Hello everyone! I'm currently updating my chapters in preparation for writing the last chapter of this story, then I'll be on to a sequel and a couple of other things :) For more info check out my profile!

Also if anyone is interested I'm available to be a Beta! It's best if your story is about something I know of course, but even if it isn't I'm happy to just help with spelling, grammar and things like that. Just ask me if you're interested.

All updated chapters will have an * next to them.

All characters (except Emma Hhaze) belong to Stephenie Meyer

*Prologue*

I sat in the driver's seat of my wrecked Astra and waited, for what I didn't know, but there was nothing else that I could do. It was only a few days ago I had been complaining about having to move so often, and now look where I was. In the position where I couldn't move even though I wanted nothing more. I don't think I'd ever wanted anything more than to move out of the sun that was beating down in the Arizona desert, making me feel as though I was roasting inside the confines of my car, and by the look of my skin I was. My usually ghostly skin - pale from the hours spent indoors hiding - was now burnt and peeling away in places. It was painful just to look at so I refrained from touching it no matter how much I wanted to soothe my pain. My once wavy raven coloured hair was matted and slick with dirt and grease. Probably worst of all, my skin had broken out. I knew it was a stupid thing to care about especially in the circumstances but I couldn't help feeling self-conscious. I was a teenager after all.

I'm too young for this, I thought to myself. I was only sixteen. I should be worrying about school and boys and trying to sneak out to house parties, not running away from aliens who wanted to replace my 'soul' with theirs. I didn't have a problem admitting I was young, not to myself anyway, although I would refute any adult calling me a child.

I punched the steering wheel angrily as the suspension creaked in protest from going over yet another patch of uneven ground. I'd been out in this God-forsaken desert for three days now and I was sick of it. I was sick of the sun. Sick of the gritty sand. Sick of the creosote. And most of all I was sick of the fear of coyotes. I hadn't seen one yet but I couldn't shake the feeling that they were hiding somewhere, waiting in suspense for me to venture out of my car. I was also in fear of my water supply, it was now dangerously past the point that could be called dwindling. The heat was unbearable in the car but I didn't dare go out of it. Once I walked away from it I was sure I'd never find my way back. Just like I had done with the road.

I was lost. There was little doubt in my mind that I would never find my way back again and I grew more convinced by the day, the unremarkable landscape of the desert was evidence to that. I couldn't find a landmark anywhere and I hadn't especially been looking for one when I turned up here, I'd just driven off the road to escape. The only things around were mountains and they all looked the same from every angle to me, I'd always been terrible with geography and now it was back to bite me. With a pang I looked at the fuel gauge, it was empty, and sure enough I could hear the gas tank sucking on air. I was doomed. Another wave of bittersweet emotion accompanied the car giving out on me. I let it carry on with its momentum, until finally it lurched to a stop in a particularly big ditch in the sand.

I could feel part of me - although only a small part let it be said - that was rejoicing. I could be happy I lasted this long at least, even if it didn't turn out quite how I had planned, but then were was my life meant to lead? There was no future for someone like me.

I may have escaped those monsters but I was still going to die. I felt a bubble of laughter rise in me although it sounded more like a hoarse croak. I suspect lack of water was the culprit of that. The laughter itself was probably caused by hysteria from the lack of sleep, food and water, not to mention chronic loneliness. I tried not to associate with anyone anymore. No friends or family. No one to confide in or befriend. I just couldn't cope. I felt the laughter again and it shook my body. Then a sob. No. I wouldn't cry. I always hated crying. It was weak of me. This was my choice to be lonely and I would stick with it. I thought back to the last person I had befriended, a girl the same age as me and human. Anna, and her mother. She was a smart one. Unfortunately when the Seekers came they just weren't fast enough. I wanted to help them but I only just escaped myself. Grief racked my body. I wouldn't socialise anymore, I don't think I'd be able to take the pain of losing one more person.

The pessimistic part of my mind - which I'll freely admit to being the more dominant recently - reminded me I had two options. I could either slowly die in this car like a slow cooked ham, or go out into the desert in search of… something, I wasn't sure what. The added bonus of this would be the possible excitement of heatstroke or maybe even an encounter with a coyote.

Oh joy. I thought with a roll of my eyes. Even at deaths door I couldn't curb my sarcasm.

However terrible my impending doom, I couldn't help feeling slightly smug, I had won in the end. It may not be the victory I'd been hoping for, after all I was still going to die, but they would never use my body as a host. I had beaten them, one million to one. I gave another laugh-sob. Yep, definitely hysterical. I wouldn't cry, there was no point letting myself get unreasonably dehydrated - as if I wasn't already. I would take this any day though; in comparison to letting myself be a host this was a walk in the park.

I don't know how long I sat considering my fate, it could have been minutes of hours, but soon enough the sun was starting to set. I decided to make up my mind where I would prefer to die tomorrow, and I climbed into the back of my tiny Astra to sleep, slipping forward on the seats due to the tilt of the car I'd just nose-dived into the sand. The position was made excruciatingly uncomfortable by the fact I was tall, about five-ten, so the car was at least a foot too short for me in this position.

I pulled a blanket, old, tattered and discarded on the floor after last nights use, over me. It would get cold soon. Really cold.

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