A/N: Hey readers... I have GCSE exams starting tomorrow, so I'm not sure when I'll be posting the last few parts of this. I promise it will be soon... But PLEASE REVIEW otherwise I won't know if you guys like it...
Wish me luck with my exams guys! EEKK. I have Spanish tomorrow :/ & English Lit on Tuesday... asdfghjkl. Kinda scared.
ANYWAY - PLEASE REVIEW!

PEACE & LOVE,
x x x STARSWalkBACKWARD x x x

God Bless The Broken Road

"Hey Mr. Pinochet,
You've sown a bitter crop.
It's foreign money that supports you,
One day the money's going to stop.
No wages for your torturers.
No budget for your guns.
Can you think of your own mother,
Dancin' with her invisible son?
They're dancing with the missing,
They're dancing with the dead.
They dance with the invisible ones,
They're anguish is unsaid.
They're dancing with their fathers,
They're dancing with their sons,
They're dancing with their husbands,
They dance alone,
They dance alone."

––'They Dance Alone' - Sting, 1987.

(For the Cold War victims of Argentina and Chile.)

––– Part V –––

The sound of the lock of the door groaning brought me out of my memories. My mind mistook the cool floor for Edward's skin, for half a precious second, but all too soon I open my eyes fully and realised where I was.

I had been kidnapped, and I was clad in barely any clothes and a blindfold and a gag in my mouth. My hands and feet were tied painfully with thick rope.

I was trembling with nerves as I anxiously anticipated what was to come once I heard the door open. I had already suffered a beating, my face, chest and abdomen having taken the brunt of it. I couldn't see any of my injuries, but I knew from the sharp sensation that resembled shattered glass scrapping across my chest, that something must have happened to my bones...

I dug my nails into my palms as I tensed against the cold floor, my cheek right against the concrete and hair fanned out around me. I clasped my eyes shut even under the blindfold. I wanted the earth to open up and swallow me.

When I had first woken, I had been in a moving cattle type truck, blindfolded with all of my limbs tied up. I was surrounded by other bodies, pressed together as though we were animals. I had heard mutterings of Spanish, and one other English voice, none saying anything much, just praying.

I didn't pray, as I had never been religious. I simply curled myself tighter into a ball, ignoring my numb and cramped limbs, and composed a reply to Edward's letter in my head. I kept repeating his name under my breath, desperate not to forget.

I'm so sorry, Edward.

We were unloaded roughly from the truck after what felt like forever, and then the next thing I knew, I was here, in this old school room, where people's screams could be heard through the walls.

"Hola Señorita," came the gruff voice of a stranger. His voice made my skin crawl. He was my nest torturer no doubt.

This is how it all ends, I suddenly thought to myself.

Suddenly there we two pairs of hands on me, lifting me, and suddenly I felt myself being placed on something cold and smooth, and metal. An incredibly morbid image filled my mind then as I struggled. A chopping block.

I instantly shook the image from my mind, deciding that I was frightening myself unnecessarily. The strong hands strapped me down on the table, and then began to removed my blindfold and gag.

"Let me go!" I shouted, as soon as my mouth was free. I wriggled, lifting my head I could see my hands and feet tied so I was in a jumping jack position flat on the metal table. The man in front of me didn't bother to hide or cover his face like the man behind him, obviously confident in the fact that I would not survive this day to tell the tale. He was sneering at me, and for the first time in my life, I felt incredibly and desperately self conscious. His dark hair was half shaved, and his almost black eyed gaze wouldn't leave my body. "Let me go!" I shouted, struggling again.

He just smirked, shaking his head. "No can do, Señorita," he sneered in a heavy Argentinean accent.

"Why?" I asked, stupidly. "It's not like I can go anywhere. Just untie me!" He didn't respond. "Why am I here? Why are there so many prisoners? Did they all accidentally speak out against the regime too?"

