Disclaimer: All things Twilight (including characters, etc.) are property of Stephenie Meyer.
Trapped
BELLA'S POV
I awakened in a soft, black place, completely disoriented. My eyes were blind in the total darkness, and I took a moment to try to clear my head. The disorientation wasn't exactly an unfamiliar feeling, because I'm a heavy sleeper, and I sometimes wake up not knowing where I am or how I got there. This time, however, felt different. I closed my eyes and tried to think back to the last thing I was doing before I fell asleep. My memories seemed distant and hazy, and all I could recall were vague impressions of the nightmares I'd had while I slept.
The next thing I noticed was the smell. An unusual mixture of scents assaulted my nose—I could distinctly identify the smells of cedar and satin, the musk of raw, wet earth, and traces of the sickeningly sweet essence of flowers. I hated the unique smell of cut flowers from the florist – it brought forth a flood of unwanted memories of the funeral – carnations, the neighbor's dry tuna casserole, insincere, clichéd words of consolation, lilies, red-rimmed brown eyes, empty and staring back from the mirror, the hollow feeling in my heart, chrysanthemums, melancholy notes from an old pipe organ...
I became aware of an odd cacophony of sounds emanating from every direction: faint noises of crawling, scratching, squirming, and clicking. The sickening symphony turned my stomach, and for the first time since I'd opened my sightless eyes, my stomach tightened with fear. I couldn't fathom why it was taking me so long to return to awareness and remember how I'd gotten here. I was certain that my senses of smell and hearing were heightened by my virtual blindness, and that wasn't aiding my cause to figure out where I was.
Shaking my head in a vain attempt to clear it, I decided it was time to get up. I thought that stretching out my muscles would surely help to clear the hazy fog from my head. As I sat up, my forehead made contact with the hard ceiling above me. The impact didn't hurt, but it startled me, so I lay back down quickly. Extending my arms to explore my surroundings, I began to panic.
I reached out to my sides, sliding my hands along the satiny walls of my narrow enclosure. Hesitating, I slowly felt above me, terrified of what I might find. My hands met with the satin lining there, confirming my fear. Disbelieving, I slid down, using my hands and feet to trace the planes of my three-dimensional prison. When recognition hit me, I started to scream, and even the sound of my own voice startled me. It was unfamiliar, alien.
My worst nightmare had been realized. I was lying in a box – cedar lined with satin – six feet in the damp earth, with insects and vermin burrowing all around me and the heady stench of my funeral flowers still clinging to the interior of my casket. I'd been buried alive.