I do not in any way, shape, or form own Twilight. I do own the plot and Elizabeth Angelica Hallow is a character of my own creation though.

I dug for spare change out of my coat pocket and stepped into the dingy phone booth in the lobby. There was only one other person there besides me, a Mexican chick behind the receptionist area who was chomping on a piece of gum and reading a magazine, I wasn't worried about her. Slowly I deposited each coin with a clink and dialed a number I hadn't dared to call for six years. Please pick up. Please pick up. Please pick up. Plea —

"Hello?" The voice wasn't what I remembered it being, this voice was deep and gruff sounding, not in the least bit the warm voice I had been used to. Oh well, a lot of time had passed.

"Jacob!" I exclaimed.

"Who is this?"

I was nearly in tears, "It's Angel." I whispered.

There was a moments pause and than, "Angel! As in Elizabeth Angelica Hallow? My cousin Angel? The cousin who disappeared six years ago Angel?"

I sighed, "Yeah, that Angel." I said it with only a touch of sarcasm and than paranoia hit and I glanced around warily before whispering, "Jacob, I need help." I forced the words unwillingly out of my mouth.

"What is it? What happened?" Was his instant response and soon his words were pouring out so fast I had trouble distinguishing what he was saying, "We haven't heard from you since Auntie died. You were supposed to be on a plane to Seattle and than, guess what? Nothing! Not a phone call! Not a letter! Not. One. WORD. I mean, for God's sakes Angel, it's been six years. What happened? Why now?

"I couldn't come home!" I shouted angrily before glancing around and lowering my voice. "I couldn't come home." I repeated. "For six years I've been running because some—" I broke off and whispered.

"Something's been following me."

I heard him take in a breath and than slowly and calmly ask, "Where are you?"

"I'm staying at some crappy hotel in downtown Seattle, The Morningbird. Jake," My voice broke, for once showing my real fear, "Come get me. I'm scared."

Please insert more coins if you would like to extend your time.

"Hell." I cursed. "Jacob, the time's almost up."

"I'll be there. Stay where you are." He said resolutely.

"Hurry Jake, I don't know how long it'll be before it finds me again." I said stressing the it and not saying he.

"I'll—" Suddenly the line is cut off and all I can hear is the steady buzz of nothing.

If you would like to make a call, please insert more coins. The metallic woman's voice says. I growl and with a good slam of the receiver, leave. Carefully, I make my way to my room, making eye contact with noone. I gratefully lock the chain on the door and check my entire room for anyone or anything. Finally, I settle down in to the awkward hotel's chair, trusting it to be cleaner than the bed.

With the loud thumping of the base coming through the thin walls, I let sleep come to me. With sleep comes haunting images of past. They dance back and forth, in and out of my vision, until a scene finally settles.

Gritty, weather stained floor covered with thin particles of sand. Against my back is a rough wooden wall. Above my head, a dirty window that go so long uncleaned it's a wonder the sun shines through it as distinctly as it does. The sun's pattern shines through creating for squares of light on the floor in front of me. The air tastes dry, as if hard to breathe. And the heat, it's blistering, scorching everything under it.

A shadow passes across, I see it on the floor in front of me. Something is out there. A feeling of dread and despair fills me. I shove a hand across my mouth to keep from screaming. Minutes pass, I don't relax, keeping frozen, petrified against the wall. Seconds tick by slowly.

— CRASH —

Wood explodes in on me. Glass shatters fly everywhere. Great clouds of dust and sand come up and as the air slowly starts to settle around me, a great pair of red eyes.

I yank my eyes open and wrap my arms around myself, shuddering violently. That had been our second encounter. I had first me him when I had walked in on him killing my momma and proceeding to drink her blood. He had looked up at my frozen form and whispered, "Run. But I'll follow you. And someday, I'll catch you."

I had run. It hadn't mattered about the warning. It was my natural instinct to run and run I did. I was picked up by some police two days later, about ten miles away from my home. Social service workers were called and I was to be sent back to the reservation to live with my uncle and cousins. But I remembered the red eyed thing and I refused to lead that demonic creature back to my loved ones. I escaped the social service worker at the Pheonix terminal, with an excuse of going into the bathroom. The bathroom had two doors. While my service worker, who was a man, waited outside the bathroom at one door, I slipped out the other. That was when I was eleven.

About nine months later I had somehow managed to get myself to a desert in Texas. That's when the cold one found me. I had long since realized that he was, indeed, a cold one. He had been eerily civil, saying, "Hello Elizabeth." But when I had tried to run he had grabbed the fingers on my right hand that they broke.

I heard them snap, a sickening snap, before I felt the pain that caused me to fall to the ground screaming. "Tut tut." He said. "Bad manners Elizabeth. You will listen to what I have to say." He ignored the tears that poured down my cheeks and continued, "You have amused me, dear. Very clever, very hard to tract and find." He smiled at me, and than said, "For your resourcefulness I will allow you a chance. You will have exactly three hours, no more, no less, to run and try to flee." He grinned as he said this, as if he was discussing a fun little game and asking me to play. "If you somehow escape, than our little chase will continue. If you don't, I will kill you."

I had choked at this and turned to scrabble away, but he restrained me easily, but this time, did not grab me hard enough to break me. "But first—" He swiftly picked a glass shard off of the ground and carefully, drew it in a hard strait line from the corner of my left eye down to my jaw. My tears mixed with it, making it sting more. He inhaled and said in a strange voice, "Lovely." This control at the smell of my blood scared me worst of all. In the stories, they always went crazy at the smell of blood.

I ran and somehow, a greater force was on my side and on a road that I had never seen anyone ever drive on came a car. In it were two teenage girls, they had been either drunk, high, or stupid, but had agreed to take me to the bus station. I stole from them. Money. I had hated doing it, but I had needed to in order to survive. And than, another miracle. Rain. It never rained, never, but on the one day I had truly needed it, it rained. The rain washed away my scent and my tracts. I hopped from bus to bus, getting farther and farther away.

Over the next six years I would meet him four more times. Each time he would act amused, give me a wound that would eventually scar, and let me go. He enjoyed our game of cat and mouse. Me being the helpless mouse he chased.

I wretched as the image from our last encounter came to me and shoved myself to my feet. I staggered across the room and than turned the faucet on full flow. Cupping my hands I shoved the water into my face two, three times, and than stopped breathing heavily. Looking into the mirror, I examined myself. The cut on my cheek had long since healed, leaving a silver scar like the trace of a tear on my cheek. My dad's green eyes were wide and somewhat wild, not the innocent eyes they had once been. My hair hung in a long, matted, and now sopping wet tangled mass of curls.

Tears began to prick my eyes. I wanted to go home. To be safe and not constantly on the run. To be with family who would love me and take care of me. But mostly, I just wanted to go home.

— Thud. Thud. Thud. —

A banging on the door startled and scared me at the same time.

Ok y'all. Do you like my story? Please, please, please, pleeeease review. I want to hear what you all think. Good? Bad? What?