He looked more like Jasper, but – if it was possible – more sinister. He had slightly ripped and rugged looking clothing. He was barefoot, his blond hair twisted at the nape of his neck. He was definitely a vampire, although he had the strangest eyes. They were bright crimson in colour. I supposed that the vegetarian diet the Cullen's adopted was reflected in their eyes. And then I criticised myself for wasting time thinking about his eyes.

"Sorry." Sorry. I said and signed, nervously. "I thought you were someone else." I'll just be going.

His eyes flashed with amusement, and he took a casual step forward. I backed up slowly towards my truck. I could smell the exhaust piling up in the space we were in. Again, it was a strange thing to note, when I was clearly in danger. I swallowed quickly.

"Are you with the Cullens? This is their territory, after all." I spelled out 'Cullen', and motioned around vaguely. I hoped that dropping their name might grab his attention, or at least his hesitation. Was their claimed territory in the vampire world? I sure as hell hoped so. My senses were beginning to sharpen. I was losing my hearing, but my vision, my sense of smell, my feeling of the cold rain tingling against my skin, this was all heightened. He mumbled something at me.

"I'm sorry. I can't hear you." I'm deaf. My hand shook slightly with the last sign.

And then he stepped forward again. I stepped backward, and collided with something. I took my eyes off him for a fraction of a second, to verify that I had backed into my truck, and he was suddenly in front of me. I froze, unmoving, trying not to breathe. He did though. He took in a long, slow breath, inching his nose close to my hair. I closed my eyes. If I was to die, at least I could pretend it was Edward who had finally given in. Edward who had me pinned against my truck. Edward, who had chosen to not fight with his primal side any more.

And then I was flying.

He had grabbed me by my waist and begun running. The whooshing feeling I had thought I'd experienced when Edward so gently carried me, or even when I was being driven in places was nothing – NOTHING – compared to the forces I was feeling now. It was dizzying. I felt my stomach lurch and clamped my mouth shut. I closed my eyes too, trying not to feel. I focused instead on the harsh grip around me. His forearm was digging painfully into my ribs. That was a pain I could focus on. My legs would have been dangling behind him, but we were moving so fast that they were literally swaying in the wind.

I had no idea how long we ran, but suddenly I was being dropped into a clearing. I felt my wrist shatter as I collapsed ungracefully onto the freezing ground. We'd made our way up into the mountains apparently. I took a moment to vomit, ungracefully, onto the ground beside me, and then searched for my kidnapper. He was crouched on a rock staring at me. My eyes were watering from the pain in my ribs and in my wrist, but I kept a terrified staring contest up with him.

"You were in the Cullen house." He said, very clearly, towards me. I didn't respond. If I opened my mouth I might vomit again. I was desperately trying to maintain focus. I had to read his lips.

"He smelled like you. They all did, but he - up when I - on your smell."

I sat, now blinking away tears and trying to keep focused. I would be silent. As far as he knew I couldn't hear him. He was malevolently discoursing with the air.

"I haven't seen a pet this loved since the twenties." Pet? Pen? Pan? Bet? I'd definitely heard that wrong.

"And to think. Extra vulnerable. Weaker than most, unable to hear. And yet you… smell … so… -." He had dragged the last few words out, but the last word was either cool or good. I couldn't hear, and I could barely focus. It didn't help that he was barely moving his lips. I continued staring at him, specifically at his mouth. It twisted into a smile and suddenly he leapt towards me.

He again tucked me tightly under his arm again and began running. There was no use fighting – I'd seen how strong he was. All I could try and do was stay alive until Edward – and Alice – found me. On this particular journey I was even less lucky than the first. My captor decided to jump between massive boulders mid-journey. My ribs felt as though a hammer was being forced against them every time we landed, and my leg scraped against something that ripped through my jeans. I remembered seeing the ground lurch towards me again and I closed my eyes.

I must have blacked out, because the next thing I knew I could hear voices. I hoped reverently that it was someone I knew, but the angry tones sounded unfamiliar. It sounded female, and then male. I managed to force one of my heavily weighted eyelids open. I was lying with my broken wrist twisted beneath me, in a pile of snow. I could see through very blurry – and probably concussed – eyes, a flash of vibrant red, and then gold again. Was it those eyes? The eyes that were red that should have been gold. No it danced. Danced like fire. It was hair, shining in the eerie white light of the snow.

The snow was nice. I wasn't sure how much time had passed before I had passed out again... but the next thing I recalled was water. My eyes shot open as I panicked. I was drowning! All I could see was darkness around me. I coughed into the icy wet and felt myself hit the ground again. Wherever we were it was pitch black. I was unsure if I'd just been dragged through a waterfall, or if wherever we were it had started pouring outside.

Breathing hurt. I wasn't sure if there was water in my lungs, or just the damaged ribs, but it hurt a lot. I should be trying to escape, or leave evidence of something probably, but Edward wouldn't fault me if I just lay here would he? I couldn't see anything. And so many things hurt. I could taste copper in my mouth and I hoped really hard that I'd bit my tongue or something. I did not want to be bleeding into or out of anywhere if I could help it.

I closed my eyes one last time.

And suddenly it was bright as if a floodlight were shining in my face again. My head screamed with the intrusion of light, but I kept my eyes open. They were my only windows to the world. I had awoken to a pair of red eyes in a menacingly calm face, standing above me, looking right at me. His head got larger - he had crouched down - and it had filled the sky.

"I want this to hurt."

I wasn't sure I wanted to – but I had heard every word. I supposed it was quiet enough, or my brain was making new connections maybe, or perhaps I had injured my head so far that I was now imagining speech. Wasn't I in enough pain? I couldn't imagine more than the searing scrape on my leg which I didn't want to look at. More than the wrist which I had refused to glimpse at too, but knew from experience that it would be purple and swollen. More than the tiny army in cleats which had taken to jumping on my brain. How could I possibly get more hurt?

And then he reached down, to my arm, and pulled it.

If you've never dislocated a shoulder before, consider yourself pretty darn blessed. I don't remember screaming, but when I regained consciousness again my throat felt as though I'd been yelling for hours. I couldn't feel my arm at all, and I was hoping it was still attached. I still could see only bright white around me, and I was starting to wonder if I had gone blind. IT was hard to keep my eyes open. I would have loved to have had some hearing at that point. All I could get was a muffled roar. Whether that was location or concussion, again I was unsure. I was trying not to breathe. Breathing hurt a lot.

And again, I was out for the count.