Author's note: This is a reworking of a one-shot I wrote when I was sixteen, immediately after finishing the first Twilight book (before any of the sequels had been published). Fifteen years passed since then, and in fit of Marie-Kondo tidying (do these files spark joy?) I stumbled on the original .docx and decided to see if my story had ever been read. I was totally floored — my little one-shot had 20,000 views! Thank you. Please leave reviews?! I'm trying to become a better writer.

.

.

Grounding Techniques

"Now, I have another little show for you to watch."

James grinned darkly from across the unlit dance studio, broken mirrors reflecting his crouched form from every angle. A wide moonbeam sliced across the room from a high window, contorting his features eerily.

A perfect predator, I thought. Crouching gleefully over its kill.

I tried to hold on to consciousness and stay upright, but felt my body slip further sideways against the wall towards the floor. My head felt so heavy.

My eyes refocused on the limp figures in the shadows behind him and my chest constricted painfully. It had only taken seconds, just moments. A tiny fraction of their lives...

Blackness swirled in my vision.

"Do stay awake, girl," James bit out, jarring me back into consciousness. "Don't you think he at least deserves your audience?"

James locked his eyes to mine and reached slowly, deliberately, towards the form at his feet. My eyes left his face to follow his hand, transfixed.

"An arm first, you agree?" he asked conversationally, his teeth flashing in the moonlight. "He won't be needing it."

My breath seized.

No…no, no, no, I thought, my voice not cooperating. Please, please let it be me instead — take me first, someone might come for him by then —

James broke hold on my eyes to look down at the body on the floor, still as stone. Suddenly, he wrenched his hand faster than I could track with my eyes, and a sick, wet, thud reverberated against the wall behind him.

The world tipped sideways and I felt as if the air had been crushed from my lungs. Another nauseating wave of adrenaline crashed through me. My senses rocketed in response - there was an immediate, intense awareness of the sharp bone in my thigh as it grated unnaturally against itself, the heavy lead of my limbs that had collapsed under me, the rough texture of the floor now pressed against my cheek.

I watched, mesmerized, unable to breathe, as a gleaming pool of crimson seeped dreamily toward me from the figure. The color was unexpectedly beautiful against the taupe ballet floor.

My jaw spasmed. I tasted bile in my throat.

Shards of glass crunched under James's feet as he stood to assess his work.

"Now the other? Or... no, we should try a different piece... perhaps from the knee?"

He paused and gazed down contemplatively, as if he were a painter deciding the next stroke. My chest ached with the pounding of my heart.

There was another sickening crack —

... ... ...

I shot awake with the force of my own gasp.

I was in my bed, I realized, curled towards the wall in the dark of my bedroom. I exhaled and a deep, electric anxiety moved from my core down my limbs in an instant, sending my hairs standing on end. My stomach twisted with nausea. Quickly, I drew in another breath, alarmed at how ineffective it felt — there wasn't enough air, something was wrong —

Can you suffocate if you are still breathing? I wondered, panicked. Shadows danced on the wall, the moonlight twisting through late spring rain. The studio flashed again in my mind's eye, lanced by rays of blue light reflected from hundreds of shards of mirror.

A cool hand settled on my arm, and I jerked at the touch. "Bella. Bella, shh… It was a nightmare. You're alright. You're at home."

Edward. Back from hunting.

Instead of calming, my pulse quickened at his presence and another wave of adrenaline pulsed through me. The soft pop of his arm separating from his body played again in my mind, unbidden and intrusive. I gasped again, clenching fistfuls of sheets, but I couldn't seem to get enough oxygen. Don't think of it, block it out. I'd had nightmares about being hunted recently, but not so vivid as this...

I felt the bed shift as Edward settled onto the mattress and curled himself against my back. My heart hammered. Catch your breath. Think of... breakfast. School. Homework. Anything else. Unrestrained by my efforts, the rest of my dream flowed through my mind with its heavy grief. Renée, Charlie... James had captured them. They'd died, terribly. My mother's terrified face drifted back into my vision and I groaned at the grip of nausea that followed.

A gentle hand smoothed the hair away from my face and settled back on my arm.

And Edward... That was the future James had intended for Edward. My heart skipped. This could have been the outcome. And I had sprung the trap that was set for him.

He could have died. They all could have. The scene flashed in my mind again, replaying itself on a loop.

I clamped down a spasm in my throat before it could become a sob and squeezed my eyes tight, my chest heaving. The air felt empty and useless, rushing in and out of me without effect.

"Shh…" Edward's hand swept down my arm and back up again. Instead of soothing me, his touch intensified the deep, frenzy of dread – a beautiful, crimson pool, gently swelling along the dance floor towards me, blank, empty eyes pointing directly into mine —

"No..." I groaned, pulling my arm out from under his touch. I curled myself up as far as my stiff leg would allow.

