Disclaimer: I do not own any work in association with Stephenie Meyer.

There was a certain object able feeling to the despondent atmosphere, beyond the exclusive reins of dank and sultry. The air worked meticulously; treading down the contours of my bodily frame. Slowly relinquishing an eerie feeling amongst the trail it wandered. As if there were two present, the company undesirable. My aversive companion seethed fear, he held an incomprehensible impression of power that poured from his very shadow. His silhouette screamed with rage and indignation.

The indistinct specter appeared to be omniscient. He knew my every thought and subtle changes in position. He held no compassion for those he held as captives. His pleasure grew from their subconscious sensitivity of panic and apprehension. His menacing glare never ceased. He watched his obsessions, craving to feed his addiction. His desire was relentless.

I watched his inhuman, merciless power grow with every breath I seized. He slowly carved his features into their minds. Their minds and my own mentality. It wasn't difficult for him to gain control, and once he achieved dominance; there was only one escape. The others; they went one by one. Escape was perfected in immeasurable procedures: a lackluster crimson blade, disengaged hunger or an unrestricted daunting needle.

I admired their audacity, the will they had. They weren't victims of dismal death. In our world they were those who conquered, those who chose to win the competition. The rest straggled behind. They were all conformists of self pity and apathy. The orthodox optimists that continuously assured themselves that they would survive, that they would recover. But they would never leave. From the moment I was shoved onto these grounds, I have seen death and deception. For eight years, I have listened to bloodcurdling scream which never fade, endlessly echoing. Death was inevitable, defeat is chosen.

I placed the tattered parchment on the ground beside myself, watching as the letters bled black ink. The lines trailed down the paper, leaving stains where they encountered my pale hands which guarded the edges of my life's narrative. I carefully bound the shattered glass from my damaged fountain pen in a shred of soiled fabric that had once belonged to the undersized clothing I currently wore.

My nails dug into silt like soils as I took an unsteady breath, pausing to inspect every corner of my dark location. Watching; waiting to know whether he knew where I had hidden. Ensuring that I was sheltered before I relocated to my next refuge. I hastened to gather my items, positioning them in the inside of my thin jacket, just behind it's defective zipper.

Using my hands, I pushed myself up onto my knees and peeked through a crack in the plywood board I had chosen to protect me; before positioning my fingers on either side and sliding it over. Inch by inch.

I could feel my heart beating in my chest, awaiting the moment he would appear. Blood pulsed through my veins as I bolted, but I didn't dare to breathe. My senses were hindered by the dark room; forcing me to rely on physical exertion and hearing. My breathing was erratic as I gasped for breath. The air burning through my dry mouth.

I hit the other brick wall before I could visibly notice causing my body to rebound, stumbling backwards as I fell and faced the dirt floor. I forced myself to remain quiet; pressing my mouth into the damp silt as I unsuccessfully ignored the throbbing pain of landing on my now twisted arm. My fall echoed off the walled compartment, sending him messages; betraying me. This was the end. He was going to find me. Find me; murder and torture me, just as he did to the others who weren't brave enough. Reaching safety would be my only chance for survival.

I pushed myself up slowly, ignoring the feeling of warm; heated liquid flowing slowly down my left hand. Blood dripped down off of my fingers, turning my left hand into a solitary world of red and black. Scarlet waters filled every sliced abrasion I had received from the fall, slowly making their journey toward the dirt floor. They proceeded to leave a trail which would lead him to my whereabouts, working against me as the traitor walls had done. I buried my bare feet into the cold; sandy surface and used my legs to push my body backwards until I hit the insolent wall once more.

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-Ctaim2