Author's note: Ahem, so serious trigger warnings for this chapter as it contains a lot of heavy, dark and disturbing stuff. Themes of rape and sexual assault are also present. I am giving you the next chapter right away, since I'm nice like that and because I had some spare time on my hands.

There was something so calm, so tranquil in this man's eyes. As if all that surrounded him was part of him, and he knew it – and expected it to stay like that forever.

Suddenly the bodyguard next to me grabbed me by the arm and I had no choice but to be led straight to the large throne the old man sat at. But with every step that brought me closer, the more I felt a growing terror. The crowd around us had grown quiet by this point, only faint whispers could be heard.

I refused to meet his eyes when I stood before him, waiting in silence as he regarded me with a strange smile on his face.

"So this is your failed little project, Aro." He said, then nodding to himself – and without warning, he reached out a thin hand and grabbed one of mine, his nails trailing upwards, inspecting my skin. His hands were so sure, so unwavering and quick – not like an old man at all. I swallowed and continued to look down.

"Yes, I do see why you tried so hard. She is a rare one, indeed. Centuries old blood in someone so young. I thank you for bringing her to me. " he continued, as he continued to touch my skin, the curls in my red hair. His voice was kind and sweet, almost like a suddenly his hands disappeared and he fell quiet. He tutted and the hand on my arm squeezed painfully.

There was movement in the corner of my eye from where the Volturi sat, but I didn't dare turn my head and look.

"Now is that polite? Look at me when I am talking to you, girl."

I finally did so, and I saw then that he was smiling in a knowing way that I didn't like. Like there was something inside me he could see that amused him greatly.

"So this is the one who aided the escape of another vampire? One who thoughtlessly released a monster like us on the world? Have you no shame?"

I kept my mouth shut, but my eyes could not lie.

"Do you know my name?" he asked, and I carefully shook my head no. He sighed and looked away, his eyes thoughtful.

"Not many mortals do. They talk about me in history books, mention my name without knowing the meaning, or who I really was. In Egypt, they wept when I went away. Though so many tragic things happened when I was there."

I made the mistake of turning my head to look. I don't know why, for I had no reason to do that. The vampires all regarded me with either contempt or bored disregard. They had no sympathy for human life, or as I had come to learn, any respect for it. The old man suddenly tutted at me, making me look back at him.

"Ah, so that is the root of the problem. Your disobedience has to be rectified, or else it will only grow with time. Now, kneel."

I was confused by this, but did as he said anyway – I could feel the hand of the bodyguard pressing me down, his hard and unrelenting hand never leaving my shoulder. Long nails tipped my chin upwards, as the old man looked deep into my eyes before drawing back and sighing with something like delight.

"Yes, your eyes carry the blood too. For you, there is no fear of it, is there? No. If you only knew how special that is. Yes, you are special. That is why we have to look elsewhere for your pain."

Then, slowly, so slowly, his hand moved from my chin, to the side of my cheek and stopped at my temple, a thumb pressed to my forehead. His eyes widened and he breathed out quickly, his face making an odd grimace – almost as if he was in pain.

But as soon as it had appeared it was gone, replaced by a small, hoarse laugh.

"So, that is your weakness? Well then, we can begin at last."

Those were the last words I registered before everything I knew would begin to change forever.

There was nothing at first, just his hand on my forehead and silence.

But then slowly, his hand seemed to float away – and even the whole room around us, until nobody remained but him and me. He was looking for something inside me.

And then, I could hear my fathers voice.

"There you are, sweetheart."

No.

"I was looking all over for you in the house."

His hand found my shoulder, then quickly but firmly dragged me out from under the bed. My hiding place. My small body was dragged along by his hands, even though I tried to struggle.

NO! I shook my head, refusing to believe it. It was not him, it was not real…

And yet, it was. I could feel his breath on my neck, the warmth from his body.

And it was happening again. I could feel his hands on me. He was here. I looked, and everywhere I looked I saw his face. His reddish beard and short-cropped hair, eyes that remained deaf to anything I said, to anything I tried to say. I twisted my arm away from him, trying to get away.

But he wouldn't let me go. He would never let me go. Nobody of them would. They were all there now – not only my father, but the other ones that had succeeded – the ones he allowed. Their hands held me down as my father loomed over me, stripping of my clothes piece by piece.

Such a pretty dress. He whispered inside my head, and I couldn't get it out. He was inside me now, pulling and tearing at everything that I was, everything that I am. Tearing it and tearing it while he sweated and sang his song of pleasure. My insided were ruined, blood trailing down my legs as they wouldn't stop.

They would not stop.

He took what he wanted from me as I cried and screamed. I felt my body bruising as I tried to get away, but I didn't care. Anything but this – anyone but them.

"Stop please stop!" I screamed, my voice ringing out, echoing around me.

But nothing stopped. Instead I felt something hot and wet in my mouth, and the hands still held me down as the next one entered me – and they all held his face. Bizarrely, he cried as he continued to destroy me from the inside. Tears that turned to acid on my skin.

Once again, I was clothed. But it was not over, as my clothes were again, and again ripped off – my breasts fondled and pushed, blood pouring out from under me.

He whispered unspeakable things in my ear, all the excuses and all the lies. I started to shake, my body unable to control itself. Still, I felt myself trying to push away – pushing at all the hands and bodies around me, writhing and waiting. Waiting for me. They knew where I was, no matter where I went. Digging between my legs, the wound tearing me in two.

I had to get away.I had to get away.I had to get away.

But wherever I turned, he was right there waiting.

When I realized this, I let out a scream that I did not even recognize as my own. It sounded too shrill, too young to be me.

"This is not me!" I yelled, to who I don't know. I stood there and shook my head, shook and shook. My hands over my eyes, I fell to the floor and continued shaking, my whole body convulsing as I could feel him coming for me again. Inside me, again. Inside me. Oh god, oh god.

"This is not me, this is not me…." I repeated, like a mantra.

"This is not me."

It's strange how memory works. Why we choose to find certain memories and keep close to them. Now there was only one ringing inside my head, over and over. I clung to it in this hell I was in, as if it could save me. Words I had never uttered in this lifetime came out of me, whispered and sometimes screamed. I spoke quickly, frantic.

Hear, and from punishment my soul absolve,

The punishment incurr'd by pristine guilt,

Thro' Lethe's darkness and terrene desire:

And if for long-extended years I'm doom'd

In these drear realms Heav'n's exile to remain,

Oh! grant me soon the necessary means

To gain that good which solitude confers

I closed my eyes briefly as I felt hands around my neck, squeezing. I tried hiding inside myself, against the floor. A tear rolled down my cheek.

And in the vestibule supreme survey,

Emerging from th' intelligible deep,

Beauty's transcendent, solitary Sun."