FORKS - carlisle cullen

E I G H T

Eleanor Martin's POV

"What?" I demand, realizing that this man is completely and utterly insane. "Are you kidding me right now? The next thing you're going to tell me is that dogs can talk, too!"

"Well, actually that's partially true," he smirks amusedly. "At least the ones I associate with do."

"I'm glad that you find this funny, but I'm not having so much fun with this conversation, Dr. Cullen," I complain, pinching the bridge of my nose with my fingers. "I'm beginning to wonder if you are or both of us are completely insane."

"Naturally, your first instinct will be to doubt what I tell you," he begins. "And believe me when I say that I didn't want to have to tell you like this, but you were about three seconds away from calling the police on me."

"Wouldn't be a bad idea." I mutter.

"My family and I are vampires, Eleanor." He states bluntly, and I blink a few times before a slow smile spreads across my face.

"That just answered my question," I laugh. "Not both of us are crazy. Just you. Goodbye, Carlisle."

I stand up and walk towards the door only to hear a sudden whoosh of air and see Carlisle standing in front of it. I close my eyes, trying to explain this away, but I am unable to. Nobody can move that fast. Nobody.

"I'm not lying to you," he says. "And neither of us are crazy."

"Are you-" I try to take a deep breath, but anxiety is pinching my airways closed almost all the way. "Are you going to kill me?"

"I wouldn't dream of it." He assures me, and I allow myself to slowly sink into one of the chairs, blinking in disbelief.

"Can I please leave now?" I whisper, my mouth dry and when he begins to speak, I cut him off. "I won't tell anybody, I promise. Even if I did they'd think I was out of my mind. I just want to go home."

"I would never force you to be with me, Eleanor." He says, stepping aside with a saddened expression in his eyes.

I rise to my feet, walking as quickly as I can out of the office and down the hall. I half-run through the parking lot, trying to process what I've just seen. There's no way that I made that up.

He's actually a vampire.

I almost laugh at the absurdity of a real-life vampire, but I have to do what any rational person would do in my place: Pack up and get on outta here. I mean, he knows where I live. Even though he said he didn't want to kill me, why should I trust that?

I drive madly through the streets, getting home in 10 minutes flat. Once I get inside, I call my parents and tell them that I'm headed home for a while. I obviously don't tell them the truth, just claiming that seeing them yesterday has made me feel homesick and I just want to come home. While talking to them, I get online, finding a plane ticket because I didn't want to drive all the way to Tucson.

I see from the website that the only flight to Tucson doesn't take off until 2 a.m. and I roll my eyes, purchasing it anyway. I rub my eyes, slamming my laptop closed and tossing my cellphone onto the table with a slight clatter. I hold my head in my hands for a few moments before getting around to packing most of my clothes into bags. Once I am done packing, I begin to vigorously clean the house, almost erasing all traces of my existence.

Good riddance.