Author's note: This idea for a Bella/Edward/Victoria story has been brewing inside my brain for a while. I've affectionately nicknamed it my BEV project. I have a strong idea of how this story is going to progress, though I have left the summary vague enough to give me some room to work with in case it develops differently.

Thanks ahead of time for reading.

Chapter 1: Close Encounter

"Can't you take a hint or are you just trying to annoy me? Bella, we can't be friends anymore. Got it?"

"Why won't you listen? Stop calling."

"Don't say that. You don't need me. You never even wanted my friendship. You just used me to get Charlie off your back. I don't get it. Why can't you move on from those filthy bloodsuckers? All they've done is keep you from living your life! Look, just don't make this any harder than it already is. Don't call again."

Bella was glad that she was already sitting at the edge of her bed, or else she would've collapsed in a clumsy heap to the floor.

Over a series of terse phone calls not only had Jake called Bella out on her bullshit, as he would say, but he had also insulted the very people that had changed her life and given it meaning.

The slur reverberated in her mind long after he slammed his phone into the receiver. Not the Cullens, not them. But bloodsuckers, filthy bloodsuckers.

She stared down at her cellphone in disbelief, struggling to reconcile the warm, always-cheerful Jacob with those harsh words.

His easygoing nature was what had brought them together in the first place. Always optimistic—even when he fumed about Sam and his gang, which he frequently referred to as those SHITS (Stupid Humongous Idiots Trolling Shit), a terrible joke that deducted a couple years off his thirty-three—he distracted Bella from her pain.

He always knew what to say and what not to say around her.

It seemed he also knew exactly how to break her.

Her sun had been eclipsed by an unknown darkness, and it left her feeling chilled to the bone. She shouldn't hurt this bad, she knew, but she had been using him as a crutch for far too long that naturally she had grown used to his company. Dependent on it, even.

After hearing those hurtful words, there was also fear that he had somehow confirmed the legend of the Cold Ones. Why else would someone call another person a bloodsucker?

Realizing this was impossible, the fear assuaged to a familiar frustration: the slur was meant to demean her. Like everyone else, Jacob probably thought she was pathetically caught up in the Cullen's allure, with their mystical beauty and deep pockets. Only he probably saw her devotion to them as the result of some cultish obsession with the supernatural. He was probably kicking himself for telling her the legend in the first place.

It was true that Bella had used Jacob to appease Charlie. After Sam had found her in a catatonic state in the woods that night, and she'd realized that Charlie had gotten the whole town involved to investigate her disappearance, Bella vowed to resume normality for both her and Charlie's sake. She kept her grades high and continued to hang out with her friends, even going as far as planning outings with them to stay occupied. She talked, she laughed, she smiled. This was what people saw. And they truly believed she had moved on. Despite her best efforts, however, she still felt different from when she'd first arrived to Forks.

In the six months that followed her disastrous birthday, she had irretrievably slipped into a zombie state. Each day would bleed into the next, tedious and unexciting, and sometimes she'd find herself standing in front of the stove, cooking steaks and potatoes, and realize that she couldn't remember going to school that day at all. But like the Cullens, she decided to move past the bad and assimilate to human life, although never quite feeling at peace.

The crushing end to the last vestiges of her friendship with Jake brought on a wave of concern. She wondered if Charlie was just as unconvinced by her act.

Bella gripped the bed covers with white-blotched fists, tears escaping the corners of her eyes. She quickly focused on her breathing, seeking to smother out the short, licking flames of shame that threatened to grow.

Inhale, exhale. A flash of Charlie's smile. His taciturn nods of approval whenever she'd declare that she'd be going out with friends. Inhale, exhale. She wiped her tears, eager to wave it all behind.

There's no way Charlie suspects anything. And if he does, there's nothing for him to call me out on. At least nothing he knows about. Not the motorcycles, the fake ID, or the deep-rooted pain...

