(A/N Hello, my angels and demons. I've come back, and contrary to popular belief, I'm not dead. I have been working on many projects all at once, that's all. Over a hundred math pages and an art project that depicts the word 'vampire' on it. All in all, a stressful thing to through when you like to lounge around all day like me. :)

I'm going to give you all a little Heaven Help Me trivia. I like to daydream. I daydream best when I'm listening to music and exercising. I run, dance, swing and jump on a trampoline. Well, one time during the summer of 2007, I was listening to a CD a friend had unknowingly left at my house and bouncing on the trampoline. The band's name was Thrice, in case you're interested. During one of the tracks, I happened to look out at the sunset, and I immediately got the image of a falling boy from the sky. I dismissed the image and pushed it aside. But it was always lurking.

At the time, I was a huge Harry Potter and Inuyasha fan. (Still am, in fact.) I only came across Twilight when I had read New Moon first. So it took me a while to want to put my idea of a cute angel falling into someone's pickup truck and the Twilight characters together.

Originally, I wanted the story to be called 1 800 Heaven, but it wouldn't let me put numbers in the title for some reason. :/ So Heaven Help Me was christened only as a second choice.

The irony of this thing is that the person making a story about angels and demons and the love of God isn't a Christian. Wow. Wasn't expecting that one, were you?

All questions shall be answered later on in the story. Don't message me and ask to get previews, or ask me about things I can't reveal yet. For this chapter ONLY, I will be answering all questions reviewers ask. This will end at 6:30 P.M. on the 23rd of February, 2008. No exceptions.)

My eyes grew taut as Lauren drew nearer to me. I tried to look unafraid and sure of myself; I placed my feet apart, bracing my body for any blows that it may take. I sincerely hoped that she couldn't hear my heart attempting to jump out of my chest, because that would give away my façade, and would probably cause me to end up as a smear on the wall.

"Whoa . . . you don't need to kill me," I suggested. "Not all people without souls are bad, right?" I inwardly cringed at the oxymoron. Could someone without a soul feel sympathy? I backed away, sliding past lockers to the next row. Lauren's red eyes never left me.

She smiled, and for the first time I noticed that she had amazingly sharp teeth. Like a wolf. "I'd say sorry, but I'm not. Orders are orders."

I almost halted. Almost, but the hungry gleam in her glowing irises made me speed up a little. "Who's ordering you to do this?"

I had an idea. If I could keep her talking and get to the door before she actually did anything, I'd be safe. But what could I say to hold her interest? I'd talk about her, since she had to be as conceited as normal. I turned a corner slowly, losing sight of Lauren. I could hear her feet where I left her, so I knew she was following. Scuff-scuff, scuff-scuff—her shoes made a scratchy sound when she dragged her feet along the linoleum. Scuff-scuff, scuff-scuff.

"I follow the Prince of Darkness, mortal. You don't know what you're dealing with." Her voice was a deep hiss. It scared the living hell out of me, because it seemed to be someone else's; a man's, actually.

"Satan, huh? Doesn't he have a little compassion? What does he want with me anyhow?" I demanded. The door was about two or three locker rows away. I kept going backwards, and listened for Lauren.

Scuff-scuff. "I wouldn't know. Servants and masters do not generally discuss any underlying reasoning behind the master's wishes, unless the master wishes to discuss it."

I marveled at her much improved vocabulary. When demons had better English skills then humans, that's when you know it's time to stop listening to the TV and read more. "Well, that sucks. What, he doesn't trust you enough to tell you what you're doing this for? I'd totally confide in you if you were working for me."

Scuff-scuff, scuff-scuff. "Really." Her voice sounded almost bored, skeptical. She didn't believe me, but then again I was lying.

I gulped. She was getting too uninterested in where this subject was heading. If I lost her now, I'd end up like Maggot the cat. I quietly backed up some more, heading towards the one exit. "Yeah, really. So, did everyone else sell their soul to him, or what?" Step, step.

Scuff-scuff. "No. I was the only one smart enough to think of the benefits. The rest of them are too cowardly. Master had them possessed by the finest Morte angels out there," she whispered proudly. Scuff-scuff.

Alright, I could see the door now. If I made a run for it, I might make it. Adrenaline pulsated in my veins, and I cleared my throat nervously. As soon as I got her talking, I'd escape. "So they don't have a say in it? It isn't actually them who hate me, it's the demons?"

SCUFF-SCUFF

I strangled a scream that threatened to burst out. She was in the next row, right next to me. I had thought that I had been moving away from her, but all this time while I had been talking, she had been using my voice as a beacon. A signal of fresh meat.