"Bella. You are going to hyperventilate," I heard Edward say carefully. His forehead rested against the back of my head. He paused for a long moment. Listening.

"I think you are hyperventilating."

I'm suffocating, I thought, panting for breath like I'd been running the mile sprint in PE.

"I'll make you breathe into a paper bag if you can't calm down," he warned in a playful tone, but I could hear the worry creeping around the edges of his voice. I would calm down if I could just get enough air for one moment, I wanted to say, but all I managed was a startling sound that didn't turn into words.

Edward reached from behind me to grip my hands. I tried to shake him off again, but my limbs weren't following my directions. I watched with confusion as Edward gently pried my hands open, finger by finger, and I dimly realized they had cramped closed on the sheets after I grabbed them. I couldn't have let go if I wanted to.

I can calm down, I thought wildly as my heart continued to race in my chest. I just need to catch my breath first.

"Isabella, talk to me. Talking will help." He worked his fingers against my palm, gently massaging the muscles that had involuntarily tightened.

Think of other things, think of something else, I advised myself somewhat rationally as I tried to block out his voice, the voice I'd just heard so clearly in the ballet studio... before...

You just need to breath enough and think of something else. Think about this nice wall in front of you. It holds up the house! How nice of it, keeping the rain out. Think about your nice bed. Think about Edward's nice arms holding you. But don't think... don't think about his arm...

His twisted torso swam back into my mind, the soft, swift sound of separating joints and sinew —

My vision spun.

"Bella."

Suddenly I was on my back, sheet cast aside, with Edward's right hand covering my mouth, his left pinning my wrists above my head. The room continued to rotate grossly.

I instinctively tried to pull another breath only to find myself restricted — dying, you're dying, you'll die —

Desperate with white panic, I tried to wrench myself out from under him, but his legs pinned me in place on either side of my thighs, solid as concrete.

"Stop," Edward commanded, clenching my wrists gently. "Look at me."

His amber eyes were just inches from mine, encompassing and luminescent in my dark bedroom.

"You're have to breathe through your nose. Slowly." Edward's eyes bored into mine, unrelenting. I took in an agonizing breath as he ordered — not out of cooperation, but because there was no other option. The pressure of his hands increased almost imperceptibly, as if to remind me to slow my pace. I felt my hands cramp back into useless, crumpled fists.

Edward looked nearly as miserable as I felt, I realized. You're not suffocating, I tried to reassure myself, fighting against the wild, feral urge to fight, to flee. I clenched my eyes shut, feeling hot tears slide down my temples into my hair. The room swayed uneasily behind my lids.

"Oh, Bella…" Edward leaned forward and rested his cool lips against my forehead, pausing there as he listened to my ragged breathing. I focused my mind on the feeling, a center point in the universe.

"You're okay," he whispered. He lowered his head to rest his cheek against the side of my neck, leaving his hand over my mouth. "You're doing okay."

The minutes passed in silence as Edward lay over me, pinning me in place. I focused on the feel of his hands on my wrists, the chill of his cheek against the throbbing pulse in my throat. I steadied my breathing, willing my heart rate to return to normal, my hands to unclench. I listened to the rain tap insistently on the windowpanes. The weight of his chest against mine was a comforting pressure, somehow managing to not aggravate my still healing ribs.

Eventually, Edward shifted and his lips returned to my forehead, cool and gentle. He hummed quietly, then slowly, reverently kissed each of my eyebrows. Warily, and feeling ashamed, I opened my eyes to Edward's heartbreaking half-grin. I tried to send what I hoped was a reassuring smile back from behind his hand and his eyes lit up. He placed a kiss on the tip of my nose before gingerly removing his hand from my mouth. Carefully, unhurriedly, he pressed his lips against mine.

"I'm sorry Bella," he murmured against my mouth. "I know that was awful." His sweet breath ghosted over my lips. His kisses were slow, languid — deeper than he usually allowed. "You're okay," he soothed, sliding the hand that had covered my mouth behind my head to tangle in my hair, cradling my head upwards to capture my lips again. I urged upwards against him, sliding my tongue along his bottom lip. Edward lingered for a moment longer before his weight shifted and he grazed his lips along my jaw to the pulse of my neck, kissing a feathered line towards my shoulder. A small moan escaped me as he reached my collarbone, exposed by the thin tank-top I'd worn to bed. I flushed at the involuntary sound, my heart racing for a new reason. He was so real, his body so close. And not in pieces.

Every spot he kissed sparked my nerves like electricity. His lips were warm against the low hollow of my neck, pausing over my pulse again before he moved back up and along my jaw.

That's from me, I thought. They're warm from me. His lips touched the corner of my mouth and I turned my head to catch them with my own, grazing my teeth against his bottom lip. My hips pressed up against his as I tried vainly to reposition myself, still trapped in his iron leg-hold.

