Yes, I have angst. I hate it. But, it obviously needs an outlet. All flames acceptable. ~Tay

Disclaimer: Steph owns Twilight and domestic violence is no laughing matter.

Song:

He swept the damp brown hair from my forehead as the music pulsed around us, lights blazing multicolored swirling paths throughout the club. I struggled to choose an answer as fog rolled and curled everywhere, obscuring the magnitude of pressing bodies; bodies just like ours.

"I've never-"

"Shh," He shushed me easily, his eyes a hauntingly unnatural shade of lavender as they bore into mine. Several tendrils of blonde hair escaped his ponytail, but there wasn't a single bead of sweat to cause them to stick.

I tried to shake my head, to clear my thoughts, to peal my body back from his, but he was stronger.

"It'll be fine," was whispered into my ear as he sniffed my hair, just before his cool lips connected with the sweltering sweating flesh of my neck. He lapped and nipped until he made his way to my jaw, then my lips, pausing before pressing us more tightly together. "Did you know you smell divine?"

I swear I felt a growl rumble deep inside of his chest, but I couldn't be sure if it was the fading bass line of a musical jumble that would forever be our song.

Pain:

"You're hurting me," I whimpered out, writhing and jerking beneath his stone like grasp encasing my wrists. I lay there, prone, naked, scared; just like I was supposed to be.

"That's the point, isn't it?" he said before another smack ripped through my backside, causing me to shrill out once again. He hadn't broken the skin yet, but I'd never had a very high pain tolerance and that's something he's all about.

He loved to hurt me.

"Please!"

"Please what?" He rubbed his bare palm down my back and legs lazily. "Say it."

"Please," I tried again. "Please make love to me."

"Make love?" There's mirth in his voice. I've changed the script, but I'm tired of fucking. "As you wish."

And we made love, sweet and slow and gentle - well, as gentle as he could be; a complete contradiction to everything that he stood for and everything I wish he could be, always.

And when I woke up, he was there, for he first time since this all started. I sleepily stared into his eyes, smiling to myself.

"Hey, did you get contacts?" I blurted out because in my sleeping haze, I swear his eyes were supposed to be purplish blue, not...muddy brown? What color combinations made his eyes look like that?

"Yeah, I had to get brown because they ran out of the blue," he answered coolly before distracting me with kisses across my collarbone, stopping all thought processes of primary colors.

Reflection:

"You're looking kind of thin there, Bells," the concern was evident in my father's voice as we sat in our regular booth for our regular meals for our regular father daughter time.

"I'm fine." I turned my head to the side so that he wouldn't catch my eyes as I lied to him, again - a regular occurrence in the last four months.

"Hmph." He said more - I was sure of it - but I was distracted, catching the reflection of a sallow looking girl - all mousy brown hair and boring brown eyes and faded bruises along her neckline - staring back at me. Sadly, I knew she was me. Even worse, I knew this wouldn't be the half of what was to come.

"Why doesn't that boy of yours ever come out to eat with us? Seems down right disrespectful to me," he grumbles in between bites. "You sure you okay, Bells?" he asks when I don't defend myself or "my boy."

I honestly had no idea why he didn't come eat with me and my dad. I mean, I had asked him to come, but he's either not hungry, or busy. When I thought about it, I realized we never ate together. Maybe that's why I was so thin, I really hadn't been around food as much as I used to. Any time we were alone, things got...heated.

I sighed. "I said I'm fine," I said again, pulling up the collar of my shirt before tugging my sleeves down past my wrists to hide more evidence that I was anything but fine.

Change:

"I seriously don't even know who the fuck you are anymore, Bella! This guy just comes into your life and you become his little fuck toy? Is that what you are? I highly fucking doubt that that's what you wanted!" Her voice is loud and shrill.

She was completely incredulous, and she was completely right.

This was not what I had envisioned for myself when I first agreed to go home with the blonde-haired, lavender eyed stranger almost a year ago. He had swept me from my feet, figuratively and literally. He was strong and powerful and sexy and intimidating. He was everything.

I had had no idea what I was getting myself into.

"I-I... needed a... change," I answered her weakly, hearing the falsity in my own voice.

"Ha!" my best friend scoffed. "Well excuse me if I don't want to watch him kill you. Or should I say, you kill yourself, since you're letting him do this! Goodbye, Bella. Have a nice life. Or what's left of it, anyway." All of her steam had vanished by the end of her speech, her voice drifting smaller and more hurt as she continued to the front door.

The door locked as it closed, my pixie of a buddy on the other side because she could just walk away whenever she wanted. The only difference was that this time I wouldn't follow - couldn't follow - and this time she wouldn't come back; she couldn't come back.

Telephone Booth:

Rain streamed down the glass, fogging as my harsh pants echoed in the enclosed space.

"Nine-one-one, what's your emergency?"

"Please! You have to send somebody! It's only a matter of ti-" There's a crackling of lightening and the line goes dead.

"Shit!" I bang the phone against the receiver. "No, no, no, no!" I only had one chance to get away. He said if I ever tried to leave him, I'd die. It seemed like a joke at first - a screwed way of saying he'd kill me before I left him, but after the second failed attempt, and the week in the ER after a crazy accident...

I don't know how he did it, but every time I had tried to leave, something would happen to me, something unbelievable and strange, until I just stopped trying.

Thunder clapped monumentally as the door on the old telephone booth was ripped open. My breath leaves in a whoosh and I'm stunned still. I can't even make myself turn around to see his face.

"Jasper, I'm s-" I scream as my sentence is cut off by excruciating pain to my scalp. He pulled my hair out, I'm sure of it. It was new growth too.

"What did I tell you, Bella? Hmm?" His voice is surprisingly soft. I can't be fooled to think that he's a sweetheart anymore though. "Didn't you learn your lesson the last time? What is with you? Do you want to die out here?

"I want to keep you safe, dammit!" He roared out.

He always said stuff like that. I never understood it. The only dangerous thing out there was him, and it was too late for me now.

"Please, Jasper. Please." My voice was defeated. I didn't know what I wanted from him - to kill me, save me, make it all go away.

"You don't get it do you?" He spun me around and slammed my back against the shattered glass door. "There are predators out here! You smell far too captivating to be out here like-like...this!" He gestures to my favorite sweats and a once white - now see-through - plain t-shirt; the only things I own are literally the clothes on my back.

"What are you-" And that's when I noticed it, his contacts were out. "Jasper? What's...," I had no idea what to say to the slightly familiar man in front of me.

He simply sighed. "Isabella, my Bella, there is so much you don't understand." He squeezed his eyes tightly together before opening them and trapping me within their brilliantly bright red gaze.