"They are angels, Bella. They don't have a say in what profession they were cursed with. They can't help it if they are what they are. They aren't demons. They are victims of circumstance." SCUFF

I moved hastily and silently in the other direction, scrambling to the next locker isle. The darkness crept over me, and I only had the sound of the rain and thunder for sounds to fill the echoing, hungry silence. There was a mirror behind me, unused for a while, judging by the amount of dust caked upon it. But apart from that, I had nothing but the tiled wall, another row of lockers, and myself.

Geez, talk about being in between a rock and a hard place.

My knees were shaking, I realized. I backed up to shrink into the shadows. Perhaps my black clothes wouldn't be a target mark for my torturers like they usually were.

Scuff-scuff. "Bellaaaah . . . come out, come out, where ever you are. . . ." She laughed, high and shrill and terrifying. I closed my eyes tightly. "Bellaaaah, I just want to play. . . ."

Right. She just wanted to play a game that could kill me. No way was I buying into that.

My backside brushed against the cold metal of the lockers. Something was in my back pocket. What had I put in there? I was sure that nothing was in there this morning.

"Bellaaaah . . . where are you, you little cockroach?" Scuff-scuff.

Tears started to form. She was in the row behind me, and coming closer and closer to my hiding place. God, was I going to die? Was I going to die in this filthy locker room? Still, I did feel a prickle of anger when she had called me a cockroach.

The thing in my back pocket had a point at the end. I found that out by nearly spearing myself in the rear with the mysterious object. Instead of gasping, like I had wanted to, I smiled. Suddenly, I was excited. After all, even soulless monsters couldn't survive getting stabbed, could they?

I dug into the pocket and clasped the thin yet hard object in my fingers. It had a pointed end, and it felt strangely like the letter 't'. There was a beaded chain from a small hole in the metal work.

SCUFF-SCUFF. "Bella. I know where you are. Don't bother hiding," Lauren warned. Her voice was harsh again, more masculine.

I whipped out the object—or rather, new weapon—and got ready to pounce. She was right next to the bend and would be appearing at any second. A single bead of sweat slid down the side of my cheek, and I focused all my strength towards my hand. I even tried to remember what slasher movies had the best technique in the art of self defense. All I came up with was the movie Halloween. And that chick had a broken clothes hanger to take his eye out, not some weird pointed thing she found randomly in her pocket.

"Found you." Lauren's head appeared suddenly around the bend. Her face was contorted and dead looking, with the predatory smile stretched upwards like a clown. But this was her real mouth. And those red, cat-like eyes glaring down at me were her real eyes.

I sprang up and plunged the weapon into her rib cage without a second thought. It was an impulse, really. Her eyes widened and bulged out. She staggered back, grasping at her chest wildly. Blood was pouring out, onto her hands and pooling onto the floor. It seemed almost black in the darkness.

Stabbing someone isn't like in the movies, I realized. You really have to work at it, put some force behind the blade or the stake that you're using. People don't just fall over, split in half, if you swing an axe at them. They just get hacked little by little, like a tree.

Well, I had put all my strength into that stab. And I guess it really showed, because Lauren was choking on her own blood now. She was on her knees, doubled over, puking out streams of dark red liquid.

I was just shocked. Not as shocked as Lauren was, but shocked enough. My hand was curled around the object I had used tightly, not willing to let go. My adrenaline had made my grip quite strong. My eyes darted down to my makeshift weapon.

I was holding a cross, the silver doused in blood. Even the feet of the figure of Jesus had blood from the toes to the knees. Someplace in my mind, the part that wasn't totally consumed with the scene of Lauren sobbing and clutching her fatal wounds, I wondered if killing someone with a holy figure would be sacrilegious. I'd have to ask Edward when I got out of this mess.

But how had I gotten a cross in my pocket? I didn't own this thing; it was too fancy, too intricate in metal design. It looked like something out of a museum. I observed it curiously as I headed towards the door.

I put my hand to the handle and looked over my shoulder, making sure that Lauren was still moaning on the linoleum about the injustice of it all, about dying to the hands of a lowly, plain cockroach. Any sympathy I may have had for her vanished. The bitch deserved what she got. I turned the handle to get out.

It was locked.

A chill swept over me. I was certain that the door had not been locked when I had gotten in here. And it could only be locked from the outside. This was bad, I realized. Very bad.

My suspicions were confirmed when Lauren started howling with laughter. Seriously—the girl was dying of blood loss after being stabbed, and she was laughing. Uneasy, I walked back to where I had left her.