"Ah, too much, too much," he groaned raggedly, suddenly pulling away so that his weight was no longer pressing me into the bed. His pupils were blown wide, black as night, surrounded by a thin golden iris. I pressed my wrists upwards against his restraining hand, wanting to wrap them around his shoulders and bring him back down. He shook his head.

"I tried for too much, I can't... Just a second." Edward rested his forehead against mine for a long minute, perfectly still. He pulled back to stare into my eyes as if he could divine my thoughts through sheer willpower.

"Tell me about it. Tell me what happened in your dream."

I shook my head. I didn't want to think about it, but at Edward's suggestion the images flashed through my mind, intrusive and just as unbridled as in my sleep. Charlie... my mind had roped Charlie in somehow, brought him to Arizona. James had gotten him. He'd still thought I hated Forks, that I wanted to leave him... and he'd died with those thoughts. And Renée... My stomach turned sour again as my thoughts raced through her death, playing it all in an instant.

I opened my eyes to see Edward looking down at me, his brows knit in concern.

He's safe.

My mind slowed back down.

"Will you tell me, please?" Edward whispered, his voice rough and unwound.

He finally released my wrists from his grip to lay on his side next to me. I flexed my fingers experimentally. He draped his arm over my stomach and tucked his face in the crook of my shoulder, no doubt as some form of self punishment for going overboard kissing me. Nothing like struggling against temptation to punish yourself for struggling against temptation. I leaned into him anyway, the cool of his skin comforting, and tangled my fingers in his hair.

"I..." I paused. My voiced sounded hoarse. I frowned, noticing my throat hurt as well. "What time is it?" I found myself asking, instead.

"Almost three."

I lay quietly for a moment, trying to work some moisture back into my mouth. I felt a vague, lingering nausea from the flood of adrenaline, though the immobilizing fear had almost fully waned. "Um... can you get me a glass of water? I don't feel good."

"I didn't think you would. You feel too hot..." He inhaled deeply, his nose grazing a spot just under my ear. "And your scent is a little funny."

His arm lingered around my waist for a moment, and then he was gone. I sat up and watched the sheets of rain coming down for what felt like only a moment before he was back, the water barely disturbed despite his speed. Edward waited patiently for me to drink, and then took the glass to set it down on my desk.

"You were about to tell me about this dream," he stated as he slunk under the sheet to me. He pulled me back down to our previous position, tucking himself against my side with his arm draped over me. His thumb made soothing circles over the spot where my ribs had shattered two months ago.

I took a moment to compose myself, staring at the ceiling. It was just a dream.

"I'm afraid if I say it out loud, I won't be able to forget it," I confessed.

"Do you think you will be able to forget it if you don't say it out loud?" Edward countered, his voice soft.

"...No."

I paused again, choosing my words. "It was back... with James."

"Of course," he breathed into my hair. I turned my head slightly and saw he had closed his eyes.

"We... we were at the dance studio. It was dark, though, the middle of the night. Only... he'd really had my mom. And Charlie. And... he made me watch. I couldn't do anything about it and they looked right at me while they died, both of them. And then you came... but you were too late for them, and he taunted you, and – "

I took a breath and shut my eyes, focusing on the weight of Edward beside me. I tried to not pay attention to what I was saying. "But it was just you – no Alice or Carlisle or Jasper or Emmett. And James, he –" My throat stuck as I tried to say the words. Edward's arm tightened around my waist.

"It's alright. You're safe," he hummed. "It wasn't real. James isn't around."

"No! That's not the point!" I hissed quietly, suddenly very aware that Charlie was asleep somewhere in the house. "The point was that he got you, so it's alright now because you're safe. It wouldn't have been as bad if I didn't have to watch that happen to you, if he just killed me off, but no! Remember... remember –"

Edward was silent, waiting.

"Remember when you told me the only way a vampire can be killed?"

"Sure."

"He..." I faltered.

"Oh. I died?"

"I think," I joked, bringing my free hand up to tousle my hair, self-conscious, "I may have seen too many horror movies in my life. It was... visceral."

"Hm."

I breathed out, trying to relax my shoulders. I let my arm fall lamely by my side and tapped the end of my thumb to the tip of each finger. One, two, three, four – yep, hand works again.

The silence lengthened. The rain had slowed slightly in its pattering against the side of the house. I closed my eyes and taped my fingers again – one, two, three, four, three, two, one, two, three, four. A dentist taught me that, I remembered bizarrely. Tap your fingers and count them back and forth – it will help to keep you from focusing on your teeth.

"So, what happened?" Edward asked into my hair, not moving.

"What?"

"What happened in the dream?"

"Um, this is the part I didn't want to say out loud in case it gets burned into my mind for all eternity."

Edward laughed musically and kissed my cheek. I could feel his smile. I pulled away, indignant. "Hey, not fair! Not a fair thing to laugh at!"

