Stalker
"...We know that the road to freedom has always been stalked by death..."
That night everything had changed. The night air was a bit chillier than usual. A draft blew through the window, and pale arms pulled cotton sheets upwards to wrap more tightly around an equally as pale neck. While lost in the world of cascading dreams, Bella Swan hadn't even noticed the fact that she had never opened her window that night. Nor did she notice the figure perched on her window sill.
The first month of school had moved relatively slow, with the exception of the first and last day of the month. The first day, she sat next to a teenage boy in her Science class only to receive death glares the entire period. She was alarmed, to say the least. Curiosity as to the origin of his behavior was quickly replaced with hesitation and caution to stay away from the student. She knew of people who had bipolar disease before, and she had never had any pleasant experiences with them (unless they were on medication). The entire hour was filled with her staring at the teacher, intently, while pretending she didn't notice the pair of eyes boring into her side. She made a mental note to request a seat change as soon as the class was over. She was not, however, expecting the instigator of her discomfort to bolt from the class as soon as the bell rang.
That had been a month ago. Last week, the student had returned. He had introduced himself as Edward Cullen. He was polite. He was courteous. He had asked her questions about herself, to which she answered briefly. His disappearing act was either the result of a schedule change or he had seen a doctor and had received a formal diagnosis. It would explain his rather amicable attitude towards her. They had gotten through the period together, but the feeling of being uncomfortable never left her. It didn't help that suddenly he had seemed very interested in her. She had noticed him following her out of the corner of her eye. On top of that, inexplicable things seemed to be happening.
A car that should have crushed her and killed her instantly was stopped by him. There was something supernatural about him. Something dangerous about him. Something that told her he did not belong in this world. Something she wanted nothing more than to be away from. The next day, he had followed her around again at school, he was curious as to why she didn't ask about the previous day's incident. When she didn't bring it up, he eventually did, and she attempted to change the subject. He kept on pushing it, however, until she was forced to yell Mike Newton's name and demand that he let her sit with him at lunch.
Lunch was supposed to be the time for social interactions amongst friends. She tried to join in. She had laughed at Mike's jokes, and she had given Angela advice about what dress to wear to homecoming. She put up with Jessica's discussions about her parent's 'supposed' wealth, and she had endured Eric's flirting with grace. The one thing she could not ignore, however, was the piercing glare being sent her way from across the cafeteria. When the bell rang for the next period, she threw her tray onto the conveyor belt and grabbed both Angela's and Mike's hand and dragged them off to the gym with her. She had managed to use her adrenaline throughout PE to ignore his presence in the shadows of the halls outside the gymnasium.
When Science rolled around on the fourth day, he was polite again. She answered all of his questions briefly again, but she was still uncomfortable. His eyes were black again. His eyes were angry again. She had silently cursed the fact that she could not change seats. He was building momentum, however, and was suddenly asking her why he couldn't hear her thoughts. She had flashed him an incredulous look and he had warned her as to how dangerous he was. She had replied that she knew, and to please stay away from her. He had looked a little lost then, and she suddenly feared for her life.
But the window was open, and she didn't know. And as her dreams cascaded downward and her subconscious hit the ground, her eyes flew open and met angry black. She screamed, a long and drawn out cry of terror, and he fled from her room. He was nothing more than a blur in the night. Bright lights flooded her room, and suddenly the underappreciated father from her past was the golden beacon of her present. Wrapping her arms around his neck, Charlie had needed no further warning to take her down to the police station. A restraining order was put out, but Bella knew that in the end, that would be useless.
He was obsessed with her. The soft sway of her brown hair, the wails of misery as her nightmares pounded on into the night. The way she could block out her thoughts to everyone but herself. The way she spoke, as if she had a worldly insight at only the age of 17. The way she breathed. The way she smelled. The way her skin looked under the moonlight. The way the blood pounded through her veins: bright, red, pulsating, and delectable. He told her he was dangerous, but he wanted her. She told him she knew, and to stay away. He had seen the fear in her eyes, and had heard the terror in her voice, and it was like a stake had jammed itself into his heart. He was indestructible, but his heart was not.
It was not the first night she had caught him inside her room. There was a second time, and a third, and then she had purchased her plane tickets to Arizona. She had begged her father to come with her, but he wouldn't. He couldn't, as he had told her. She would have waited, but she knew any sign of hesitation would be an opportunity for him to claim her, and she couldn't allow that to happen. She knew what he was; he had never missed an opportunity to flaunt his true nature. She was terrified of the reality that the boundaries of normal and paranormal had been shattered.
Weeks passed by in Arizona without incident. At night, she slept. In the day, she went to school. She hung out with her friends and her grades improved. She could sleep at night without terror clinging to her like an unwanted blanket. She was safe and the boundaries that defined normal were starting to be rebuilt. She had convinced herself that it had all been nothing but a nightmare. That the chill she felt in her dreams at night was not a window opening in reality. That the teeth that scraped her flesh were not an indication of the eradication of the remaining sanity in a monster. That the teeth that sunk into her flesh and stilled her beating heart were not those of her stalker.
Author's Note: I own nothing. Stephanie Meyers owns all of Twilight.