author's note: ...and now back to your favorite sit-com, Rebecca's journey into insanity! All jokes aside, thank you for the lovely reviews!

My leg wouldn't stop shaking. I don't know why. Somehow I managed to get away from the body and the quarry, but not like a human being. I think I crawled back up, on my hands and knees in a sort of frenzy.

When I got to the trees I couldn't take it anymore. I think I screamed, and somehow it turned into a cough, the contents of my stomach coming up as I leaned against a dead tree, my head bowed to the ground.

For a moment I pretended. That this was not happening to me, but somebody else. Someone who maybe deserved it. But a glance down into the quarry was all it took to reaffirm that this was no dream, not even a nightmare.

The sky was getting brighter, the sun just coming up over the horizon. Red and purple hues in the sky, the tops of the trees still black and spider-like in the half-dark. And the body, the woman was looking up at the sky, the tint of her skin the same as the rocks and metal around her.

As I looked down at her, I sensed a familiar part of me ripped and tore. The same part that had kept me rational and sane throughout my life. It had been very small to begin with.

Now I wasn't sure if it was still there at all.

Somehow I made my way back to the apartment. It was early morning still, and I saw no one on my way there. There was a rough sketch in my head of what I should do next – call the police, pack my bag and leave the country. That was what my instincts were all screaming at me to do.

And maybe I would have done all those things if I wasn't me.

Instead I stopped halfway in the street and stared at the cobblestones at my feet – rough red skin and scratches on my legs still visible, as I crossed my arms. Tucked my head down and closed my eyes tightly, wavering on the spot like I was about to faint. When I opened my eyes I was looking through a curtain of my own hair – the red color of it passing over my eyes like a lens.

I turned on the spot and stared in the other direction as something consumed me. It wasn't the need to know, or even the need to prove that any of this was real – because some part of me already knew the answer to that. Why does a moth jump into the flame when it knows it will burn?

Don't.

As if someone was chasing me, I began to run.

I reached the wall shortly after. I didn't remember exactly where the switch was, but it did not take long before my hand found a dip in the wall, pushing it back. I heard a clicking sound, and then a door slid open slowly that had been hidden from view, made to look as part of the stone wall as possible. It was dark on the other side, and a flight of stairs that led down, down, down.

Without looking back, I stepped inside. I heard the door close behind me, but paid it no mind. I saw some light coming from the bottom of the stairs, so I did not trip or fall as I walked down.

It was somewhat of a surprise to me when I reached the bottom, and stepped into the place from my dreams. It was the same kind of balcony that overlooked the throne room. It was more brightly lit than I recalled, but just like in the dream, I was not alone down there.

There was no fire or screaming. It was just a small group of people, most of which I already knew.

"Helen?" I heard myself ask, my voice raspy, uncertain.

She was standing to the side, next to two other secretaries I recognized. It was the first time that she didn't greet me with a smile. Instead she was looking down, biting her lip like she had done something wrong.

Then someone in the cavernous room started clapping. It was coming from downstairs. I jogged over to the railing and looked down – and to my horror I discovered that the room below was filled with people. And they were smiling up at me, all of them. They were all so still, so much like statues – only their eyes their red eyes looked alive.

The one who was clapping was Aro.

"So you finally made it! I knew you would."

When I only stared and said nothing, he continued. Clasped his hands behind his back and paced back and forth in front of his throne. There was something….not right about his eyes. They were so hard, so angry.

"I know its hard, remembering the past. But you've been doing so well – you're almost there now." he continued in the same conversational, happy tone of voice.

"Almost where?" I whispered, hugging my arms and starting to back away. He was silent for a moment and simply stared at me with those eyes of his – and it was not the color for once that truly scared me.

His voice was completely flat, devoid of emotion as he turned to a man standing next to him.

"Bring her down."

I did not resist being led down to the room, since my legs were shaking so badly anyway. I kept turning my head, looking at the people all around me – who were whispering, smiling. They all had that pale white skin – all of them. The same red eyes as well. I was thinking cult and ritual sacrifice as I was being led up to the thrones. Was that my fate?

With the anger still left in me, I managed to face them all – despite the shaky mess that I still was. I hadn't stopped since I found the body last night. I had been awake for a long time now. I wondered if I would ever manage to.

But all those thoughts disappeared when I realized that Aro was standing barely two feet away from me, and I flinched as I met his gaze. He had never looked at me like that before. Like I was not a person at all, but something he could squash under his shoe if he wanted to.

Maybe it was the sleep deprivation, but I started speaking in italian to him. Maybe in strange hope that nobody in the room would follow our conversation.

"che cosa sta succedendo?" I asked, my voice very quiet. He blinked, and his face transformed from hard and scary to that version of him that I knew – when his eyes would go soft and fond, and his smile would actually look genuine. He stepped forward, bringing his hand up to my hair – but before he could touch me I retreated, reflexively. Like an animal that has been taught that affection always comes at a price of something worse.

Something hurt passed through his expression for a brief moment before he smiled again, but less genuine and more with his teeth. He turned around and walked back to his throne and sat down.

"I wasn't sure for a long time that you were actually her. But when I found you with that little music box, I knew." he said, his hands drumming along the arms of the throne playfully, methodically. Tears were welling up in my eyes without reason, and for no reason at all I felt ashamed. Cornered.

"I don't know what you are talking about." I gasped out.

"Think about it Rebecca. Why do you have so many headaches? Hmm? And all those strange dreams you've been having. What do you think they mean?" It was unfair of him to ask these things. Like it was some kind of test. Like it could be just that easy to answer them. Without meaning to I felt my legs give way as I slid down to the floor. Something big was going to happen and I wasn't ready to face it. It was catching up to me now and there was nowhere to run.

"But you said that it wasn't-that it wasn't-I can't do this. I can't." I hid my face in my hands. I heard fast foot steps and he was there, prying my hands away with a strength that felt unnatural, not human at all.

He is not human.

His face was so close but I felt little comfort, his hands covering my wrists that refused to stop shaking. He gently squeezed them as he talked, his voice calm, reasonable. But there was something else hidden behind all of this, this calm demeanor, everything about him that was cold – there was an urgency, something restless and beyond all patience.

"Yes. Yes you can. I know, it hurts but you have to do it."

I shook my head several times. But he was right – there was something there, something waiting for me – I only felt it when I was with him, but it was growing stronger and stronger. This feeling that I had known him before, this memory of myself but not myself at all. But it was too much, too much.

"I don't want to." I moaned, like a child who realizes she is being punished too late for it to stop. Even though my vision was blurry from tears, the fever in his eyes was still evident as he spoke, his voice deeper and almost hypnotic.

"Please Rebecca, you have to remember. Close your eyes, listen to my voice. I will tell you a story."

"What kind of story?"

"The kind that does not have a happy ending."