Hello again! Happy Easter (if you are Catholic, but if you aren't...then Happy Sunday!...or if you read this when it isn't Sunday...Happy day of the week!!) I've gotten some pretty amazing reviews that have really helped me with my writing: RealityBella, Mouse and Stupid Productions, princessjob, MrsJasperHale, CullenLove, and oddchild99. Thanks dudes...or dudettes (whatever :P) You guys make me right faster :) Onward with the chapter.

Oh, and I wanted to clarify something with this following line that was at the end of the last chapter. I completely agree that it might be just a little weird that Rosalie is biting Emmett on his hand, but she will also be biting him other places too. Alright, really... ONWARD :) 

Previously:

"Nice to meet you," I murmured, before taking his hand into my own too, and pressing my teeth into the palm of his hand.

Emmett POV

I was confused at the sudden turn of events. One moment I had dared to kiss my savior, and the next she was…biting my hand, her eyes seeming to darken violently. I hissed, the wound throbbing. Rosalie did not meet my wide eyes, frozen with fear, as she grasped my other hand, biting into the smooth palm. My hands felt numb, almost like a burn you do not feel immediately after it had happens. I flinched as the blonde angel leaned closer to me, her perfect nose inches from my chest. I pushed back in the sofa, wanting to disappear. What was going on? My heart throbbed angrily, working overtime to allow blood to all parts of my body. I did not even want to know how much I had lost. I felt woozy as I struggled to gain distance from Rosalie Hale. I wanted to run away, but at the same time I did not. My heavy lidded eyes moved slowly to the right and to the left, actually surveying the room that I was in for the first time since my short arrival. How much time had passed since I had been in the forest? Days? Hours?

My conscience was once again trying to help me remember someone. I wondered if I closed my eyes tightly, everything that pressed against the enclosure of my subconscious mind would fly back to me. But I feared that by closing my eyes, this would turn out to be some wicked bizarre dream. My dreams tended to fade in time, and I did not want to lose this image. The image of the beautiful angel, Rosalie Hale. In those few moments that I pondered everything around me, I became aware of the stunning brunette standing near the sofa, the blonde model shadowing her every move, and the cynical-looking oddly bronze-headed creature standing near me. His eyes tickled with faint amusement, annoyance, and doubt. Rosalie was easily the most beautiful, but the remainder of the crowd was also inhumanly beauty. They did not exactly resemble each other, but shared several characteristics. One was their cold-looking, deathly pale skin. I knew that they were cold because of the frigidness of Rosalie's hands upon my body. I started feeling dense heat in my hands, almost as if they were burning. This interrupted my observations, bringing my attention back to the matter at hand.

I did not know how, but I had forgotten Rosalie's proximity to my heaving chest. Something was wrong with these people. I should be obvious that they were all dangerous, and one of them was practically perched on top of me. I had some brief naughty thoughts of that aspect, which were interrupted by a vomiting-like sound that came from the bronze-headed boy behind me. I wondered if I stank. I was obviously not in the best condition. It was almost as if I was not in my own body, could not feel anything but the throbbing my burning hands. I wanted to be manly and stifle the yell that was building deep in my throat, but I would not threaten my manhood by letting these strangers know how much I was hurting.

Several things occurred in a matter of seconds. The brunette tucked her head into the blonde male's chest. The only other male behind me grasped my arms, yanking them out of Rosalie's grasp. Rosalie closed the distance between my chest and her lips, and for a moment, I thought she meant to kiss my chest. I was sadly and utterly mistaken. She bit me hard, and I felt her teeth tearing through what was left of my shirt, and through the skin. I was extremely shocked, but that was before I felt a terrible icy and burning combination that stormed through my veins. I yelled loudly, wondering why the angel was harming me. I struggled against the hands the held me, thinking that this was an easy challenge. I was strong, but in the back of my mind, a seed of doubt was sprouting. I was weak at this moment. I could barely think straight, how was I supposed to free myself by this boy that looked so much stronger than he actually was?

I had never once blinked, glaring at the angel. She had a torn expression on her face, her hand almost wanting to stroke my face. Tears pricked at my eyes, and as angry and frightened as I was at the moment, I did not want to cry. I could not help the yell that burst from my lips seconds later. The tears ran down my blood stained cheeks, and ran off my chin. My view suddenly was blocked, completely black. I realized that I had closed my eyes, in attempt to stifle the pain. It hurt so much, so hard, so fast, so crippling. I once again knew that there was something to be remembered, but I was giving in to the pain.

"He is faring quite well," someone muttered, calm.

"How the hell is anyone calm? I am dying. I am dying. Fire, fire," my mind responded. The only sounds that came from my mouth were yells, moans, cries.

"Emmett," a voice close to my ear sneered, "is wondering why 'the hell anyone is calm' around here. Rosalie, care to answer?"

There was only the sound of my yells and the…the wordless hiccupping and sobbing that came from somewhere around me. Who was crying? I recognized the sound anywhere.

"Emmett, Emmett, why won't you let me in?" she said.

Her eyes slid closed again, and she finally stopped crying. And I couldn't stand it anymore. Not anymore.

I gasped, trembling. What I had just remembered was almost all in black and white, the face of the speaker blurred. Who was she? I could hear the voice clear as a whistle in my mind, but I did not have the slightest idea as to who the voice belonged to. But one thing was true. Rosalie was crying. I knew this as I managed to pry my eyes open for a second before letting them close again. The image of Rosalie crying reminded me of someone, but I just couldn't remember. All I could remember was the bear, and the beauty.

Suddenly all I could picture was Rosalie crying, and it made me cry. I was such a softie on the inside.

His glasses were askew, his arm balled up into a fist, pressed on his chest. I felt my heart stop beating, and the ground slowly seemed to get closer and closer.

I yelled so loud this time, I could hear the yell echoing. I was remembering bits and pieces. Certain thoughts or things I saw triggered things for me. But nothing was blocking out the pain. The pain was scorching my lungs, making it hard to breathe. The pain was twisting my bones into dust, as hard as I tried to kick. I had a staggering heavy restraint holding my arms, and I could not budge a millimeter.

"If you want to be loved, Baby, you've got to love me too. If you want to be loved, baby, you've got to love me too," Rosalie whimpered, slowly stroking my shaking arm.

Something in me wanted her to keep singing, to keep singing! I had managed to open my eyes by now, and I was proud at how strong I was. I watched the angel, singing for me.

"Oh yeah' cause I ain't for…"

The tears seemed to dry, and the caked blood seemed to disappear. The skin became darker and softer. The dark green and yellow walls became a soft pink. And finally, the blonde hair became a startling red.

"no one-sided love affair," Gigi ended, throwing herself at my feet.

She giggled, her face sweaty and still beautiful.

"Gigi!" I yelled.

I remembered, I did!

After many minutes of yelling, I finally lost my voice. I wondered how it would feel to die right now. To truly die. I fell deeper and deeper into myself as I experienced the blonde angel fighting the red-headed one. Who would win?

I'm just a little depressed about the next chapter...I already know what I want to write about. Tell me what you thought, and be honest. I really like constructive criticism!