With those thoughts, Bella quickly shrugged on a weatherproof jacket, checking to make sure her keys were inside one of the pockets. She also grabbed her cellphone off the bed, texting Mike that she wouldn't be able to join their friends at La Push for their semi-ritual Saturday night gatherings. Charlie was in the living room, intently watching a basketball game on the TV. March Madness in full swing.

Bella announced she was going to First Beach without expecting much of a response, so she couldn't stop the flash of annoyance when he called her over. As Charlie paused the TV, she became nervous.

"Yeah, Dad?"

"You're going to La Push... Does that mean you fixed things up with Jake?"

Bella fidgeted.

She really wished Charlie hadn't found out about their fight, but Jake's angry tirade, not dissimilar to the ones on the phone, had called Billy and Charlie's attention over to the rusty garage, where she stood frozen in fear as she watched Jake destroy the motorcycles they (mostly him) had worked so hard to fix, ranting about how she could care less about him even though he was doing her a favor and earnestly trying to be a friend despite her antisocial behavior. Sweat had beaded across his russet skin and his body had shook with rage. Days after, she'd called him to apologize for being a terrible friend, but Billy had answered the phone, telling her he was sick with a nasty flu. A week later Billy was still telling her that he was too ill to see her. Until these phone calls, she hadn't believed otherwise.

"No. I'm just meeting up with some friends from school."

"Is he still sick?"

"No, he's not sick, Dad. It was just... a really big fight."

"What were you guys fighting about?"

"I'd rather not go into it."

"I don't understand. I really thought you kiddos were getting along."

His words made her feel guilty for not sharing Jake's amorous feelings. Her life would be simpler if she did, and it would certainly make Charlie happy. Being friends with him was second best. However, she was sure the only way to get back on Jake's good grace was to reciprocate his love for her, and she was neither capable of falling in love with anyone other than Edward nor that good an actress.

"We were getting along," she relented, emphasizing the past tense, "It's... complicated."

Charlie stared at her a few beats before clearing his throat. "Alright, Bells. Sorry for the third degree. Go. Have some fun."

Bella's shoulders sagged with relief and she promptly left the house, conscious of the fact that Charlie kept watching her on the way out.

Closing the front door behind her, she cursed the dark clouds above. Spring in Forks, if there was such a thing. The weather forecast had predicted sunshine, but she has experienced nothing but misery so far and that didn't seem likely to change.

Her rusty red pickup rumbled to life and the monstrous vibrations followed her all the way to the Cullen house, where she'd often go at times she wanted to be alone

The abrupt, unpaved turn that led to their house was marked by a tall, skinny tree bearing her carved initials: IMS. It made it easier to spot amidst the months' worth of overgrowth. She had spent the better part of an hour cutting into the tree with a dull pocketknife she'd fished from the center console, her hands sticky with blood and tree sap because her sawing motions had become brash and her eyes had clouded over with tears until everything oozed into one hazy, sticky blur.

Even if the blood disappears a long time before the Cullens come back, she'd thought, they won't be able to miss it. They won't be able to forget me, just as I haven't been able to forget about them.

The first time she'd gathered the courage to visit, she had stayed inside her truck before driving away less than a minute later. Gazing at the hard steel and wide glass structure, she had wondered what she would find inside. She couldn't decide what would be better: Seeing that they'd left everything behind or that they had taken everything with them. The former would confirm that they were able to easily move on, while the latter would mean that Edward had kept his promise, that it would be as if they'd never existed. Even when the former turned out to be true, with the exception of some objects from Carlisle's office (the incriminating ones), she refused to read too much into it. Instead, she took it as an opportunity, a home away from home, where she was free from wandering eyes and inquisitive conversation.

Parking in front of their garage, Bella entered their house without much forethought.

Without any running water or electricity in the house, there wasn't much for her to do there. Most of the time, she slept on the beds, inhaling the remnants of their sweet scent. Occasionally, she would clean around the house, rake the leaves and take care of the flower beds, as she imagined Esme often did while Carlisle was working in the hospital and her kids—adopted, as the story went—were at school. Whenever she felt adventurous, Bella would go on a hike or sit atop a tree branch overlooking the river and nearby mountains. But today she felt particularly glum.

