A/N: Chapter 2!

I want to thank everyone who read/reviewed/alerted and added this story to their favourite list. I honestly wasn't expecting the response I received. Thank you a million times over. I just hope you're not disappointed by this chapter.

Disclaimer: The only thing I own is this storyline. Everything else belongs to Stephenie Meyer.


Chapter Two: Questions

My heart was pounding, threatening to burst out of my chest. The hand that was over my mouth was tight, making it hard for me to breath. I tried to struggle to break free once again, but my mind was clouded, disorientated due to the lack of oxygen.

The hand was removed from my mouth, but before I had the chance to scream, everything went black.


For the first few seconds after I awoke, I thought everything was normal. But the moment I opened my eyes, I knew that it wasn't.

The room I was in held no light. It was almost as if the windows had been boarded up. The darkness scared me, and I tried to move and curl my legs against my body. But as I tried to move, I realised that my hands were tied together, and not only that, but were tied to the bed frame I was lying on.

I whimpered and my eyes filled with tears once again. The room was too silent, which meant that my attacker wasn't here. I was alone. I was tied up, and alone, with no chance of escape.

Where did he go? Why did he leave me here? Was he coming back? I wasn't sure what I preferred, either being left here alone in the dark, or being able to see, but with my attacker in the same room.

After choosing the former option, I realised that even though I couldn't see now, I would still be able to hear things. If and when he came back, it would be unlikely that he would sit in complete darkness, meaning that unless he blindfolded me, I would be able to see his face.

I shuddered at the thought of being blindfolded. Granted, it would be a lot like now, in that I wouldn't be able to see, but at least I knew that he wasn't in here with me. If I was blindfolded, then that would mean I wouldn't be able to see his next movement. What if he tried to hurt me? I wouldn't see it coming. I wouldn't be able to prepare myself for the pain.

I began crying harder and started pulling on the tie around my wrists, trying to free my hands. It was futile, but I kept pulling, feeling the material rubbing against my bare skin, irritating it.

"Why me?" I sobbed, choking on the tears. "Why did you have to take me?"

As the sobs wracked through me, I yanked my wrists down, knowing that I was going to dislocate, or break a bone quicker than getting free, and if I wasn't careful, I would probably cut into my skin, making it bleed.

"Come on," I half begged, half groaned as I pulled until it started to really hurt. I cried out when the pain got too much, and I let my arm fall limp against the bed. I was stuck here.

"Stop struggling."

My heart leapt into my throat as my whole body froze. I wanted to scream, but the fear within my chest was preventing me from doing anything. It wasn't just that he was here in the room with me, when moments ago, I was the only noise in the room. It was that his voice, the emotionless baritone, was something I had heard before.

Even after three years, I could still remember.

For the next minute that passed, the room was completely silent. I didn't dare breathe heavily because even that sounded too loud. With wide, scared eyes, I strained to hear him. But like before, the room was silent, he was silent. It was almost as if he was never here.

The moment that thought came into my mind, I began questioning myself. Had I really heard someone speak? But it wasn't just someone, it was him. Did I really hear him speak?

The back of my neck was aching softly. It was obviously where my attacker had hit me, knocking me unconscious. Maybe I was hallucinating. Maybe I was the only person in the room.

When I thought about it more, I began to wonder why he, of all people, and after three years of being absent, would be here again tonight. But before I could fully accept the idea of hallucinating hearing his voice, I heard a switch being flipped, and suddenly the room was illuminated with light.

My eyes felt as if they were burning from the sudden light, and I turned my head away instantly, closing my eyes to block the light out. I didn't move again, more out of fear of what I would see, rather than waiting for my eyes to adjust to the light.

I could almost hear my heart as it pounded rapidly in my chest. What was I going to see when I turned around? Would it really be him? Or would I find out that this was yet another figment of my imagination?

Even though it was less than a minute since the lights had been switched on, it still felt as if an hour had passed before I slowly started turning towards him. My eyes stung as I directed them towards the light.

But that pain was forgotten, everything was forgotten the moment I saw him.

My memories had not done justice to the real thing, and yet, he was exactly as I remembered him. His hair, the same shade of honey blond, was still wavy, and there were two stray curls hanging down into his eyes, just like always.

His eyes, too, were the same, and even though they were now a light golden colour, they were still, in some sense, as dark as ever. His brooding expression was familiar, and in that moment, he looked as if he had aged decades, yet not a single day, all at the same time.

