LYDIA HUMMED ALONG to her music as she did her homework. She'd spent the better part of an hour googling photographs and descriptions of soldiers' uniforms from both sides of the Civil War, her eyes growing heavy as she continued bookmarking promising websites and saving good photographs to her flash drive. She took a sip from her water bottle, glancing at her alarm clock. 12:47. It was a good thing it was Friday—technically Saturday—so she didn't have to wake up for school in the morning.
She was scrolling through the images brought up by her latest search of Union major uniforms when she saw it. Honestly, she nearly missed it because she was just mindlessly scrolling at that point, but she'd stopped for a second to examine a hangnail on her thumb.
When she looked back up at her computer screen, her eyes landed on one of the many images. She furrowed her brow, recognizing the wavy hair of the man in the photo. She clicked on the photo, enlarging it so she could get a better look. Her eyes widened as she took in the soldier's features. The photo wasn't in color, of course, but the features themselves were identical.
"What the hell?" she asked herself quietly, wondering if her tired brain was making her hallucinate.
Either Lydia was seeing things, or the Union soldier in the picture was Jasper Hale.
She immediately doubled back, the logical part of her brain catching up to her wild imagination. It's probably a relative or something, she told herself, still staring at the picture. Though she knew that was the most logical explanation—and the only possible one, unless Jasper Hale was somehow over a hundred years old with the face of an eighteen-year-old—she couldn't help but be shocked at how similar they looked. Was it possible for a great-great-grandson to look so much like their great-great-grandfather?
Lydia clicked on the link the photo came from, finding herself on a website dedicated to the Union soldiers of the south. It was clearly a small website, and judging by some of the dates and fonts, it hadn't been updated in years. She scrolled down for a few seconds before spotting the photograph. Major Jasper Whitlock read the name underneath the picture. Born in Houston, Texas, in 1844, Major Whitlock was one of the few thousand Texan soldiers who fought for Union army during the American Civil War. He joined the army at a young age and quickly rose through the ranks, earning the title of Major only two years after enlisting. In 1863, Major Whitlock went missing while evacuating women and children near Galveston. He was presumed dead in 1864.
Lydia printed out the picture, folding it and putting it in her backpack. She bookmarked the source of the photograph and made sure everything on her laptop was saved before shutting it down, all with thoughts of Jasper Hale lurking in the back of her mind.
Laying down in bed, Lydia fell asleep to the image of her strange, beautiful classmate dressed as a Union soldier, a small part of her not entirely convinced it wasn't real.
✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧
Lydia had known from the beginning just how strange the Cullens were. She had accepted it, even. But finding that picture of a Union soldier who looked insanely identical to Jasper Hale made her incredibly suspicious.
Every logical part of her kept saying that immortality wasn't real, that the only explanation was that Jasper's ancestor fought in the Civil War, and Jasper just happened to look almost identical to him—but there was still some part of her that couldn't accept that. Not completely.
She didn't tell anyone about her discovery, not even Gwen. She was afraid she was just making up the similarities, that anyone else wouldn't see the connection. She was afraid of looking like she was going crazy.
Still, in the classes she shared with them, she watched the Cullens. She watched Edward in her pre-cal class, studied his mannerisms and how he spoke when called on. He seemed to notice her sudden interest, if the glances he sent her way were any indication.
In AP History, she was a bit subtler. She didn't mention the photograph in her bag, instead just talking about the different types of uniforms she'd found while researching when Alice asked her how her project was going. If Alice suspected anything, she kept quiet about it.
When AP Literature came around, Lydia decided to take a chance, leaning toward Bella. "Hey, uh, can I show you something?" She hesitated before adding, "It's about the Cullens."
Bella nodded, the intrigue in her eyes visible. There were still a few minutes until class would start, so Lydia quickly took out the photograph she'd printed yesterday. She figured if anyone would understand Lydia's suspicions, Bella would. She was the only other person at Forks who'd really interacted with the strange family, according to Gwen.
"I found this when I was doing research for a history project," Lydia prefaced, unfolding the photo and handing it to Bella. In a whisper, she asked, "Am I crazy or is that Jasper Hale?"