Lauren was standing up, blond hair in perfect alignment, almost completely healed. The blood that she had been dripping onto the floor was nearly gone. The only indication that she was injured was the big, angry burn mark on her chest where I had speared her. She smiled widely, the creepy laughter coming from her increasing in height.

This was definitely an 'oh, shit' moment.

She chuckled darkly. "Did you honestly think," she cracked her neck loudly, "that you could kill me?" Her eyes glowed. She was angry.

I frowned, holding the cross close to me. "It was worth a shot."

"No, it wasn't," she snarled. The wind in the room picked up a little. Her hair was blowing, and I could hear the locker doors rattling.

"Stop throwing a tantrum," I said venomously. I had decided that anger was the key element here. A fight to the death was inevitable, but there was no way that I was going to show fear before I bit the dust.

"Stop throwing a tantrum!" she mimicked. She snorted loudly, then spat the phlegm off to the side.

"Ew," I commented. I wrinkled my nose. "That's disgusting."

"Yes. A perfect likeness of you."

I gawked at her. "Did you just call me snot?"

"Yes. Yes, I did."

I shook my head in disbelief. "Then you don't deserve the honor of killing me. I'd like to at least have a more civilized murderer."

She shrugged. I noticed the burn mark still scalded into her skin; it had gotten through her clothes. "Beggars can't be choosers."

"I'm not begging you to kill me, now am I?" I pointed out hopelessly.

She considered. "True. But too bad. It isn't going to change anything." She advanced a few steps.

I ran. I'll admit it, I ran. It was childish and stupid, and I had no clue where I was going to go off to if I ran away from her, but I took off like a startled fox from a hound. I heard her laughing. "Let the games begin."

Crap. I was back at the wall with the mirror. I was trapped. I waited grimly in the cold, dark silence, waiting to hear her shoes scuffle again. My back was turned to the mirror.

I heard her voice echo around the room, loud and amplified. I couldn't tell where it came from at all. "BELLA. YOU HAVEN'T SEEN ALL OF MY POWERS YET. DO YOU THINK THAT I'D ACTUALLY FALL FOR THE SAME THING TWICE?"

My eyes darted nervously to either side of me. It was clear on both sides. I even looked up at the top of the lockers. No one was standing there, let alone one blond demon in a skirt.

I felt tingles down my spine, though. It was the usual flesh crawling feeling of someone staring at me. She was watching me, I knew it. But where?

Wait a second. Tingles down my spine? If someone was staring at you and your back felt weird, that meant that. . . .

I turned around and faced the mirror, my blood running cold.

Lauren was staring out of it, her wolfish teeth smiling, and the crimson of her eyes blazing. "I TOLD YOU THAT YOU HAVEN'T SEEN ALL OF MY TRICKS, YET."

The mirror was only about the size of your average bathroom mirror, so I guess the effect was kind of ruined. But it was still creepy to see her standing there, next to me, while I knew that she wasn't standing next to me at all.

Her jaw unhinged. Literally. It just unhinged, like some humanized cobra, revealing a row of jagged fangs. Lauren laughed again, reveling in my horror.

I got an idea—it was vague, I didn't know if it would work, and I could get killed if I was wrong. But I was desperate. I didn't want to die today. I wanted to see Edward. But why is it that when I called his name, he hadn't come? I watched as Lauren's hands started sliding out of the mirror, grasping towards my throat. Did he hate me that much? Was that why he wouldn't tell me he loved me?

Lauren's head came out of the now liquid-like glass. Her nostrils were flared. "Got you."

Hold on; Edward didn't come because I hadn't said the words that brought him to me. Hell, even though I was so close to getting murdered, I still hadn't said it once. But still, maybe he had sensed something was wrong. With a burst of intuition I realized where the cross had come from. Edward must have sent it there with what limited magic he had. He really did love me.

Fueled with that knowledge, I smacked the cross onto Lauren's forehead. There was a loud hiss as the metal burned into her skin. She shrieked, and shrank back into the mirror. "The power of the Christ compels you, bitch!" I snarled.

Lauren went back all the way into the glass world she had put herself in. She held her hands up to her face, hiding her charred flesh. She was screaming in agony; it made my ears hurt. Carefully, I took off my boot, still holding the cross on the mirror, in case she decided to jump me while I was busy. She didn't; she was too busy clawing at her face, ripping off the dead skin.

I made sure I had a good grip on the boot before slamming it against the glass with the steel bottom. A crack formed with each time I pounded into it, growing bigger, wider and longer.

