25.

With everything that had happened in the last few minutes, I would have thought my ability to be surprised had disappeared. But I was, when Alice hunched over, gripping the coffee table and rocking her head from side to side.

"...Alice?" I called, touching her shoulder gently. "Are you... seeing something?"

"Char."

"I'm right here, Alice."

"Alice!" Jasper's voice whipped across the room, and suddenly he appeared behind her, uncurling her fingers from around the table. I saw slight cracks where she'd gripped the wood.

"What is it, Alice?" Jasper asked as he tucked her into his chest.

She turned slowly, though her eyes didn't meet my gaze, instead staring across the room. The expression in them was empty, and I knew what she had seen. Still, I had to ask, or they would know.

"What's wrong, Alice? What did you see?"

Jasper looked at me sharply. I kept my expression vacant and waited. His eyes were confused as they flickered swiftly between Alice's face and mine, feeling the chaos, though he obviously heard my neutral tone. Alice recovered herself, shaking her head.

"Nothing, really," she answered, her voice remarkably calm and convincing. "Just the same room as before." She finally looked at me, her expression smooth and withdrawn. "Did you want breakfast?"

"No, it's fine Alice. I'll just go shower, and then we can leave?"

Alice nodded, and I retreated to the bathroom. Almost as if I were borrowing Jasper's strange extra sense, I could feel Alice's wild– though well-concealed — desperation to have me out of the room, to be alone with Jasper. So she could tell him that they were doing something wrong, that they were going to fail…

I concentrated fully on getting ready, methodically going through the motions. I remembered what Edward had told me about Alice's visions, and thought of what I had observed. She hadn't seen James in Phoenix until he chose to come here. And she hadn't seen me at the studio until I chose that path, too. Now they would be watching me extra carefully... I would have to make last minute decisions, to find a way to escape at the moment when the opportunity occurred. Or else it would be impossible. So I couldn't possibly plan now. Instead I thought of the smell of the shampoo, the sensation of warm water against my back.

When we made it to the airport, I discovered that for the first time in many months, luck was on my side. Edward's flight would be coming in terminal 4, the largest, the most busy. I led them through the airport. They stood in front of the departing flights board for a long time while I stood by scuffing my shoes against the floor, scowling at everyone who passed. I heard them discussing the pros and cons of Chicago, New York, Atlanta. Places I'd never seen. Places I never would see. Because whether they liked it or not, I was going to be James' snack.

We sat in front of the long rows of metal detectors, Alice and Jasper watching every shift I made. I couldn't possibly just run. I wondered if they would dare to follow after me, to stop me physically in such a public place.

I watched the arrivals board, flight after flight coming in on time. The flight from Seattle, the one Edward was on, as Alice had told me, pointing it out, grew closer to the top. Then, when I had half an hour left to make my escape, the numbers changed. The flight was 15 minutes early.

"So, we'll be getting the first possible transfer flight?" I asked Jasper glumly.

"Yes, you'll be out of here very shortly."

"Is there time for food? I'm fucking starving."

Jasper nodded, tense and unsure. He looked at Alice. "I can go grab something," he said to her. Her head bobbed up and down, minutely. "What are you hungry for?"

I shrugged. "Anything, I dunno. Whatever's open."

Jasper disappeared with a final nod into the food court of the terminal.

We waited in silence for a minute before I turned to Alice. "Hey, can I go to the bathroom real quick?"

"Um, we should wait for Jasper."

I frowned. "Alice, you can come with, can't you? I mean, just wait outside the door."

I shifted impatiently to my other foot, knowing it would make it seem I really had to use the bathroom. She sighed and allowed me to lead her to the washrooms. I had gotten lost in the level three washroom once before– there were two exits, and if Alice stayed where I'd left her I'd never be within her line of sight. I broke into a run the second I was out the door, pushing people aside to get to the elevators.

I just barely squeezed into an already full elevator headed down, right as the door was closing. The others in the crowded space murmured in annoyed tones when I zipped out the second the door opened again. I slowed down only long enough to pass the security guards at a walking pace. Jasper and Alice had either already discovered I was missing, or would in just a few seconds. As I rushed out through the automatic doors my heart sank. There were no cabs in sight– but a shuttle to Hyatt hotel was just closing its doors.

"Wait!" I called to the driver.

"This is the shuttle to the Hyatt," he said confusedly.

"Yeah, that's where I'm going," I puffed, sinking into the first seat. I stared out the window as the curb and then the airport grew father away. I couldn't help but picture Edward there, standing at the curb where he would inevitably find the end of my scented trail, his face frustrated and harried as it had been on the doorstep of Charlie's home. But, I reminded myself, closing my eyes and pressing my face into the cool glass, he wouldn't look that way, since he now had reason then to care if I died.

Finally the shuttle reached its destination. My sudden burst of good luck held– a tired looking couple was just getting their last bag out of the trunk of a cab. I jumped out of the shuttle and slid into the seat behind the cabbie, quickly firing off my mother's address.

"I need to get there as soon as possible... like, now."

"That's in Scottsdale," he complained.