Grabbing a beer from the kitchen, which she'd purchased with a fake ID and kept stockpiles of for her friend's parties, Bella sat at the kitchen island, taking absentminded sips.

A couple months ago, one sip of cheap bear was enough to put her off taking any more. The acrid taste burned all the way down her throat and left a strong after-taste. Now, it took a half-dozen before she decided it was best to stop. Not that she had become a drinker. As Jessica had remarked, she was just "a little more fun."

Right now, she considered getting drunk. Anything to get her mind off the phone calls and unwind her tensed muscles. It felt like every day was a reminder of how she wasn't enough for anyone. Not her parents, not the Cullens, not Jake... She dispelled the thought with a large gulp. It was dangerous to entertain the idea with a kitchen fully stocked with alcohol and no one around to talk her out of acting carelessly.

It would be safer to just sleep it off. But her earlier upset kept her blood fizzing under her skin, so taking a long nap seemed out of the question. She tossed the beer in the garbage. It clanged to the bottom of the bin.

A sudden crash and clamor from somewhere upstairs reverberated throughout the whole house, startling Bella from her stupor. Her initial fear of an intruder had her asking aloud, "Who's there?"

Although Bella was sure she wasn't formidable enough to stand against anyone, even a stray animal, she gingerly climbed the stairwell to find the source of the ruckus.

Walking over to a pile of broken glass and crushed flowers and the overturned hall table, she glanced around, noting that from there she would have been able to see herself in the kitchen.

"Hello?" she called out in a voice that betrayed her fear.

She glanced around in a cautious manner. There was no trace of an intruder, no dirt tracks or other misplaced furnishings, yet she couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching her. There was a flicker of hope that it was one of the Cullens, but she quickly smothered the idea. Nothing more than a passing emotion, unnamed and unrecognized in her mind.

She crept down the stairs and returned with a broom and dustpan from the kitchen to clean up the mess. She made more noise than usual to break the eerie silence. After she'd disposed of the trash, she dismissed the event with a sigh.

The uneasiness lingered, however, so Bella decided to go outside.

She kept the outdoor pool clean, and it had never looked as inviting as it did now, with the sun beating down on it and the shimmering water casting bright white flakes of light across the floor like spilt glitter.

The danger forgotten, she smiled up at the sun. Its fortuitous appearance serving to lift her spirits. Standing still, she felt the warmth spill over her like a blanket. She slipped off her jacket and her pants but otherwise kept her black shirt on. Goosebumps formed on her exposed legs as the cold breeze persisted.

The water was very cold, but she nonetheless waded into the pool. Her legs disappeared underwater, then her waist, until she'd submerged herself underwater. She stuck to the edge of the pool, gripping the wall as she floated at the surface. The heat on her face was soothing and she simply relaxed, kicking her legs lightly.

A half hour later, she felt a sudden chill and she realized the clouds had hidden the sun. She decided to swim a few laps to get her body heat back. When that didn't work, she swam to the bottom of the pool, holding onto the bottom rung of the ladder as she held her breath for as long as she could before resurfacing.

After some time doing this, she decided it was best to get out of the pool. She rung her shirt dry the best she could and quickly ran to one of the bathrooms on the second floor to get hold of a towel, feeling the brunt of the cold wind on her exposed skin. A trail of wet foot prints were created in her wake. She grabbed a black shirt, similar to the one she had been wearing, from Alice's bedroom closet and quickly changed into it.

Realizing she'd left her jeans and jacket outside, Bella walked back out, only to realize that she wasn't alone.

Victoria was holding Bella's clothes to her nose like a bouquet, sniffing it as if she were alone and hadn't just heard Bella jog back to the pool area.