Lauren's eyes widened in terror. "Noooooooooo!" she screamed. She reached for the glass to escape, but was immediately burned when she touched it. A feral growl ripped through her chest when she spotted the cross. "DAMN YOU TO—"

The mirror shattered as I hit it with a strong blow, drowning out her words. As the shards hit the white and blue linoleum, I swear that I could still hear her shrieking. Except that it was fainter now, much less close. Eventually, the screams died away and left only the quiet humming of a radiator. The heat was working again.

The lights flickered back on. I blinked, dazed by the sudden burst of brightness, and looked around.

There were papers all over the place, spilt around from when Lauren had caused a sudden cold wind. The blood that she had coughed up had vanished mysteriously—just like Maggot the cat and any sign that she had been there. All that remained was the shattered mirror at my feet.

"Heaven help me," I whispered. I slumped against the tiled wall in exhaustion, surveying the scene unfolded before me. I ran my hand through my hair to calm my nerves.

What a way for the day to end. Nearly killed by a girl who sold her soul to the devil and then trapped her in a mirror world for all eternity. Johnny Christ. I shook my head in disbelief.

The door swung open, and I whipped my head around, which got me a crick in the neck. I rubbed it quickly and gave Edward a small smile. "Ow. You got here a little late, didn't you?"

Edward's intelligent green eyes took in the messy state of the room. I wondered what he was thinking when he saw me standing in a puddle of glass with a bloody cross in one hand and a combat boot in the other.

"What's been going on here?!" He demanded. He strode over to be cautiously, a crease on his forehead.

I tried to laugh, but I'm not sure if it was convincingly nonchalant. "The usual. Lauren just tried to kill me and I stabbed her with the cross. But the door was locked, and when I tried to confront her to make sure she was really dead, she was in the mirror. So I put the cross over her 'reflection' and broke it with my shoe."

He stood there gawking at me for a full minute.

"Why didn't you call for me sooner?"

I frowned. "I did. I screamed your name when Maggot the cat popped out of my locker to say hello. But you didn't come. I guess it isn't your fault, because the key words are 'help me,' right?"

"Yes . . . those are the only words that will let me know that you are in danger. Those are the only words that will tell me exactly where you are. I'm just so sorry that I wasn't able to get here faster." His face fell.

I took advantage of the moment and grabbed his hand. It was warm and gentle. And much bigger then mine. "So . . . was French interesting?"

He stiffened. His eyes hardened into a darker green and he shook his head. The crease on his forehead grew deeper.

"Edward; you aren't lying to me, are you?"

He shook his head again, but didn't say anything.

"Edward." I scowled. "I can tell when something's up. What's wrong?"

'I'm upset that I wasn't able to help you, even when you could have died," he said quietly. His gaze saddened, but there was still that crease.

"There's more," I said slowly, "more that you aren't telling me. What's wrong? Besides my demon slaying?"

He closed his eyes briefly. "There is a guidance angel here at the school. What's worse is that I think that he's Mike's angel. And when a Morte angel and a guidance angel team up, something horrible is bound to happen."

"Well, just talk to the guidance angel I'm sure he'd listen," I suggested, confused.

Edward opened his eyes again, a frustrated tinge to them now. Talk about mood swings. "I can't. The guidance angel, Jacob, and I never got along during our time in purgatory. He'd do the opposite of what I asked just because I asked him to."

"What a creep," I muttered. He raised his eyebrows. Way up. "Not you; him," I explained hastily. He relaxed a little.

Someplace in the hallway, a bell rang. I looked quickly at Edward. "Let's get out of here before we get in trouble for vandalizing school property."

"Good idea."

We ran from the locker room, hand in hand, through the hallway and to the parking lot. Some students stared at us as we ran past, others just tried to trip us. But Edward and I just laughed when we stepped on top of their outstretched feet, crushing their ankles with our heavy shoes. I'm pretty sure that a few teachers told us to stop running in the halls, but I didn't care. We ran until we reached the double exit doors, where we took a deep breath and adjusted our coats so we wouldn't get wet.

It was strange—I thought, as I hopped into my rusty red truck with my guardian angel, who was smiling so beautifully as we joked around—but even though I was almost killed today, I didn't mind so much. Even though I was being hunted down by the devil and his minions, even though I was going through a form of hell already, and even though I didn't have my mother, I was okay with it.

Because all of that just didn't matter when I was with the man I loved.

Edward caught me staring at him and gave me my favorite crooked smile. My heart raced. "What are you thinking?"

I smiled back. "That I love you."