When you aren't thinking clearly, I suppose you let your mind begin to wander.

Biology is possibly the worst and best class of all, mainly because of him. It is the worst because I yearn to touch his flawless face, yet he is out of my reach. Best, because I can stare at the back of his perfectly tousled hair…

'Are you able to begin the passage, Isabella?' Mr Schmidt has a disconcerting nature. He doesn't tolerate people slacking in his class and therefore has a very annoying habit of interrupting my thoughts when I am just starting to lose myself to them.

'Uh - from which page, Sir?' I could tell the class was stifling a laugh behind the simultaneous coughs which were occurring.

'Well, since we haven't started reading yet, Isabella, I did not think that takes that much intellect to figure that out. Though, I suppose that for someone with your… hobbies, it would.' Mr Schmidt looked between he and I. I figured he has known my secret obsession for a while now.

As some manic giggles flowed through the room, I began to read. 'Genetic Modification often referred to as GM…' again, my mind began to wander. I was thinking something completely different to what my mouth was saying – a skill I perfected years ago.

I was thinking about the way we met. I had been pushed, and fell over, on the way to my English class. He was my knight in shining… cotton. As soon as he saw me he came in front of me, and stopped. I was taken aback because no one ever takes notice of me, especially when I'm on the ground – in my proper place. He bent over, gathering my fallen papers with an ease and grace that I did not hold. His piercing green eyes locked with mine as he handed the papers over. As soon as I held them firmly he got up and walked away. That was it, no 'there you go' or 'see you around'. He just got up and left. I stood in the corridor for what felt like hours, but was only five minutes. I fantasized about him for the rest of the day.

I guess he was scared away by my appearance. I was definitely not the prettiest girl in the school. I had thick rimmed glasses, braces and my hair was naturally a mess, so I never tried to tame it. The most I ever tried to do was straighten it, and that didn't go so well. I burnt half my hair in an attempt to flatten the curls that framed my face.

I finished the passage that was assigned for me to read and had nothing to do. So I settled for doodling in the back of my book.

When the bell rang I had managed to draw something that resembled one of the Borg on 'Star Trek'. Those things always freaked me out. The way they looked at you like you were potential circuitry.

I arose from my seat, attempting to replicate the same grace that he had. I caught my foot on the side of the table as I tried to take a step. As the momentum threw me forward, Mr Schmidt caught me.

I saw a different person then. Instead of being the man with a disconcerting nature, he seemed like a man that was genuinely frightened for someone's safety. 'Oh, sorry about that Isabella, I did not mean anything by that act. I simply –'

I cut him off, he was starting to ramble. 'It's okay Sir. I know you didn't. You were just trying to stop me from falling and breaking a neck.' I laughed nervously. If he hadn't been there to stop me from falling, I would have caught my neck on the seat that my obsession sits on, ending my life sooner than I had preferred. It was then that I noticed he was still holding me. I coughed and took a step back. 'Was there anything you wanted to talk to me about, sir?'

It looked like he mentally shook himself, and then refocused. 'You need to pay more attention to what I have to say in class. Your infatuation with that boy has caused a downward trend in your grades. You need to understand; I am here as a privilege for you, not the other way around. If your grades fall any more I will need to involve your parents.'

I physically winced at the thought of my parents being involved. They were kind people, just not towards me. If I didn't get in trouble, or in their way, they act as if I don't exist, which is preferable to the other option. 'I'll do my best.'

'I know you will, Isabella. Thank you. You are excused.' It was then he returned to his usual self.

I walked out of the room feeling puzzled. Had I caught a glimpse of the man that was beneath the mask? Or was that man, just another layer to a strange, walking onion.

I pondered this conundrum on my way home. Things weren't that different, just another day in the life of Isabella Swan. As I walked, I noticed that people were staying away from me – I mean, more than usual – it was as if I had some scary facial deformity that was contagious. It was only until I turned around when I saw the purple van following me at the corner behind me. I turned two more corners, checking behind me each time, and that damned van was still behind me.

I plucked the courage to stop and face it. They weren't stupid enough to stop and practically yell 'who, me?', instead they kept driving. At least until the back doors were parallel to me.

This is THE van, what have you done now, you stupid girl. My subconscious was practically yelling at me to look at the situation and run, memorizing the number plate as I ran. Yet I couldn't, fear had me frozen in place, staring at the back until the doors flew open and three people dressed in black came towards me.

The crashing sound of the doors broke me out of my deadly trance. I started to run, and I mean run. But the other people were faster, longer legs were a great advantage to have at this moment in time.

I barely reached the corner when they grabbed my collar. I threw my weight backwards and fell with the person behind me. I heard the crack when their head collided with the concrete path.

The others were fast too. Pinning me down so I had nowhere to run, let alone breathe. The coppery smell of blood hit me then, and I saw black faster than if anyone gave me a sedative.

I awoke to the house hitting a pothole. Houses don't hit potholes, and that's when I remembered just where I was. This is THE van, the van where people go missing.

()()()()()()()()()()()()

Ta Da!

I'm so sorry about my recent absence from the community, but things have been pretty hectic down here.

Oh, before I forget: I do not own… most of the characters in this story. That is Stephanie Meyer's job.

Well, good bye and don't forget to review!

Thank you, and see you next time!