A/N: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer.

Treat this more as a prologue than a chapter ^^.

JPOV

Becoming a prisoner overnight was such a strange thing to come to terms with. Usually, it was so easy for me to separate myself from the world; I could manage days at a time indoors when I wanted to, but when your containment is forced upon you, it's a different thing altogether. Sure, I could still make the trip to the bathroom to wash the taste of his cock out my mouth, and peek at the street through the gaps in the blinds and I could almost make myself at home in these foreign walls. The silence tasted like disconnection. My skin felt strange on my body, because I knew nothing I owned really belonged to me anymore. It belonged to him.

I'd woken up twice that morning. The first time was when he'd rolled me onto my back and pulled my chin up to his face. Without a word of warning, he'd thrust his tongue between my teeth, slipping it under mine and around the walls of my mouth. His lips moved on mine. His hand found the small of my back and lifted me towards his giant, bearlike form, bent over my twisted body. His other hand was on the headboard.
Just as I was beginning to recover from the shock and a chance for me to react arose (although I doubt I would've taken it), he lowered me back onto the bed and smiled a dark, crooked smile.

"Good morning," he said. His voice was deep, but he kept it soft. I could still feel his presence deep under my skin and his arms locked around me.

I mumbled something pathetic, not even a word. I was too terrified to speak because it was so recently that he'd told me, if I made a sound, or if I called for help, he'd kill me before anything could be done. I don't think I will ever forget. He'd swivelled round to me when I was screaming in the back seat, taking his hands off the steering wheel and grabbing me by my hair. Insanity had entered into his eyes and dominated his face. He was a demon and I was helpless as a rag doll, torn by his torture. The flame that he'd burnt me with was diminished as he stood above me, but I could still feel it. It seared through me when we came into contact.

"I'm going to school," he announced. "You're going to stay here for me, okay Jasper?" Somehow he managed to speak my name with both venom and relish. I didn't move. I didn't want to look at him again. Regardless, he didn't need my consent. "And…" he began, but paused. His face came closer to mine, and his voice grew softer, "you're not going to call anyone, are you?"

Silence settled down into his room, sinking into the sheets. It devoured the yawning distance between us, and removed any evidence of life that existed on the other side of his veiled window, or elsewhere in the house. I could taste the tension in my dry mouth, dancing on my paper tongue. He exhaled and pushed his face into my neck, breathing in my scent as something that vaguely resembled freedom grew closer and closer. I did my best not to recoil, to flinch, but it wasn't long before he pulled away, grabbed his bag off the floor and exited the room. I heard his feet on the stairs. A door slamming. A bunch of keys singing as the blocks of metal hit one another. I waited.

Silence.

I rolled over, my body making a thud as I hit the new, firmer surface. I felt cold – dirty – lying in the bed that he'd claimed me in, so I sprawled myself out across his bedroom floor, my eyes on the tiny gap between the wide, solid door and the carpet. The smell of wool was familiar, somewhat comforting. I dug my shaking fingers into the fabric as the colours of the sideways room in front me merged, and I fell back into a light, dreamless sleep.

EPOV

The first time I saw him, I wanted him, and I swear it feels like yesterday.

It was just after US History. I was depositing the unwanted contents of my bag into my locker when I overheard a couple of the girls from my class talking about him.

"Apparently he just moved up here from Texas," said Jessica, clutching a ring binder. "And I heard he has a sister. She's a freshman." The girl was all smiles and braces.

"Mhmm," Lauren mumbled in reply, raising her eyebrows and nodding, although she seemed more interested in the condition of her nail beds than anything else. Jessica was too wrapped up in her own excitement to notice or care that Lauren, quite frankly, didn't give a shit.

All of a sudden, she emitted a high-pitched squeal. "Look, Lauren!" she said. "Look! He's coming!"

Even though she wasn't talking to me, I couldn't help but turn too, my eyes narrowing when I spotted him approaching from the other end of the hall. He looked small, like a woodland creature out of its habitat and he had these huge, bright eyes that were filled with fear, and although he tried to keep them away from us I knew that he'd caught us staring. Curiosity pulled his head up. Our eyes met. Something in my core shifted, and I'm not sure, but I reckon it was something to do with that emptiness that was born when my enviable ability to be so easily fulfilled as a child was washed away. It was such a strange feeling for that pit to be torn out so suddenly and replaced by this sudden hunger, this sudden electricity. He was something jagged in my veins; a foreign body invading my system. I was the first to look away.

Jessica, unable to contain her embarrassed giggles, grabbed Lauren by her arm and pulled her away to their next lesson. The new kid and I were left alone.

I slammed my locker shut, and when I turned around he was walking up to me.

"Hey," he said. "D'you know where Trig is?"

I picked up on his Southern accent, his crooked teeth and the way his clothes were too big for him. He was fucking beautiful, and I felt myself getting hard just looking at him. Shit.

I coughed, as if it would make my boner disappear. "With Mr. Varner?" I asked, trying my best to sound nonchalant, although to be quite honest, I don't think I was very convincing.

A smile of relief came across his face. "Are you in my class?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Come on," I said. "I'll show you the way."

"Thanks," he said. "Oh. By the way, my name's Jasper."

He held out a hand awkwardly, and although it wasn't customary to shake with someone my age, I wasn't about to pass up the chance to just, touch him. I gripped his small hand in mine and shook it once, looking into those big brown eyes of his.

"Emmett," I said, in response.

When we pulled away from each other, I took him to the Math building, where he was assigned a seat on the other side of the classroom from me.

