Disclaimer: I do not own anything Twilight. Stephanie Myers does.

Author's Warning: This is rated M for language and lots of lemons (future chapters). Some dark themes present, but nothing to intense. Promise.

So this is my first story. Please be gentle with me. I didn't get this approved by a beta. I was too excited as this is my first chapter. Future chapters, however, will be beta-approved. I placed the setting in Louisiana also. It's where I'm from and I think it's a great place to live. Lots of history and culture down here.

*Thanks mblueyez7. Couldn't have become obsessed if it wasn't for you.*

Chapter One

BPOV

I was running.

I knew it and I didn't care. I had to escape. There is only so much one person can take before the emotions become to overwhelming. My reality was becoming a watery blur and I was drowning in it. The last year of my life was layered with confusion, chaos, and tears.

The cause of all the suffering: my mother's death.

No one would doubt that I shouldn't be able to grieve the lost of my mother. What child wouldn't lose some sort of sanity at the death of the person that raised them? But how do I grieve for my mother, who promised to love me always, when she picks up a gun and shoots herself in the head with me as her audience? Every one I asked had no clue. The medication I was on didn't know the answer to that question either.

So here I am, driving, with only my clothes and my books to keep me company.

My destination? No idea. Do I have a plan? Not at all. Am I looking back at all the people I'm leaving behind, my friends and family who tried to help me when I was pretty sure the pain would swallow me whole? Nope. Am I on this unknown road to an unknown destination so I don't have to answer those questions in a timely fashion? Absolutely.

That is, until my truck starts to vibrate. Great. I look down and the temperature needle was right where it shouldn't be. My little truck sputtered and died right on the unknown road I was on. Stupid of me not to be paying attention. That's what I get for buying the first used car I saw to help me run away.

"Just perfect. Fuck my life."

I slammed my head on to the steering wheel. What the hell am I supposed to do now? I don't even know where I am. I finally look around at my surroundings. I wasn't really sure what I was looking at. Was that corn? It was tall, green stalks of something.

"Definitely not corn. Just not sure what it is though."

It was then I realized that I had somehow redirected myself off the interstate. When the hell did I turn off onto a back road? I searched for a sign somewhere to point where I was. Not even a mile marker was present.

"Well isn't that just helpful."

I try and think if I brought any tools with me, only to remember that I left them at my mother's house. They were a birthday gift from her. I didn't want the reminder. So of course I left them. I didn't even have a water bottle in my truck.

"And now I'm just shit out of luck," talking to my steering wheel.

I reach under and pull the latch under the wheel to pop open the hood of the truck and I open the door to get out. The sun is already setting and I don't have a flashlight. There isn't much light so I don't get to see a whole lot, but what I saw was enough for me to know that I was stuck here until help arrived. I slammed my hood back down in frustration.

"Knowing my luck," I huffed out as I opened the door to get back in my truck, "some maniacal serial killer will pass by and no one will ever see me again."

I groaned out loud knowing that I now have to formulate a plan to figure out what to do. That required thinking. I don't like to think. Not without medication, which I currently don't have.

I sighed again to my steering wheel, "Fuck my life."

I put my hazard lights on so, if someone did pass, they wouldn't crash into the back of my truck. But seeing how I'm the luckiest girl on the planet, it probably would happen anyway. Lights or no lights. I really couldn't believe that I hadn't been paying attention to the truck as it was over heating. Was I in that much of a daze that I really ignored that? I was so intent on getting the hell out of dodge, that I forgot to even look at the truck before I left. I should know better. But at the time, guess I really wasn't caring.

"What the hell am I supposed to do now?" I screamed at my steering wheel. We were fast becoming best friends.

Before I could answer that question, however, I saw the distinct glare of headlights in my mirror. I gave a knowing sigh, "And her comes my serial killer."

The headlights continued to get closer. I almost started to panic. Almost. Until I realized that at this point in my life, I really didn't care who it was. As long as he wasn't some lunatic who wanted to wear my skin and could get me somewhere that had tools, he would do. I looked up in the mirror, noticing the headlights were slowing down. I realized it was a car because the lights were low to the ground. It came to a stop behind me and I heard a door open. A tall shadow got out and I heard the door slam behind him. He started walking towards my truck. I could tell that it was a man. Women shadows just weren't built that way.

I took a steady, deep breath and opened my car door.

"Holy shit." a voice cursed loudly.

