Hiding places there are innumerable, escape is only one, but possibilities of escape, again, are as many as hiding places.
~Franz Kafka~
I have not yet begun to fight!
~John Paul Jones~
"He's in the garage!" Alice hisses. "So much for running!" With that, she begins cursing.
"Alice!" Esme and Carlisle both shout. They can obviously hear her language. Alice is now saying things that you rarely hear out of gangs, bars, biker groups, truck stops, street fights, robberies, Screamo music, and various other related things.
"Why not just say 'Baka' and get it over with?" I ask. She doesn't hear my question – well, she does, but she chooses to ignore it. I think she's categorizing what she says, though; right now she's calling the guy a pervert, to say the least. I can hear Renesmee laughing. Only she would laugh while facing death. Finally, I grab Alice's shoulders and cover her mouth.
"Alice, cussing out the guy in every language you know won't help anything." I hiss into her ear. She pauses, then suddenly sprints away to Renesmee's room, where I can hear her packing.
"Jasper, run!" she shouts from the other room. I run into the room and seize her arm, forcing her to stop packing. She spins around, glaring at me with her brilliant gold eyes, panic and fear widespread on her face.
I have never seen her that afraid.
"Alice, I looked for you for 90 years. There is no way I am leaving here today without you. You're the only one I've loved, and I'm going to do anything to protect you from this." I put my hands on her shoulders, trying to convey the meaning. She looks at me; indecision, fear, anger, pain, sadness, and worry all fill her eyes to the brim.
"Jasper…" her voice is the only thing I can hear. I pull her close to me, holding her in my arms, the only place I want her to be right now. She intertwines her fingers with mine, and we run downstairs. We meet up with everyone in the living room.
"He's in the garage." She, Edward, and Renesmee all say at once, their voices monotonous. Carlisle looks angry, for once. "He's looking at the cars, wondering when to go. He's thinking…it just went dark. No, the door opened. He's walking…he's going to go to the house!" the three say simultaneously, strangely monotonous albeit for the ending. Alice tears out of my grasp and runs upstairs, shouting about barricades.
"You guys leave!" She shouts as she gets to the top of the stairs. "Take the Jeep and drive up to Seattle. Find Jacob and leave Nessie there. I'll take care of this guy." She shouts. Nobody moves.
"Go!" she shouts, and her voice is such that everybody except me runs.
"Alice, I'm not leaving." I say, my voice taking on that strange monotone.
"Go, Jasper! I'm fine." She orders firmly, then runs into Renesmee's room. I stay still, unsure of what to do, and then I quietly run upstairs, freezing outside the door. Outside I hear the engines revving and the cars driving off. Knowing my family, they'll park at the very edge of the property…and another sound, the sound of a frantic heartbeat, harsh breathing, sending a flash burn through my throat…Alice's steady breathing…
I stand outside the door, which is open just a crack, and watch. Alice stands in front of the window, her feet spaced apart as if she's bracing for impact, hands curled into fists, the breeze from the open window blowing her already disarrayed hair around her face. Her breath remains steady, and I can feel the self-sacrifice in her emotions. The light from the sunset comes in through the window, streaming through the leaves outside, the light refracting once it reaches her skin and causing her to sparkle, the rays shattering off the invisible diamond facets in her skin, casting rainbows on the wall.
And then the rim-lit silhouette climbs through the window, holding a red canister. He is wearing a black business suit, his mouse-brown hair slicked back, looking as if he's going to a hospital to work as a doctor. Casually, he walks towards the nightstand and put the canister onto it.
"Patient number 57." He says in a cold, sharp bass voice with a hint of sarcasm. He looks at the canister as if it's a newborn child.
"You better thank me. This is going to save your life." He says in a mocking tone, then presses a button on the side of the canister and the air fills with the nauseatingly sweet scent of opium.
*~*~*
A/N: Gyaah. Cheesy Romance crap. I can't believe I wrote that.
You guys don't understand the meanings of "325 reviews" and "Story stats", do you? I was being dead serious when I said 325 reviews. And yet again, I don't care if it is a smiley face. Or better yet, just use the asterisks (*) as stars and rate me from 1 to 10, 10 being the best story you ever read. I'm serious. I need the criticism. You can flame me, you can cuss me out, you can shower me with praise – JUST REVIEW!
So anyway, I have decided to do something else - hold a contest or two for this story.
Check out my profile to see the contests.
Songs: Runaway – Linkin Park; Wish You Were Here – Incubus