I had to look away when I felt my mind and body being overwhelmed by his presence. As I did so, I released the breath I hadn't realised I was holding. But even so, I could still see him in my peripheral vision, and I could still see that he was staring at me.

My thoughts tumbled over each other as I tried to process the situation I had found myself in. Jasper was here, completely motionless, but here. The subsequent thought, was to wonder why he was here, and why the hell he was kidnapping me in the process. Forget that, why was he tying me up? What had I done to him to make him act like this with me now?

"Why did you tie me up?" My voice broke through the atmosphere in the room, and I inhaled quickly before returning my gaze to him. The tone in my voice surprised me. It wasn't confident, as such, but it was something close to it.

He gave me a long, hard stare, and I fought the urge to look away again. I thought he wasn't going to answer me, but then his eyes flickered towards my hands, and they stayed there as he answered.

"There was something I had to do, and I couldn't leave you here knowing that you could get away before I talked to you. You would have gone to the police, and my opportunity would be gone."

Only once he finished speaking did he meet my eye again. I nodded, knowing that there was something he wasn't telling me, but also knowing I wasn't going to ask him to expand on what he had said.

Instead, I whispered, "You could have untied me when you came back."

This time, he didn't answer me, but I could tell that he knew I was right just from the look on his face.

It went silent and I couldn't think of anything to break that silence. He'd said before that he wanted to talk to me, but what did he want to talk to me about? A part of me wanted to ask him, but there was a part of me, a more dominant part of me, that wanted to wait for him to approach the subject.

The silence stretched on, and I began wondering what he was waiting for. He just stood there staring at me, yet looking straight through me, all at once. The expression on his face made it look as if he was trying to work out a hard equation, just not being able to find the answer he was looking for.

"How are you not scared of me?" he asked, finally breaking the silence. For the briefest of moments, his expression was sad, tortured. But the stone cold mask was back in place a second later. It was as if he didn't want me to see what he was feeling, and so he was masking it.

"Why should I be scared of you?" I replied, mumbling, and answering his question with a question. Granted, I didn't feel completely at ease in his company, but I wasn't scared, I knew that much.

Instead of answering, he took a step towards me, and even though I wasn't scared of him, I still felt my body tense in preparation of whatever he was going to do.

"Because, Angela," he said, coming to stand directly next to me and reaching for the tie around my wrists. "I can kill you with a single flick of my hand."

As he spoke, he pulled the material apart, freeing my hands. His voice hadn't even faltered, or sounded strained as he did that, and I knew that what he was saying was true. He could kill me without even having to try.

"But you won't," I said as I sat up and rubbed the sore area on my wrists. I didn't want my response to sound like a question, yet as the words left my lips, it sounded as if I was asking for his reassurance.

"No, I won't," he said as he took a step away from me and went back to the spot he had been standing in before. "I could, but I made a promise that I would keep you alive."

I was unable to speak as he finished. He had made a promise to keep me alive? I exhaled quickly, in shock. It was in that moment that I realised he wasn't here for a visit, as absurd as that notion was in the first place, given the situation. No, this was serious, and what had happened three years ago was only the start.

But before I could question him on what he meant, and who he had made that promise to, he continued. "You have to tell me what you know about me and my family."

"I don't know anything," I answered immediately, not even thinking about it. It was a kneejerk reaction, something I couldn't help. Whenever I had been asked about the Cullens, I always told them that I didn't know anything. So now, even after three years, my response was still the same.

"You and I both know that is a lie," he said, staring at me intensely. I didn't answer him because I couldn't answer him. His gaze was too intense, and it literally made me hold my breath until I broke the stare.

"Why did you kidnap me?" I asked. Not only was I changing the subject, but I was letting out the question I had in my mind from the start. "You could have called my name, or…or…anything. Why did you have to be so…violent?"

"Violence is all I know." His response elicited a shudder from my body. His voice was cold and detached, and his reply had been automatic, he didn't even have to think about it. But what was most obvious, was that there was no hint of a lie in his voice. Violence was all he knew. I shuddered again, looking away.

It was silent, and I knew that I had to steer away from the fact that he was dangerous. But as I tried to change the direction of my thoughts, I was reminded of that day three years ago. I'd known he was dangerous then, but it seemed as if I was only truly realising it now.

If only I had gone home after seeing Bella, then maybe things would have been different for us all.

Then I remembered. Bella.

"Where's Bella?" He didn't answer, nor did he show any signs of even hearing me speak.