I looked up and realized that I had just slammed my door into the man's face. Of course I did. Why? Because I'm just lucky like that. I hadn't even noticed that he had leaned down to my car window.

"Oh my gosh. I'm so sorry. I wasn't paying attention. Are you hurt?"

I got out of my truck and stood. He had backed away a little. His hands had come up to his face and he was holding his nose. I didn't know what to do. Should I just stand here or go have a closer look? Not like I could do anything anyway.

"Yeah," he said to me, his voice a little lower. "Just give me a minute to recover."

I just stood there. Even though his hands were covering his face, I could finally make out the rest of him. He was tall and slender. Not skinny, because there definitely was muscle, but he wasn't overly built. He was in a pair of dark denim jeans and a white shirt. He had a green hoodie on and some very old converse that had obviously seen better days. I was trying to make out the logo on his shirt when I saw the first drop.

"Fuck. You're bleeding," I cursed more at myself than at him. "I didn't know I hit you that hard."

I finally moved from where I was stupidly leaning against my truck and moved in front of him. He moved his hands from in front of his face and I saw the extent of the damage I caused. There was a steady flow of blood dripping from his nose onto his shirt.

"Holy fuck. Please tell me I didn't break..."

I couldn't finish my sentence. I had looked up from his mangled nose into the greenest eyes I have ever seen. Despite the blood, this man was beautiful. I know that's weird for a guy, but I didn't know how else to describe him. His lips looked like heaven. He was perfect. So I just stared like a freakish idiot. He brought his hands back up to his face. I wanted to scream at him not to cover up. Where the hell did that come from? I took a step further back towards my truck. That thought had come from my head, and it definitely scared me a little.

He glanced at me worriedly. "No it's not broken. Just give me a second."

He turned away from me and started to walk back to his car. I followed him with my eyes, admiring his back. I lowered my eyes to his ass. I immediately felt a hot flush start to crawl up my face. Well that certainly turned me on. It was damn near perfect.

I was still staring at him as he opened his back door and pulled out some sort of fabric. As he brought it towards his nose and started wiping, I snapped out of my daze. I started to blush as I finally remembered I had just hit him in the face with the door of my truck. He was still wiping his nose as he looked up towards me. I was staring into his eyes again. They were like beams. I was a deer in the headlights and was immediately drawn to them. They were like shining emeralds of wonder.

Shining emeralds of wonder? Had I taken a happy pill and not realized it?

I hadn't even noticed I was standing by his car until I felt the warmth coming from his open car door. Had I actually walked towards this unknown man's car? Those eyes will be the death of me. I heard a muffled noise and snapped out of my freakish staring. Again.

"I'm sorry. What was that?"

He lowered the towel from his face. "I asked if you were alright. You looked a little pale when I moved my hands and you saw the blood."

His voice was so smooth, like velvet. That would probably kill me too. Great. Not only that, but he thought I got all squeamish around blood. Hadn't I seen my mother's splattered all over our living room.

Stop thinking.

"No, no. I'm fine. The blood doesn't bother me." Why would it? "I guess I wasn't expecting it to even be there. I didn't know I had hit you that hard with my door. Are you sure you're OK?" Ugh. I sounded like I was begging him to be alright. Get it together.

He gave me this crooked grin that nearly caused me to have a massive stroke.

"Yeah. I'm fine. Nothing a little ice and Tylenol won't cure," he said.

The smile he had on his face nearly had me melting on the spot. I didn't really hear him all that well because I had also just noticed his sex-me-up hair and was trying to restrain my fingers from grabbing at it. The sky had already got darker, so I couldn't really make out what color it was.

Snap out of it. You just met this man, hit him with your door, and now you want to run your fingers through his hair. Have you forgotten he still could be some crazed serial killer?

I almost had control of my irrational thoughts when the grin he had been wearing was immediately erased from his face. It was replaced by a hard, thin line. I looked up and his eyes had gone cold. He reached towards his car door and opened it very slowly, still staring at me. I wasn't sure what was going on but when I saw him reach in and pull out a rifle, I slowly started to have that panic attack that I had ignored earlier.

"Wha..."

"Don't move," he whispered. His voice was just as cold and hard as his eyes. He started to raise the gun towards me. "And whatever you do, don't scream."

Great. He was a serial killer.

Please review and tell me what you think. I'm not obsessed with them, but they would be very helpful and encouraging.