of his spoken words.

"Yes, thank you," I said, breathing out a sigh of relief as I dropped the pen onto the table, caressing my aching hand.

"Anytime," he said smirking, I thought back a blush. "Are you ready to leave?" I nodded, finishing the last of my coffee, picking up my books and putting them in my bag before putting on my coat. He held open the door as we walked out into the now cold air; I missed the warmth of the small coffee shop already.

We made small talk as he walked me back home, walking close enough that our arms brushed together. It wasn't soon before we reached the front of my house.

"I'll see you tomorrow then," he said, with a hint of awkwardness. It brought a smile to my face, seeing the normal composure slowly crumble.

"See you tomorrow," I replied, still smiling as I turned my back on him and walked towards the front of the house. I could distantly hear him sighing which only made me blush harder.

"Valentina, where have you been?" my mother called from the kitchen as I stepped over the threshold, closing the door firmly behind me.

"I was catching up with some school work," I said as I entered the warm kitchen to see my mother hovering over numerous saucepans. She nodded briskly, tendrils of hair escaping the braid at the nape of her neck.

"Want any help with that?" I asked, leaning against the frame of the door.

"With your previous culinary experience, I think not," she said snorting in derision. I smiled at her honesty, secretly glad that I didn't have to help. "I'll call you when dinner is done," she said, dismissing me.

I nodded in reply and made my way to the stairs, only to stop at the crumpled pieces of paper at the foot of the steps. Curious, I bent down to smooth them down the best I could.

"_Mama_," I called out. "Where's _papa_?"

"Work where else," she replied irritably. I noticed a hint of anger in her voice but I swept it off as her usual attitude with me and my questions.

I read over the letter once more, shrugging, before crumpling it back into a small ball and leaving it back where I found out and tried to forget that it ever existed.

* * *

**It's certainly been a while since an update, I apologise if I've kept anyone waiting. I don't know when or if I'll be updating again, but I will whenever I have time. ****I've got a pretty clear idea of where the strory's going, I just need some spare time. **

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter, please review with your thoughts, I'd love to hear what people think!  
**


	3. Unravel

Chapter 3

I woke to the sound of arguing.

I thought nothing of it. It was far too early in the morning to take note of anything regardless if I could hear the sound of crockery crashing in the distance. Nevertheless, it was enough of a racket to completely wake up, waving goodbye to all possibility of returning to my dreamless slumber.

I lay awake, staying still possible, trying not to make any noise in the process. I frowned as I tried to decipher the exact words of the screaming over the sound of smashing. I could feel the crease between my eyebrows deepen as I made sense of the words and the long list of cursing.

After the sound of the front door slamming violently shut and the last plate crashing against the door, I lay there for what felt hours afterwards, though I doubted it was more than a few minutes.

I tried to slow my heartbeat down, counting to ten as I did so. I wanted to say it helped, but my heart was still racing when my bedroom door slammed open.

"Get up you lazy girl, you'll be late for school," my mother spat, leaving the door wide open before I could reply.

I sighed in annoyance at her impatience. She had left quickly but it was enough time for me to see the large purple bruise forming on her right cheek. I shuddered as I realised it was in the distinct shape of a hand. I froze once I realised what it meant.

I had never got dressed so quickly in all my life. It amazed me at how much time I could save if I didn't spend more than a minute gazing at my own vanity. When I was done, I found myself fumbling for something to do, just delaying the inevitable confrontation. Sighing, I picked up my school bag and trudged down the stairs, startled at the pieces of crockery lying across the floor.

I hesitantly placed my bag at the foot of the stairs, remembering the crumpled piece of paper that was in its place yesterday evening. I fought back a shudder remembering the words typed in a clear black script. I walked carefully into the kitchen, never taking so much care in my entire life.

The door would have been closed other than the slight crack in which the words of my mother seeped through along with the early morning sun. I frowned again before soon realising that she was speaking on the phone. She spoke in a tone that she normally reserved for me when she had caught me arriving home in the early hours of the morning, but in a hushed whisper instead of the loud screaming. I liked to think I was the only person worthy of such a performance.