Bella's mouth fell open a little as she stared at the picture. "That looks just like him," she said. "It's uncanny." When she handed the picture back, she glanced toward the front of the room, seeing the teacher still writing quietly at his desk. She leaned closer to Lydia in a conspiratory manner. "I was talking to a friend of mine down at the reservation. He told me this legend about his ancestors and these creatures called the Cold Ones. Then he said that apparently the Cullens had been to Forks before, but a long time ago. It's really weird."
"Yeah," Lydia said quietly. She sat back in her seat. "Definitely weird."
On the bright side, she thought, if I really am crazy, I'm not the only one.
✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧
The next day, none of the Cullens showed up to school. It was sunny outside, the temperature the warmest it had been since Lydia moved to Forks. As much as Lydia enjoyed the rare nice weather, her thoughts were troubled the whole day. Gwen had said that the Cullens usually skipped on sunny days so their parents could take them hiking, but Lydia wasn't sure how much she believed that.
Between the picture of Jasper from the Civil War, Bella's revelation about the Cullens possibly having lived in Forks a long time ago, their eyes that gradually changed from gold to black, and the fact that they were all strangely beautiful and had unnatural golden eyes, Lydia had to convince herself that she wasn't dreaming up some fantasy world while laying in a coma somewhere.
After school, she told Tracy that she was going to drive to Port Angeles. Bella had told her about a bookstore that might have some information on what the Cullens were, so Lydia wanted to check it out. Bella would be going tomorrow, while she went prom dress shopping with some of her friends, but Lydia didn't have the patience to wait. She needed to figure out the mystery that was the Cullen family.
She took Tracy's car, since Johanna was already on the way home and Tracy didn't need it. Lydia had never been the best driver—she got nervous easily and her road-rage was a bit out of control at times, but she'd passed her driving test, so that had to count for something. The GPS was set up on her phone, guiding her to the bookstore an hour and a half away.
She got there in one piece, thankfully. She had to park on the street a few yards away from the bookstore, which made her feel a bit uneasy, given that the sun was already beginning to set in the sky. She got out, gripping her purse and phone tightly as she locked the car. It would be dark soon, and the temperature had dropped since that afternoon. She felt a familiar fear creep up as she walked quickly into the bookstore, not wanting to linger on the mostly empty street by herself.
The bell above the door dinged, alerting the owner to her presence. The man didn't return the polite smile Lydia gave him, but he didn't look outright mean, either. Lydia began browsing the shelves, trying to find anything on the Cold Ones or any other books about Quileute legends. She found two, and quickly took them to the owner to ring up. She thanked him as she walked out of the store, wanting to hurry back to her car as quickly as possible.
Lydia stuffed her bag into her purse as she walked. It was just her luck that there was a group of boys hanging around outside of the building next to the bookstore—a restaurant, by the looks of it. Lydia ignored them, praying they would do the same, but her hope was all for naught.
"Hey, gorgeous!" one of them called, clearly aimed at her, seeing as she was the only other person out walking. His words sounded slurred, and Lydia spotted what looked like a bottle of liquor in one of the boy's hands.
Lydia didn't react, picking up her pace to her car. Whatever omnipotent being controlled the universe must not have been her biggest fan that night, because she soon heard footsteps following her to her car.
A hand grabbed her arm, rough and unrelenting. Lydia gasped, trying to wrench herself away from him. She fell into another boy as the first let go. A sick feeling of déjà vu hit her, making her feel dizzy. She tried to step away from the second boy, but his grip was fierce on her waist.
"Let go of me!" she snapped, praying they wouldn't hear the tremor in her voice. "Get the hell off of me!"
None of them listened.
They never did.
There were four boys, each of them smelling like alcohol and cigarettes. They looked only a little bit older than her, maybe college-age. They were clearly drunk, but not so drunk that she could fight them off by herself. Lydia could feel tears welling up in her eyes as the dread set in, casting a blanket over her mind.
