Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer

Premonition: anticipation of an event without conscious reason

Edward let her leave. He didn't want to fight anymore. Not with her. He'd fight with anyone – Alex, Jasper, Jacob, anyone – but not her. It was late and not safe for her to be walking out alone. He couldn't hold her back, he knew that to be true, so instead he followed behind her all the way to the penthouse, his stomach in knots at the realization that she was going back to him. He kept a safe distance so she'd never know he was there yet close enough to trail behind to make sure she was safe. He watched her back tremble and her hand brush at her face, most likely to wipe away tears, and at one point she stopped and vomited in the bushes. Once they'd reached the building together yet separately, Edward watched her walk inside and when she'd been swallowed alive, he laid against the cold stone wall and cried until he heard a car pull up. It was only when Edward saw Demetri step out and disappear into the building that he found the courage to walk away.

When Demetri entered the bedroom, to his surprise he found find Isabella in front of her dressing table like she'd never left, peeling off her clothes in slow motion.

"Where've you been?" he asked calmly, looking in from the doorway. She undid her boot laces, flinging them off the tips of her toes, without answering. Her mind was a swirling cavity. Perhaps she didn't even realize she was back.

"I ASKED you a question!" he bellowed. "Do you have any idea how much money you have lost me? I DEMAND an answer!"

"Not now. Please...not now..."

"Whose clothes are those?" he insisted, circling her like a panther.

It was obvious they were not her own. They were street clothes, worn and illfitting and Isabella would the live rest of her life in them if she could.

"You were with him, weren't you." He took her by the arm and roughly turning her around.

"Let me go," she said without feeling.

"Weren't you?" Demetri growled, increasing his grip and twisting Isabella's wrist inside his large powerful fist. He could break her in two without batting an eye.

"You're hurting me. Stoppit, Demetri. That hurts, stop..."

"Then tell me where you were."

"I won't..."

Without warning, Demetri released his grip on her wirst and back handed her across the face, sending her crashing against the wall and knocking the lamp off the dresser. He smirked as she laid out limply at his feet and they turned and walked out the door.

The next day, Isabella did not return to the studio. She couldn't bear to have Edward see her battered face. Edward showed up on time, however, and waited the entire length of the session for her to arrive, and when she didn't, he walked the route home that took him past Demetri's apartment.

He snuck in with ease; he'd had enough practice being in places where he didn't belong, and was just about to enter the bedroom without knocking when he was caught on the stairs...by Demetri. They faced off without a word and Edward could see past him into the bedroom, where Isabella was propped up in the king-sized bed, bandaged and black and blue, her cheekbone and eye puffy.

"How'd you get in here?" Demetri growled.

"You bastard! What did you do to her! I'll fucking kill you!" Edward screamed.

"Ha! you'll do no such thing. She came back to me that way, you vile dog. Maybe YOU did it to her."

"Never! I would never hurt her! EVER!" Edward charged him and Demetri motioned for guards that appeared out of the shadowd.

"Get rid of him," he ordered. "Anywhere."

Edward was tackled and sent to the ground, his arms tied painfully behind his back, a punch to the gut and one to the face rendering him useless to break free.

Isabella jumped from bed at the commotion and sound of Edward's voice; a voice she'd dreamt of hearing again. She stumbled out of the room into the hallway and threw herself in front of Edward's body.

"Foolish girl," Demetri spat. "Get back to bed."

"Let him go. He's done nothing to you. It was my decision to leave you and I've already suffered my punishment. Let him go."

Demetri flicked his eyes from Isabella to Edward, working his fists into balls again and again. Isabella started to worry as seconds passed with no response. Would Demetri order Edward killed and thrown in the river? She knew she would never survive that. She also knew she would never be strong enough to stop it.

Out of panic she blurted out something she could never take back.

"If you let him go now...I'll never see him again. I swear. We'll get a new pianist...anything you want. We can leave the country, I don't care. Just please...don't hurt him," she begged. "Please let him go."

Demetri contemplated this new development for several long moments, his fingers twisting his menacing moustache.

"You'll give me your word that you will never see him again."

"If you give me yours that you won't hurt him."

Demetri put an end to the tense stand off with a curt nod. Edward squeezed his eyes shut and let his head fall to Isabella's back where no one could see. He inhaled her scent just as Demetri mumbled, "Get him out of here. I expect him out of our lives in two minutes."

The guards released him and Demetri returned to the master bedroom without another word, leaving Isabella and Edward briefly alone in the hallway. Edward stepped towards her, staring at her cut lip and bruised cheekbone, the marks on her wrists and gash at her temple and he could see her shaking in front of him.

And the words came tumbling out. He didn't care that it sounded illogical. He just wanted to take her somewhere safe. Anywhere. His voice was a shaking desperate plea of a whisper.

"Come with me. Come back with me. Please you have to leave now. I'll take you anywhere you want to go just please come with me."

"You have to go," she answered dismissively, avoiding his stare. "If he comes back and finds you still here-."

"Did he do that to you?"

Edward reached a hand out to touch Isabella's face as if he could heal her with his fingertips but Isabella lurched away from his touch. It stung more than a boot to his gut, because it was something she had never ever done.

"Edward please. He'll-"

"I can't leave you here. I can't." He shook his head fiercely, but Isabella stepped back inside the bedroom and began closing the door. Her face was stained with tears.

"You don't love me...pretend you don't love me. Say it to yourself until you believe it."

With that the door clicked shut and Edward was once again set upon by Demetri's guards and repeatedly kicked in the stomach before being thrown out into the street. He laid there for a few moments, writhing in pain, holding his sides and rocking on the cold, hard concrete. As he stared up into the sky with tears steaming down his face, he saw a light coming from the top floor. The darkness cleared and he could make out Isabella's shadow looking down on him from the open window above. Edward managed to pull himself to his feet, still hunched over and holding his stomach and bruised ribs, coughing up blood and wiping it from the sides of his mouth. The thugs were watching from inside the lobby and he knew if he stood there much longer they'd be out again and this time the damage could be permanent. Edward began to slink away like a cat licking his wounds, but he couldn't take his eyes off the window above. This couldn't be it. This couldn't be the way it ended. It couldn't be the last time he ever saw her.

Taking a deep breath, which was more painful than he thought, and called out his answer to the sky and to his heaven.

"How can you ask me to do that? Would I have come if I didn't love you! Goddamit, Isabella! Would I? Would I have taken these blows if you weren't everything to me!"

The thugs pushed the door open and Edward took off running down the sidewalk toward his side of town.

"Edward, darling, wake up. Wake up, my love."

The darkness lifted and the angelic voice was growing louder and clearer, whispering its sweet melody in his ear.

"Open your beautiful eyes," it said.

He did and she appeared inside the cloudy haze of sleep and dreams. His Isabella. His everything.

"You," he whispered breathlessly as though he'd just been run out of town on a rail. "It's you."

"Of course it's me, silly. Who else would it be?" she smiled sweetly, brushing the sweaty pieces of hair from his damp forehead. "You were tossing and turning and moaning in your sleep just now. ...Something about me being everything to you?" Isabella blushed and tongued her bottom lip wantonly.

"Was I now?" Edward grinned sleepily. "Well," he stretched his long torso out under her delicate touch. "That sounds about right."

"What was your dream about?" she asked, laying her head on his chest and tracing her name on his skin.

"I don't remember," he lied, pulling her up his body and into a passion-filled kiss, a desperate attempt to distract her from the truth...the truth that he remembered it all too well.

yeah i know...a dream sequence? really? ugh. ;p