_"Listen here you bastard," _I fought back a chuckle, imagining the exact menacing facial expression my mother wore on her face, instantly feeling a wave of sympathy for the person on the other end of the line. _"You come back here and sort out this monstrosity you have caused out. I don't care how and I don't care whether you sell your left kidney, but you come back and you sort this mess out now."_

From what I heard, the rest of the conversation left my mother with the exact same response as the first causing me to think she was intent on the idea of the culprit sorting whatever mess they had created. I did not want to be in their shoes, and I spoke with previous experience.

The conversation eventually died down from hushed whispers to the clattering of cutlery, I took this as my chance to make an appearance.

I carefully opened the door, not quite silent but not loud enough so she would have to return to her previous tone. I wanted her to know I was here for her. I hesitantly made my way to the kitchen table where a rack of toasted bread stood with half of lump of butter with a butter knife wedged in; it looked like it had been wedged in a bit too forcefully. I gulped as I stood behind my chair.

My mother stood over the sink, elbows deep in bubbly soapy water, furiously scrubbing at yesterdays pasta bake.

"You're late for breakfast," my mother said, her back still back to me before I could say anything. Her voice was cold and hoarse, as if she had used up all her emotion and energy despite it only being 8 am.

"Are you okay?" I asked anxiously, not sure of what to expect as an answer.

"Hurry up and finish that, I have to attend some business," she replied briskly, still scrubbing at the same container despite it being clear of all signs of pasta.

"Where are you going?" I asked uncertainly, taking a bite out of the bread, stomach in knots.

"That's none of your concern," she said sharply, directly answering me for the first time. I flinched at her cold tone. "I'll be done by the time you come back home, now off you go," she said dismissing me, still not looking back.

I stopped on my way out at the leaning against the frame of the kitchen door to stare at her small frame furiously scrubbing away. I sighed; knowing that nothing I ever did to lighten the atmosphere ever worked with my mother, before picking up my bag at the foot of the stairs and leaving the house, letting the door slam loud enough for her to hear.

Our relationship was never as strained as what I had just experienced. But my mother always put some sort of strain on everything she could, but at the same time, I loved her for it. I brushed off what had just happened as her waking up on the wrong side of the bed or something of that equivalence. The bruise on the side of her face however, was something I couldn't explain without submerging myself into a whole different scenario I didn't want to experience.

As I stepped out of the house, I saw my father sat in the driver's seat of the car he drove to work. He worked for a bank in the city; the company gave him the car so he didn't have to take the train into the city every day. He sat stonily, not quite glaring through the windshield.

I shuddered picturing the bruise on mothers face. The sound of the morning's arguing filled my ears and I quickly made my way to school, glad that my father didn't notice me, saving me some awkward questioning. I didn't want for a moment to believe my father was the reason behind such awful things, but after this morning's turn of events, it was the only conclusion I could draw, I just wanted to live in denial for a while.

* * *

The day passed without a hitch, I didn't even fall asleep in any of my classes. It was only when I reached the outside of my house when everything started to crumble around me. It was as if I had been holding my breath since I had left the house that morning and as the police officer broke the news to me at the gate, I let out the breath that left me collapsing.

They were gone. Dead. Car crash. Immediate death. No pain.

The house was gone. They had gone to settle this massive debt my father owed to the bank he worked for. Fraud was written all over it, as well as numerous law breeches. The bank took the house to resolve it.

They let me in the house one last time so I could collect my belongings. My things fitted easily into a small suitcase I used to visit my Grandmother in Florence every Christmas before she died. The wheels creaked with every drag.

The post stuck out awkwardly in the letterbox behind the open door. I reached for it, wanting to leave it at the table by the stairs where our letters would be. I hoped to obtain a small amount of normality despite the circumstances.

I frowned when I saw my name printed in an elegant script across the front of the heavy cream envelope. I quickly tore open the thick paper with my shaking hands. It was from the performing arts university in Florence. I had received a place.

I would have let out a triumphant cheer if the time had been appropriate. Then it dawned on me that I would not be able to go. I had no money and I had no way in hell of getting a loan from the bank with my father's history.

Everything was gone within a matter of hours.

* * *

**The story should start to get a bit more interesting and members from the Volturi are going to be making appearances.**

**Please review and let me know what you thought!**


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