"I was laughing at how determined you are to spend an eternity wandering the earth lusting for blood." He raised his eyebrows a few times for dramatic effect.

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

"So, what happened?" he persisted, mercifully dropping the subject of my eternal fate.

"He umm..." I searched for words. My brain felt full of fog.

"He managed to break your...back? Your neck? Something that was important for continuing to move your body. I was... I was on the floor, against the wall where you and Alice and Carlisle found me... I swear, it felt so real. I could feel the blood in my hair. This is so weird, but I could feel texture of the floor. I could feel the break in my leg."

"Hmm." Edward looked contemplative.

"He was sort of crouching over you in the middle of the room – your face was pointed towards me, and you looked dead, extra, extra dead, not moving your eyes dead," I continued despite Edward seeming to struggle to clamp down on laughing at me again, "and... James said something. I can't remember..."

I searched backwards in my mind.

"He said I owed it to you to watch, I think. Because it was my fault you were all dead."

"But I wasn't dead yet. Or, I was dead, but –" Edward grinned at me in the dark, his eyes dancing.

"Sure, okay, fine. You were undead on the floor, immobile, but in one piece and not on fire," I corrected and huffed.

"Anyway – um, then he ripped your arm off and threw it across the room."

I was suddenly aware Edward was shaking with silent laughter into my hair, trying to hide his face from me.

"Hey, not funny! Very, very not funny, it was awful! I woke up and almost threw up and hyperventilated and I cried! Not funny!" He was laughing harder, audibly now. I glared at him, both furious and astonished.

"How... how did he rip my arm off?" Edward asked, managing to suppress his amusement enough to get the question out.

"Um, I don't know," I answered irritably. "Don't be an ass. It was vampire-fast – my dream didn't come with a slo-mo version."

"But... " I considered, thoughtfully, "sort of a twist and pop motion, I think... and then your leg, too." At that, Edward seemed to lose his last thread of control as he dissolved in a quiet convulsion of laughter, gripping my upper arm as he gasped out, "and then my leg, did he throw my leg against the wall as well?"

"I don't know, I woke up having a panic attack," I snapped. "Jerk," I added, for emphasis.

"B-grade horror movies," Edward said, and grinned in delight. I turned my head away swiftly, not wanting to allow him to distract me from my outrage with his charming smile. I was furious.

"He didn't bite my arm to rip it off, right?" he elaborated.

"No." I snapped.

"So, your dream was wrong."

He smirked.

"Oh! You! Why does it matter if it was wrong?" I hissed, trying not to raise my voice enough to alert Charlie that I was having an illicit coed sleepover. "It was really real. It sounded real."

"Hm," he reflected. "How did it sound?"

I thought about it for a moment. "Like my femur breaking... but more wet. And a sort of suction."

"Well, that is disturbingly accurate," he said, his eyes narrowing. "But at any rate, the rest was wrong. Obviously, ripping a vampire's arm off necessitates the use of another vampire's teeth. I'll give you points for creativity, though – I don't think you could have possibly seen any of what actually happened to James, so I guess that's the best your brain could come up with on its own. It just wouldn't have happened like that."

My jaw hung open at his dismissal. He grinned again, widely. "No more horror movies, okay?"

"I am so pissed," I stated simply, for lack of any better way to express myself. I was tired far beyond pithy comebacks. I rolled over to look at the nice wall again. Holds up the house.

Edward propped himself up on his arms to loom over me. "Yes," he acknowledged. "But isn't that better?" He leaned down to kiss my cheek, and then curled himself around my back.

The rain pattered against the window.

"You... were you winding me up on purpose?" I asked, incredulous.

"Well... Yes."

I stared at the nice wall, thinking through the range of emotions I had sprinted through since waking up. I was so tired.

"How is your leg?" Edward asked hesitantly. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"I'm fine." Truthfully, it ached, but no more than any other night. "What were you doing while I was asleep?" I asked, having run out of energy to keep fuming. I didn't mention the fact that he had let himself into my room in the middle of the night while I was unconscious.

"I was reading."

"What were you reading?"

"...Hamlet."

"For fun? Again? You are such a nerd," I said, smiling in the dark.

"It's your copy. And I can tell you've read it more than once. You wrote in the margins with two different pens. It's not even part of the curriculum here."

"I didn't say I wasn't a nerd."

Edward hummed in assent.

"Stay until I fall asleep?" I asked quietly, knowing I didn't need to.

"Of course." Edward wound his hand around mine and brought them to rest together against my chest. I tried to focus my mind on the feeling of his palm against the back of my hand, his chest against my shoulder blades.

He kissed the back of my head. "I'm sorry about your dream."

"It's okay. We made it."

Edward hummed again, and I slowly drifted back to sleep with the sound of the rain.

... ... ...