In that instant, Bella felt utterly cold. Her blood froze in metallic terror. She was conscious of the fact that she had no pants on and that her dark hair hung in damp dreads down to her breasts. It made her feel doubly vulnerable as Victoria's eyes slowly shifted to hers. It was the languid gaze of a sun-bathing kitten. Nonthreatening, but Bella knew better. She realized Victoria's eyes were bright red, meaning she'd fed recently, but she didn't find the thought comforting or reassuring in the least.

Satiated, Victoria's likely mission of vengeance would be unencumbered by insatiable, sloppy thirst. She would be purposeful. Capable of dragging out her death, just as James had intended.

Victoria's expression was unrecognizable. No lioness sneer, no threatening smirk. She was as frozen and enticing to look at as a statue of a Greek goddess. A nymph in the flesh, with leaves entangled in her wavy red hair and nimble feet exposed to dirt and air.

Even though Bella knew escape was futile, she found herself stumbling back.

When Victoria hadn't taken a step towards her, Bella quickly turned and sprinted across the foyer. Before she could reach the front door, she felt herself trip on something stone firm. Victoria's foot. With quick realization, Bella tried scuttling away on her forearms and toes.

Still, Victoria managed to grab hold of Bella's hair, halting her futile escape attempt and forcing a pained cry from her throat, and slammed her face down on the floor. The impact created a resounding thwack. Bella released a clipped groan at the pain. One hand fumbled over Victoria's, even though she knew she didn't have the strength to pry herself away from her tight grasp. Without a word, Victoria slammed her head down again, which stunned Bella into inaction. She let out a meek whimper as Victoria straddled her back and stooped down to nuzzle her throat, inhaling her sublime floral scent. When Bella realized that the wetness trickling down her nose and smearing on her cheek was blood, she clenched her eyes shut.

She shook hard, anticipating another hard blow or the painful injection of venom.

Victoria yanked harder on her hair before letting the weight of her skull drop her stinging head against the cold floor.

Bella gasped at the sharp pain but otherwise kept still. This was the beginning of the end. She could feel it as surely as the wooden floorboards beneath her.

A cold breeze whipped across Bella's back and her muscles coiled tighter in response. Nothing. Seconds passed with nary a sound.

After a while, Bella realized that she was alone. Disbelieving of the attack's passing, she scrambled to her feet, quickly dressing in the clothes she found laying in a heap beside her, and ran to her car without bothering to lock up. Her truck was undisturbed, though the instant she registered that fact she realized that Victoria could have easily tipped it over or flattened the tires to prevent her escape.

For some reason, Victoria was permitting her escape.

Bella revved the truck's engine, as if pumping it with her own adrenaline, and drove as fast as she could, making flitting glances down the seemingly never-ending tarmac strip and the suddenly formidable forest that encroached on both sides.

It wasn't until she'd parked in front of her own house that Bella felt some semblance of calm. As far as she could tell, Victoria hadn't followed her.

Suddenly, she remembered Charlie. She rushed into the house, fumbling with the locks, her heart dropping low in her chest when she didn't find him in the living room. "Dad?" she called. Bella started checking every room, despite fearing what she might discover. "Dad?" The word dragged itself out, carrying her fearful tone. Once she'd gone through the whole house, she grabbed her cell and rang Charlie. Could he have been called to the station?

"Please pick up, please pick up," she muttered.

As soon as she heard Charlie pick up and answer, she was overcome with relief. A sob escaped her tight throat.

Charlie, catching onto her fear, asked, "Bella, are you okay? Are you safe? Where are you?"

Bella backpedaled. "No, no. I'm fine. I'm home. I thought—when I didn't find you, I thought something had happened to you." Her voice broke on the last word.

Charlie spoke slowly, the way one does with a trauma victim, "Everything's okay, Bells. I'm fine. I'm sorry your party ended the way it did. Now—"

"What?"

"It's okay. I'm sorry I couldn't wait for you at home but I got called to the station. Your friends already came to inform us about the bear. They're alright. The ranger tells me that there's been other sightings out of town. The tracks are inconsistent with those of a bear, though just as big, so do me a favor and stay home. Don't go into the woods until we have this handled."

