AN-This is a Twilight story, but Bella is going to be different. She was born Friday July 10th 1813. I will be changing from different times occasionally.

BPOV

Tuesday August 23rd 1831.

The soldiers came into our house at about 3 o'clock. "We have the right to burn any of you if we find prof that you are witches or warlocks."

"I am not a witch" I told them truthfully. "If you allow us to search your home perhaps you can prove that" the same soldier said.

After the soldiers left I watched them enter another house.

Wednesday August 24th 1831

The soldiers were back. "We got a tip from another neighbor that Miss Isabella Swan was a witch." The same soldier announced.

"Please. I am not a witch" I begged tears streaming down my face. I knew that the penalty for being a witch or warlock was burning at the stake. "Sorry miss" the soldier said dragging me out of my house.

Friday August 26th 1831

The sentence was going to be carried out tomorrow. I was sitting in my cell sobbing when I heard a voice. "Hello?" I asked searching around my cell. "Shhh, I am going to get you out of here. Pretend I am not here." A man appeared in front of my cell. I kept on my sobbing, as he ripped the lock off. I was quite surprised, but I kept sobbing.

He pulled me up, and we ran out of the cell, and down the street.
Unfortunately a guard had heard us, and he was chasing us.

We kept running, until I tripped, and twisted my ankle. He stopped for me, but I yelled "keep going; you'll be lucky if you escape, and I'll just slow you down."

The man seemed very reluctant to leave me there, but after more of me yelling at him he ran away.

The soldier found me lying on the ground, and quite pleased with himself he began to whip every inch of me until he was sure I was going no where.

Then he left to get more guards to carry me away.

The second the guard left the man was gone. He picked me up, and began running-well more of like flying away.

No wonder he was arrested for witchcraft. Maybe he was a warlock.

Finally we reached what looked like his home, and I got a good look at his face.

I recognized him as Cullen. He lay me down on what felt like a table, and began to examin me.

I hoped he would make all of the pain away.

At first I thought he had lit me on fire because it felt like it. Then the firey feeling spread up to my face, and I could still see his face-a pained look on it.

I began to feel sorry for him, and stopped my screaming.
I got one last look at him as I slipped into unconsciousness.

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