My Choice (part of the 1st chap)

The Story's Name: My Choice( just pick this title so it could have a name)
Type of story: An vamp/witch fiction story... and horror, adventure and romance. Girl has to go against all the odds and follow her heart or do what is "right"
Age Rating: pg-13 with maybe and dash of R in it.
Ch1 My Past: The “Perfect Childhood”
*Plz comment so i can write more*

It will not take long to kill her. I know what you are thinking “What is wrong with her?” Or “What did she do to you?” The answer to the first question is yes there is something wrong with me. But we will get more into that later. The next question was “What she did to me?” Well that one is easier to answer than the first question. The answer is very simple. She killed me.

You know those dreams you have that your worst fear seems to have come to life. Well with me my dream is very simple. I am running and its dark and the only thing I see is the image of person running after me. Now I am not one of those little girls who scream when they see a bug and want some male figure to “get rid of it” however for some reason every time I have this dream I am running away from the person. Then a wall appears. I think it is a brick wall but details fade only one thing comes to my mind about this dream is that I die. As I run into a ruby brick wall. I turn around to try and find another way around it but two more other walls form. They are others my left and right side of me. Almost like an alley. So then I pound the walls hoping they will disappear just as they appeared. Behind me I hear a deep growl. As I turned around I feel my heart drop into my stomach. Then as soon as I fully face my attacker it becomes dark. And cold And my heart stop and then I am dead. Just like that. My life was over and I didn't’t even know how or why. Or even whom. All I know is that dream has been one that I been dreading since I was 15. And now at 21 the dream still brings fear to my eyes.

I guess that’s when this all started. I never really had a “perfect” childhood. My grandmother said my mom died while I was still a baby. When I ever use to ask about (dad) him she just said I shouldn't’t dwell on the past. So I stop asking at 5 and never thought anything about it. I use to have a sister but I get the same answer about is she as my dad’s whereabouts. I had my twin brother to keep me in trouble. He is like my other half. Now I know I should say that about my mate but, Levite was in my heart first. We always wondered why we were called twins when we hardly looked alike. He had short dirty blond hair that framed his face and had bangs that went over his eyes sometimes. He had a young face and also had always looked like he had light tan. His thin mouth always had a little smile playing on his lips. We both had athletic bodies. We never have the “fat” checks babies had or the squishy body. One word that describes me is serious. My hair even though is straight like my brother’s but mine doesn't’t look like I out volume mouse in it. I have ebony shinny hair that even straight when soaking wet. It was the same length as my brother’s but now it is shoulder length. My bright emerald cat eyes helped formed my ivory face. Light brown freckles were dashed on my nose but could only be seen in the hot sun. My grandmother said we look like our parents. My brother and I had a different relationship than most twins or siblings. I use to think it was normal but now that I look back I think differently. We always kind of knew what each other was thinking or feeling. At first it was little bursts of things. Like if I wanted an apple he would always get one from our tree in my grandmother’s yard without talking about it. Then it got to if he had gotten cut with a knife which happened often. I would have the scar on my hand too. Sometimes both of them will go away at the same time but usually mine before his. I always asked my grandmother (Maria) but she would say we were close and it normal for twins to be like that. I would share everything with him. From nasty bugs to kissing boys to bras. Sometimes he looked like he didn't’t want to hear it but he never stopped me or never listened. We had the sort of I-talk-you listen relationship. That was really the only time I would talk and talk. When we were younger he was the one who introduce us. “Hi, I am Levite and this is my sister Ivy.”