Bella remained silent, as she struggled to connect the significance of the bears with Victoria's appearance. Is it possible they'd mistaken Victoria for a bear? It couldn't be. Otherwise, there would've been mention of fiery red hair. Nothing was adding up. Almost instantly, she felt foolish. Of course, they aren't connected. The world isn't conspiring against you.

"Bella, you there?"

She cleared her throat, but her voice was still a whisper. "Yes, I'm here."

"Stay home, okay. I'll be back in a half hour. Don't worry about dinner. We'll go out to the diner. That sound good?"

"Yeah, okay," she murmured.

"Bye, kiddo."

Now that the adrenaline had passed, Bella felt weary. The endorphins had dissipated to reveal an agonizing headache pounding its way to the forefront as if it were a drum. Bella grabbed a couple of pain killers and washed them down with some water.

As much as she wanted to sleep, Bella forced herself to analyze what had happened over at the Cullen's house. Fact: She was attacked by Victoria. Fact: It was her fault Victoria's mate was dead. Fact: She was left alive; Victoria had not killed her. And this was where everything became confusing. Why did Victoria let her go? Why did she build up all this tension, knocking over the table and sniffing her clothes, only to disappear like a ghostly apparition?

Perhaps there was no explanation, as was often the case with the supernatural.

James had sought her out last spring despite the dangers of his beloved blood sport: incurring the wrath of a large coven, risking the exposure of vampires, and dividing his coven. His only purpose was to win at his own game. His wasn't a tale of vengeance or redemption. He was a vampire and he lived for the hunt. A predator, first and foremost. Victoria was his mate, which meant it was entirely plausible that she was just as vain and malevolent as James. Although she had a feeling that what Victoria desired above dinner-and-a-show was revenge for her lost love.

Bella gulped at the idea of Victoria seeking revenge on her. Of Victoria tracking her movements, teasing Bella of her presence, drawing out the suspense. Of Victoria slamming her fragile body into walls and crushing her bones until she was pulverized remains. Of biting her and forcing her to endure agonizing pain before ending her life. Or worse, killing someone she loved.

She wasn't sure if there was any way out of this. She couldn't go to the cops with this story, or anyone for that matter. They wouldn't believe her, and if they did, they were just as vulnerable as she was. Human prey.

No bullet, no blade, no wooden stake would work as defense. Except, there was something she could use, if Victoria got close again: Fire.

Bella scourged the closets and drawers for flammable aerosol spray cans and lighters. She shoved hairspray and a kitchen lighter into her backpack, in case Victoria came back to her while she was away from home. (A blowtorch would be better, but she didn't want to have to deal with Mike to get it.) Despite this measure, Bella felt ill-equipped to the task. The idea of harming another person, killing them, even if that someone was a vampire, was abhorrent to her.

Ashamed of her fear to defend herself, Bella crawled onto the center of her bed. She closed her eyes and succumbed to exhaustion and ibuprofen.

She did not notice Victoria perched on a tree branch outside her window, her clothes torn and dirty and her red hair in disarray. Nor could she tell that Victoria's emotions were just as tumultuous as her appearance. She wanted to kill Bella and be done with it, so she could continue to mourn her fallen mate. She wanted to drag out Bella's pain, break her psyche and her endearingly breakable body. But as she watched Bella's sleeping body, she realized she'd made one big mistake: She should have killed her the moment the Cullen's left. When she was at her most vulnerable and pathetic state. Because the truth was Victoria found herself growing attached to the human, the way a captor becomes fond of its victim and prolongs both their sufferings.

Victoria could envision how this would end. With Bella in chains in the Cullen's basement, thoroughly deprived and debased, begging for death, until she had no choice but to oblige, and holding the cold husk of Bella's naked body, grew resentful of the fact that Bella had gotten what she wanted while she remained doomed to an eternity of loneliness. Without game, without James, she was nothing. Such a terrible fate awaits me. God knows what'll become of me when everyone responsible is dead and I'm left on this earth none the better than this pathetic human girl, she lamented.