LOOK YOU STUPID FUCKING ASSHOLE–

I tossed four twenties over the seat. "Is that enough?"

"Sure, no problem," the cabbie said quickly.

I leaned back against the seat and forced myself to relax. I was almost there now. What was the sense in wasting energy on anxiety or panic? I guess there was none. I was going to die, and all the people I loved were going to live. I had nothing to be scared of– what could James do to me? Kill me? Eat me? That was fine.

I had been through worse.

I was suddenly reminded of a quote Ben liked to say, and it took a lot of effort to stop the hysterical laughter that bubbled up within me. Sleep, those little slices of death– how I loathe them. To quote Poe, he said, but I suspected he'd only learned it from the beginning of Nightmare on Elm Street 2.

It was true, I hated sleep– I couldn't stand the nightmares. But death, I was sure, would be much more peaceful.

A voice punctuated my thoughts. "Hey, what was the number again?"

"Fifty-eight twenty-one," I told him wearily, sitting up.

"Here we are then."

"Thanks," I whispered. I ran to the door, reaching up automatically to grab the key under the eave. It was like coming home in the middle of the night as I often had– the lights were off, the house silent. Normal.

I wished desperately for the normalcy this place had once represented– if I went to the end of the hall to my room, I could look out the window and across the tiny space between our house and the neighbour's... I could tape a sign to the glass pane for Ben, as I always did, and when I looked back later he would have his response taped up in his window. I could sit in the backyard and wait for Matt and Glen to show up, and we could tan in the sun before Ben came out to join us.

I could leave when I wanted because Renee had given up on controlling me, and tiptoe into the house as it was now, collapsing into my bed for days on end.

Except this time she wasn't lying down the hall in her own bed wondering when her wayward son would get home. She was frightened somewhere, depending on me. I switched the kitchen light on the way through the room– there, on the white board, was a ten digit number. I dialed with shaking fingers, and held the phone to my ear by pressing my head into my shoulder.

"Charles. Hello," he answered after one ring. "That was very quick. Well done."

"Is my mom alright?"

"Relax, I've no quarrel with your mother. Unless you didn't come alone, of course."

"Yeah, I'm fucking alone. Why would I want to drag anyone else into this?"

"Dear me, you sound stressed. Do you know the ballet studio near your home?"

"Yes, I know how to get there."

"Well then I'll see you very soon."

I hung up and rushed out into the baking heat. I stood, indecisive, on the sidewalk for the briefest of moments. I had a sudden image of a fate that was– well, better. Safer. I could go back inside, call... who? There was no one who could save me without my mother being risked. There was nothing I could do except go to slaughter.

"Well, look who it is," a voice somewhere beside me drawled.

I swayed where I stood, heart stuttering, head pounding. The one thing that could possibly stress me out further–

I turned to look at him, standing there in the sidewalk. I fucking hated everything about him. His face, that obnoxious grin. His hair, massive blond stripes in amongst his natural brown, like he'd had a skunk do his dye job... His posture, as if he deserved such swagger, as if he was fit to rule the world, though anyone with sense knew he wasn't– not fit to rule, not fit to live, in my opinion. His friends, nothing more than a group of slimy, disgusting toads, gathered behind him and snickering, their mouths in perpetual leers– just like they had that night. I hated the four of them almost as much as I hated him.

I instinctively wrapped my arms around my middle, as if– what? I could protect myself? He had already proven that I couldn't. I was useless. I couldn't defend myself from him– Glen talked a lot about how things 'weren't your fault' and other nonsense bullshit, but what it came down to was that I was the one who'd had too much to drink, I was the one stupid enough to stumble into a dark alley alone, and I was the one who hadn't stopped him when he knocked me down.

He stepped closer, and I told my feet to move. This– encounters with him on the street– had always been so much less frightening with massive, intimidating Matt by my side. "Swan, it's been so long. I'd thought you run away to Washington, like everyone said."

My feet ignored me.

My mouth, of course, was always working, even when my brain wasn't. "Don't fucking touch me, you creepy fucking bastard." My voice wasn't like my own, harsh and broken, as if I were changed into some hideous creature.

With a smirk, he reached his hand out to me in a slowly drawn out motion, pressing his fingertips just into my chest.

"Awh, Swan, didn't you miss me?"

His words came at me from a distance– I could barely hear for the buzzing like angry bees in my ears. I stared at the place below my neck where his fingers were making contact with my skin. His hand was touching me. His body was on me again. It was the most disgusting, horrible feeling I could imagine, seeing that connection where our bodies met. I shut my eyes, not wanting to see, not wanting to know that he was there in front of me. I would rather suffer anything than deal with him. I would rather jump off the grand canyon. I would rather be hit by a train. I would rather be fucking torn to pieces by an animal and eaten–

and there was the crux of it. I wasn't going to let him touch me ever again. Without opening my eyes, I turned and I ran. I ran as fast as I could, ignoring his calls behind me and the laughter of his friends. I ran with my feet pounding against the cement, a steady staccato rhythm that was strangely comforting, something I could concentrate on to keep out the memories that tried to flood my mind. I ran, out of the arms of one monster and into the arms of another.