She tried once again to free herself, stepping awkwardly as she tried to escape. Her ankle twisted, causing her to release a cry of pain. The hands on her arms kept her upright, even as her ankle throbbed. "Let go of me!" she said again, this time her voice on the verge of begging.
The sound of screeching tires accompanied Lydia's plea, causing the boys and herself to look up as a black Mercedes turned sharply onto the near-abandoned street they were on. The car screeched to a halt as the driver's side door was flung open, revealing Lydia's blonde-haired savior.
"Get the hell away from her!" Rosalie snapped at the group of boys, the venom in her voice deadly.
"Jealous, baby doll?" one of the boys had the nerve to leer. "Don't worry, you can join in on the fun if you want."
The glare Rosalie leveled at him looked cold enough to turn them all to stone. The passenger side door opened, revealing Alice, a look of worry on her face.
Rosalie and Alice advanced on the group of boys. Lydia tried to shout out a warning, not wanting them to get hurt trying to save her. It was three against four, and Lydia wasn't much of a fighter, even when she wasn't injured. Rosalie grabbed the upper arm of the guy holding Lydia's arms. Lydia swore she heard bones crack as the guy's hands released her, allowing her to stumble into Alice's arms.
"My ankle," Lydia gasped, alerting the brunette to the pain radiating from her leg.
The group of boys scattered, clearly terrified of the blonde girl who'd crushed their friend's bones with her bare hand. She approached them, seemingly having heard what Lydia had said. "We can take you to our father. He's a doctor, he can take a look at it at our house."
"What—what about my car?" Lydia asked, still dazed from the attack.
"I'll take care of it," Alice said, helping Lydia into the passenger's side of their car.
Lydia handed her the keys to Tracy's car. "I—thank you," she said softly, still mildly in shock.
The smile Alice gave her was warm, comforting. "Of course, Lydia." She closed the passenger's side door as Rosalie got into the driver's side.
As Rosalie drove away from the scene, the adrenaline that had flooded Lydia's body quickly faded away, leaving her only with the horrible fear that made her breathing stutter. Her heart thumped painfully in her chest, her mind replaying the night of her rape over and over again. Though a part of her felt embarrassed at the idea of breaking down in the car of a girl she barely knew, she knew there was no stopping the tears welling up in her eyes.
As soon as the first tear fell, the rest came like water breaking through a dam.
"Breathe, Lydia." Rosalie's voice was gentle but firm. "I'm right here. You're safe."
Would she ever safe?
Lydia didn't notice Rosalie pulling into a diner parking lot until she felt the car stop, the engine purring softly as they sat parked in the well-lit lot.
"Let it out," Rosalie murmured. "You're safe here."
A quiet sob escaped Lydia's mouth. "I was so scared," she cried, squeezing her eyes shut as the images from just a few minutes ago mingled with the memories of her rape to create a horrible scene in her mind.
"I know," Rosalie said. "But you're safe now."
"I'll never be safe," Lydia gasped, trying to catch her breath as she broke down. "Not after what they did to me. "
"Hey." Rosalie's voice was soft as she reached for Lydia's hand, moving slowly so as to give the scared girl a chance to pull away if she needed to. When she didn't, Rosalie took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I'm right here. I won't let anything happen to you."
The sincerity in Rosalie's eyes urged Lydia to trust her. She nodded slowly, trying to take in a deep breath to calm herself down. Rosalie sat with her until Lydia's breathing was back to normal, until her heart quit pounding in her chest. As the fear dissipated, she wiped her face with her coat sleeve. "Thank you," she said quietly.
"Of course, Lydia," Rosalie murmured, squeezing Lydia's hand one last time before putting the car back into drive and pulling out of the parking lot.
✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧
[author's note: i mentioned this at the beginning of this book but just to clarify: i decided to make jasper a union soldier instead of a confederate soldier b/c i feel like what side he was on did nothing except make him seem racist/prejudiced as a human, and we're not about that shit. there were union units made up of texans during the civil war and honestly i like the idea of him being a union soldier in the confederate south a lot better. anyway, hope you enjoyed the chapter! <3]