Her brooding ceased when she heard the cruiser pull up in front of the house, the wheels fitting right over the dirt tracks on the yard beside Bella's truck. She watched as Charlie walked up to the house. Listened as he put up his gun belt by the door and trudged up the stairs. Bella was still asleep, oblivious to their presence, curled on her side with blood smears under her nose and shoes caked in mud hanging off the bed.

From the window, she could see Charlie standing at the threshold of Bella's room, debating whether or not to wake her up. Some deep emotion crossed his face when he caught sight of the crusted blood, inflamed nose, and bruised eyes. He sat down on the edge of her bed, rubbing her calves with one stout hand. "Bells?"

Immediately, Bella stirred. Her eyes fluttered opened. Recollecting the past hours' events, or rather its flavor, she clasped her hand tightly around Charlie's.

At this sign of affection, Charlie was overcome with love and concern for his daughter. He stared into her drowsy raccoon eyes. Knowing how clumsy she was, Bella probably ran into a tree or tripped on uneven ground when running away from the black bear—wolves, if the other reported sightings and odd tracks were anything to go by—that had chased them out of the forest adjacent to the beach. Suddenly, he felt bad about the pressure he put on her to fix things with Jake.

In the silence, Bella reached for her nose, aware that Charlie's eyes hadn't left her face. Feeling around, she was glad she'd taken the pain killers. It made the pain bearable.

Charlie patted her leg. "You're nose doesn't look broken. But you definitely need some ice. I'll get you some ibuprofen."

Bella nodded. Once he reached downstairs, Bella plodded over to the shared bathroom and stared into the mirror with a grimace. She looked like shit. Her hair was a bird's nest. Her sallow, translucent skin was marred by blotches of purple and green. Her nose was swollen to almost twice its normal size. Not to mention her damp bra and underwear were making her skin itch. She quickly undressed and stepped into the shower, pulling the shower curtain closed behind her. When the shower-head turned on, Victoria decided it was time for more mischief. She climbed into Bella's bedroom through the window.

Sauntering over to the bathroom, Victoria caught a glimpse of Charlie fumbling around downstairs in the medicine cabinet. She couldn't help but think that Bella and Charlie were both coordinately-challenged. Like father, like daughter.

The bathroom was misty and warm from the hot shower, spreading Bella's scent throughout the small space. It made Victoria's mouth water with venom. Giving a fleeting glance at Bella's silhouette, she walked up to the bathroom sink and spied its contents. She picked up a purple hairbrush and daintily picked at the strands of brown hair trapped in the bristles.

She glanced at her own hair in the mirror. Turning around to lean back against the sink, she singled out Bella's shadow as she brushed her own hair. Bella was currently soaping up her small chest, having already taken care of her hair. She scrubbed up and down her thin legs before finishing up with a single brush between her legs, then she simply stood under the shower-head, enjoying the feel of warm water raining down on her clean skin.

What would she do, Victoria wondered, if I slipped into the shower with her? Would she have time enough to react before I slammed her into the tile wall? Would she break her head on the tub before I've had my fun? What would I do to her father if he came to investigate the loud sound and discovered Bella's limp body in my arms, her eyes glazed over with death?

Sensing that Bella was almost finished, Victoria untangled one final knot in her hair before setting it down beside the sink with a playful smirk. She made a swift retreat, taking one last whiff of Bella's decadent floral scent, intermingled with the strawberry-scented body wash permeating the air, and disappeared behind the forest wall.

Bella gingerly got out of the shower, drying off her body and hair. She dabbed her face with the towel to avoid prodding the swollen, bruised nose too harshly. Wrapping the towel around her body, she reached for her hairbrush but quickly did a double-take when she noticed the strands of crinkly red hair twisted under the prongs. Somehow, Victoria was getting into her house unnoticed. Her heart soared and collapsed as if it was a roller coaster.

She shrieked when she heard a knock at the bathroom door.

Charlie's voice was muffled through the door. "You okay in there?"