We never spoke after that, but the hunger in me remained. I stole glances at him in the locker room when we were changing, and, if it were not for the other twenty-eight boys in the room I think I would've just fucked him there and then every day. In the beginning, I scanned the cafeteria for his blonde hair and his big, nervous eyes, but I could never find him. Eventually I just gave up looking, but that was by no means the end.

I started following him home. The first time, it was merely out of curiosity, but I'd underestimated how exhilarating it would be, so I did it the next day, and the next day, and the next. It wasn't long until I started waiting outside his house in my dark Jeep, enthralled by what would happen next, if anything, for example, who else lived there, if he went out, and where.

I was growing obsessed with Jasper Hale. I wanted him. I wanted him to want me.

I usually left at around four, but one time, I was lucky enough to fall asleep in my car and wake up to him leaving through the front gate. His schoolbag was slung over his shoulder. The clock on my dashboard read 9PM; my curiosity was on fire again.

The next day I came back at the same time, and once again I followed him to the library, where I waited outside for two hours and followed him back home. It became routine; an obsession. It wasn't enough to just masturbate over him anymore. It wasn't the same as that time, that day a million years ago when we first met. I'd been blessed with his skin on mine when I was aching for him.

He wants me, I thought. He wants me so bad.

The times when he caught me staring at him in the locker room, he stared back. I knew he wanted me. I knew he needed me like I needed him, but he was awkward. He'd kept his head down in the hall when we'd first met, so I knew I'd have to make the first move.

When I followed him in my car, he was oblivious, but he wished that I was following him. It came to me while I was tapping my fingers on the steering wheel, waiting for him to leave his house. The shift in me I'd felt when I saw him; he'd felt it too. I knew it.

At night, I lay awake and he went round and round and round in my head like a fucking carousel, but the carousel wouldn't stop, and it was the middle of the night, and all the children on it were screaming and they wanted to get off but they couldn't. It just went faster and faster until they all got sick.

I yearned for his warmth in my bed. I yearned to just fuck him so hard and in one way I hardly knew him, but if it wasn't okay for me to want him then why did my head keep telling me over and over that it was?

My mind was a machine. I didn't sleep the night before, because I was thinking about whether I should do it or not, and if I was too scared.

I'm not scared.

He wants me.

He's been waiting for this just like I have.

So this is how it happened. At 11PM I waited for him halfway between his house and the library. If I was hungry back when I first met him, then I was starving as I sat in the static darkness. I looked at the dash every minute, feeling like ten had gone by in between each time I looked. My hands were on the wheel, tapping out a rhythm impatiently. I waited and waited and waited.

Finally, he showed, walking quickly from the other end of the street. When he drew near, I climbed out, slamming the door behind me, and when he caught sight of my towering figure. His pace slowed until he came to a stop about ten paces away.

"Hey," I said. Silence.

He wants me. Any second now.

"S-sorry," he began. Fear painted his voice. "Do I… know you?"

This was all wrong. Something had gone wrong. I covered the distance between us within three seconds, and I knew he wanted it so I grabbed the bag of his head and kissed him. I kissed him hard, and my hands moved down his back, pulling him closer. It felt so fucking good. No more waiting.

He pulled away, pushed weakly at my chest and turned to run, but I grabbed him by his arm, my grip tightening around his wrist when he struggled.

"Let go!" he shouted. "For fuck's sake, let go!" His Southern accent was adorable. I wanted to kiss him again, but he kept on pulling away.

"What's the matter?" I asked, trying to sound calm.

Something's not right. I've gone wrong somewhere.

He kept on pulling. I picked him up, threw him over my shoulder and carried him back to my car, shoving him into the back. He tried kicking me on the way, but I barely felt it. He was so light in my arms I could barely feel him.

I climbed into the driver's seat and turned child lock on, before slamming my hands onto the steering wheel. Jasper was kicking the door in the back, shouting for help. My mind was a mess. Everything seemed abstract and out of place, and it went round and round and round before any of it started to make sense. I waited for a second, eyes closed, before I acted.

Suddenly, it occurred to me what I'd done. A weight entered my body, and I knew in that second that this was wrong. I'd been wrong all along, and I had no fucking clue what to do, but I knew there was no bargaining with him now, not after what I'd done.

I turned around in my seat, and grabbed him by his hair. He stopped kicking and shouting instantly. I felt him shiver underneath my hands. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. "Jasper," I said. My voice was shaking, but I don't think he heard me anyway. "If you tell anyone about this, I'll kill you." I breathed in one ragged breath. "I'll kill you before they can save you."

JPOV

I spent most of the day curled up on the sofa downstairs. The phones were disconnected, and my cell was in my bag, which I'd searched the house for, although it was to no success. I didn't really feel like I could do anything apart from sit there and watch the day go by, waiting for him to get back and do it all again.

The only thing that crossed my mind was my family. I was terrified for them. I had no way to contact them, to tell them I was alright. The door was locked, and even if it wasn't, I'm not sure if I'd chance escape. If it would be worth it. He'd told me that he'd kill me.

I felt weak; fragile. Derailed. At the time, the future didn't seem to exist.

The sound of keys came again. I heard him enter one block of metal into the lock, twist it and swing the door open. My heart felt heavy as I realised that he was back, that I'd have to look into his face and convince him that I wanted him, like he'd asked me to so many times during that night.

The sound of footsteps was in the hall outside, approaching, and a girl with short, black, spiky hair poked her head around the doorway. She let out an ear-splitting, scream. "What are you doing here?" she asked.