So I tried again. "Is she okay?"

When he still didn't answer, I knew that I wasn't going to get anything out of him regarding Bella and her whereabouts. Did that mean he didn't know where she was? Or did it mean that he just didn't want to tell me? There was a tiny voice in the back of my mind that told me the latter was most accurate.

"Why won't you answer my questions?" My voice was quiet and there was a hint of sadness that I wished wasn't there. But I couldn't help it. I wanted to find out if Bella was okay, after all these years of not knowing, and his continued silence was slightly unnerving.

"I ask you a question, and you do not answer," he began, and even though his voice was still a flat monotone, there was a tiniest hint of incredulity. "Yet you expect me to answer all of yours."

"I did answer you question," I mumbled, looking down at my lap.

"Yes, you did. But you lied," he shot back curtly. "But I wish that what you had said was true because it would make this so much easier for me."

My brow furrowed. What he said confused me. It was as if he was constantly talking in indecipherable riddles.

"What do you mean?" I asked, hoping he would answer my question properly this time.

But he didn't. "Just tell me what you know, and then this can be over."

I sighed, as once again, his response left me with more questions. What can be over if I answered? Regardless of whether or not I knew why he needed my answer so badly, I knew that I could tell him right now. But I also knew that once I told him, he would leave, and I didn't want that. I didn't want him to leave, not yet.

"I told you, I don't know anything," I answered, not looking him in the eye. "A lot has happened since then…I forgot things. I don't remember anymore."

The lies poured out of my lips one after another, and it was obvious that I was lying. There wasn't a chance in hell that I had forgotten that day. Sure, a lot had happened, but not enough to make me forget.

"Who did you tell?" he asked, not bothering to call me out on my lie again. He sounded angrier now, as if my lack of truthful responses was getting on his nerves.

"I didn't tell anyone," I answered immediately, honestly.

He nodded, looking towards the door. "I believe you."

He seemed to take a deep breath then, and he grimaced as he did so.

"Who will notice that you are missing tonight?" he asked, his question taking me by surprise. I looked away, not wanting him to see the answer on my face straight away. I wanted to tell him that there as someone at home waiting for me. But he knew when I was lying, so what was the point of lying about this? It would make me look pathetic, and even though he probably didn't care, I still didn't want that.

"Nobody," I whispered, feeling my eyes fill with tears. I was alone, and his question reminded me of that fact. Nobody would notice that I was missing, except Aurora, of course. But what was Aurora going to do? Nothing. It would have been days before anyone noticed that I was missing.

"Then you will stay here for the rest of the night," he said. There was nothing in his tone that told me he noticed my sudden unhappiness. "When you wake up, you'll leave this room and will go home. You won't tell anyone about what happened here tonight. When you leave, there will be no need to return the key to the main desk as you can leave the door unlocked."

I nodded, even though he clearly did not need a response. "Will you be here when I wake up?"

For once, my question caught him off guard, and I saw a different emotion in his eyes, it was indecipherable, but it was different from the dark look that usually filled them.

"I'm not staying," he told me, his voice taking on a monotonous inflection once again.

The moment his words reached my ears, the panic set into my chest. I knew already in the back of my mind, that he wasn't going to stay here, but to hear him say it, made me panic. I didn't want to be left here alone.

"You're leaving me here?" I whispered. It was evident in my voice that I was scared, and I hated that it was so obvious.

He nodded curtly. "I have to."

I felt the rims of my eyes burn with tears once again as he turned away from my and went towards the light switch. I stared at him, taking in every last detail I could before he flipped the switch, and I was submerged into darkness once again.

In a twisted sense, I was more scared now, than what I had been when I had woken up. The tears spilled over and trickled down my cheeks as I pulled my knees up to my chest.

"Please," I sobbed, not trying to hide the fact that I was scared anymore. "Please don't leave me here alone." Stay with me.

My response was silence, and I was certain that he was already gone. I sunk back onto the pillow, curled my body into a ball, and then filled the silence with me tears.


A/N: So, what did you think? It was indeed Jasper that grabbed her. I know that Jasper shouldn't have tied her up, but he had to hunt (which was what he had to do). If you're wondering why he didn't do that before, then you have to understand that Angela makes Jasper thirsty. Angela isn't his singer, but after being in contact with her blood three years ago, it's harder for Jasper to be around her.

I've written a lot of Jasper centric stories/one-shots, but this one is by far the darkest Jasper I've ever written.