"Yeah, Dad. Be down in a minute." The words came out strained.

Bella waited until she could no longer hear his footsteps. Then she dressed in record time and raced down the stairs, taking her backpack down with her, the added weight of the aerosol can and lighter making her feel more secure. When she saw Charlie sitting on the couch, she sighed in relief.

She glanced around to make sure they were alone.

"I ordered pizza. Here," Charlie said, reaching for the glass of water and medicine resting on the coffee table.

Bella sat down on the other side of the couch and quickly downed the pills. Charlie handed her the ice pack, covered in a small towel, which Bella carefully placed on her face, resting her head on the armrest. "Thanks, Dad, she said with a nasally voice.

"Just don't go running into trees anymore."

"Huh?" she asked, perplexed about where he'd gotten that idea from. She took the ice pack off her face.

Charlie was watching her intently.

"That is how you hurt your nose, right? I mean, Jake didn't—he didn't do that to you, did he?"

"No, Dad! I really did run into a tree. You know me, I have two left feet. He—" Bella didn't finish. She had almost said Jacob would never do something like that to her. But memories of his angry outburst came unbidden to her mind in frightening clarity. Old Jacob would have never hurt her so viciously. He never would have grabbed a heavy motorcycle and thrown it across the garage with his bare hulk hands, endangering them both with his lack of restraint.

"Okay," Charlie replied, with a gruff voice. Whatever he saw in her face satisfied him.

After a brief moment of silence, neither knowing what to say to the other, he picked up the TV remote and turned on the sports channel. Bella pulled out random sheets of paper from her binder and pretended to do homework.

She wouldn't let him out of her sight for the rest of the afternoon. And when nightfall arrived, she pretended to be asleep on the couch, so that when Charlie retreated to his bedroom, she could guard the door. When she woke up at sunrise, drowsy from her restless sleep, she put one ear against his door. As soon as she heard his steady breathing, she drifted over to the kitchen and made breakfast.

Sunday passed by much as Saturday afternoon did, with Charlie watching TV and Bella leaning over her books.

When school resumed on Monday, Bella was so distracted by fear, she felt more unhinged by small-town obligations. While sharing lunch period outside with her friends, Bella failed to engage in conversation, which left Connor, Mike's closest friend after Tyler, feeling embarrassed when he asked her out to this year's spring dance. She was called on during Calculus, and she had no idea what topic they were covering, much less what the answer to the teacher's question was.

The rest of the week passed by in a similar fashion, with Bella too dazed and jumpy to carry a conversation or focus on a single task.

At work, she kept looking up whenever the Newton's storefront door opened, expecting to see a hooded figure and a glimpse of red hair. She could picture a gleaming white hand pick up a dagger from the shelf stocked with varied knives and stab Mike with it at the register, his blood spraying all over the counter. Although that could have been her own irritation calling forth such gruesome images. After spending the last few days imagining what she would do to Victoria, if only she weren't so indestructible, her thoughts had become increasingly violent.

Bella fervently wished her good vampires were here to protect her and the town. No, that wasn't true. What she truly wanted in that moment was to be a vampire. Someone who stood a chance against a formidable monster like Victoria.

Bella was also debating whether or not she should go back to the Cullen house. While she was afraid of confronting Victoria, the past week revealed that the suspense could be just as agonizing as an attack. She was vulnerable. Her scent was all across town, but each trail ultimately led to her house, to Charlie. There was no guarantee that Victoria would stop at her death. With herself gone, Victoria could go after Charlie, Renée, Phil, or her friends. An immortal being, there would be no end to her wrath, her bloodlust.

Still, as the days passed her by without any tangible danger, Bella became less resolved about doing anything. Maybe Victoria actually left, she considered.

All her bravado had left until she was as spineless as a jellyfish. And the sense of urgency had lulled to an uneasy calm, like the gentle tide of a river. The mindless chatter of her friends, the quiet meals with Charlie, the tediousness of homework, it all distracted her from the danger lurking around town, disguised under a hooded jacket.