A/N: Ok, so this is another story I'm posting right now, and I hope you guys enjoy it; seriously. It took me a good few days to make it of a publishable standard; this is seriously nothing like it started out as. It's just a prologue for one of the many plot bunny's ideas (it better be happy!) that's been buzzing around in my head for a while now.

I'm hoping to write a Paul story soon as well, one that's been in my head for longer than this, but I'm going to wait until I'm into the flow of writing this.

The metallic screeching of what was unmistakably the sharp scratching of razor-like nails on a chalk board roused me from my state of deep slumber. Involuntarily, my eyes fluttered open only to glare at the source of the maximal pain that had - obviously - the intention to make me writhe in death throes, straight at the goon's feet whilst she stood victoriously at my head, smirking ruthlessly as her prisoner (me) inched deliberately toward the darkest fate one could face. Death.

Ok, that was slightly exaggerating. I don't think the last part was though. Seriously, that major freak-oid does want me to writhe in pain at her feet. Ha, in her wildest dreams. I'm just too loved, too loved by the freaks that created the mini-freak. And cue the evil laughter.

On a more serious note, maybe I should be scared. After all, the stories I heard about her were true.

How she'd torture victims with nothing but a trail of thought in her contorted mind, how they'd lay a bunch of bundled limbs at her feet, begging for mercy, for death, the probably only rational thought racing through what's left of their sanity as their tormented mind screeched and squealed with every new brand of pain. She'd stay staring down her nose, as if a bad smell was distinctly beginning to overcome her senses, and then she'd land the final kick, the final kick they'd been hoping for since the everlasting torture began, straight into oblivion. And then her blood red eyes, crimson and full to the brim with nothing but repugnance, like venom, would fade and agonisingly slowly unveil an emotion that only the darkest of sadists could feel: euphoria. And the name of this creature?

It's Jane. Jane Volturi.

A/N: So... umm... did you enjoy it? I hope you did and don't worry, Jane isn't a central character in this story, neither is Jacob; I just chose him as the selected character because he an Alpha which will come later into play.

And for all you faithful readers of 'The White Wolf', I hope you'll excuse me for not updating, but I am putting a new chapter-thingy up within a week of this. Also, my story 'Oh, God' adopted from SilentTalker2000 will be put on hiatus until a plot bunny decides to invade my imagination.

Please review! I'm not going to say I want five or I won't update. Just one will make me happy. Please?

~Cassidie Dream