He didn't reply, but laughed to himself, as though it was all one big joke. Then, he suddenly stiffened as the door opened and a small figure entered. I felt myself tremble harder. It was the small pale blonde girl with the red eyes in a black cloak. It was her. The vampire from the plaza. "Some of them," she spoke, answering my earlier question, nearing me. Her voice was unnerving. Beautiful just as Edward's was, like a perfect symphony, but also chilling and hair-raising. "Some have done even less than that."

I choked on my words, but suddenly found my voice. The Argentine men left, leaving us alone. "Who are you? Let me go! Let me go!"

She smirked for a second, then her face blanked. "Of course," she said, continuing as though I hadn't spoken, "You don't realise it was not what you said in the plaza that brought you here."

I frowned. "It wasn't?"

She began to adjust some of the deadly-looking equipment beside me. "Well, it was a little, however it seems that there is someone higher up that holds a grudge against the family of that boyfriend of yours." She seemed to bask in my terror as I watched her lips form the one word I had hoped she wouldn't say. "Edward Anthony Masen Cullen," she said, smug. "Isn't it?"

I huffed, suddenly feeling sudden gripping dread that we had been followed and a human had seen Edward displaying his inhuman abilities. But then, why would they capture me and not Edward, and why let the Argentinean humans do it? This blonde, red-eyed vampire had an American accent much like Edward's: articulate.

I was suddenly angry. How dare they drag such a beautiful man into this?

I almost lunged at the temptress in front of me. "I, you've––Leave Edward out of this!"

She smirked beautifully. "Why? It is, after all, indirectly his fault you're here; his family's fault. His..." she paused for deliberate dramatic effect, "'relatives' are not liked in the higher ranks of Argentina's government. They used to be powerful, as they have been around for a long time, but have made a point not to be supportive of the current regime. Since this family are so tightly bound to the Cullens, we thought perhaps taking you from the Cullen's precious 'first born' will get their attention."

I shook my head, disbelieving. "Why? What does it matter to you? Why can't you just leave them alone? They're harmless! They just want to exist! They haven't done anything!"

"Our kind have powers in high places in almost every country in the world. Most are just idle by-standers, but at the moment, while Argentina is so pathetically weak in this current human regime, we're taking the opportunity to step in..."

She came so close to me that I could see the marble flawlessness of her skin. Her red eyes haunted me. I made sure to suck on my low lip to keep any of my blood from dripping. "Since these humans seem to insist on killing, we're simply taking advantage of the huge amount of Argentine...cuisine has increased for our kind."

She smiled as I gagged at the mental image of countless of bloody corpses piled up high, and this, seemingly 'sweet' red eyed young women with their blood all over her face...

She carried on. "That is beside the point. Your boyfriend is also risking his very existence by being with you. We took it upon ourselves to remove you before anything drastic occurred that would lead to Edward's unnecessary death... He is one of Aro's favourites..."

My mind reeled. Aro. I recalled the name from the stories Edward had told me in the hotel room before my nightmare. Aro was the vampire royalty, the Volturi's, leader, and old friend of Edward's father Carlisle. I blinked rapidly. This whole thing went an awful lot deeper than I had realised.

"You also know too much about us," she said, careful not to outwardly reveal anything. "You are considered a liability," He blood-red eyes were cold, "and the Volturi do not give second chances."

She turned with another cloaked member I hadn't noticed before, a large male, to leave, and for some reason I quickly spoke up.

"Wait!" I swallowed. "If I die, will he live? Edward?"

She turned partially, the same nonchalant expression on her face. "As long as he does not do anything rash." Her eyes circled, her voice a strange calm. "Which I cannot guarantee once he finds out you'e dead..."

I felt hysteria bubble like lava in the pit of my stomach as I reached near hysteria. "No! What do you mean? What are you going to do to him?"

She turned to me one last time, her voice sweet, though her eyes sparked with morbid enjoyment. "It's more a matter of what he will do to himself... I'm sure if this love he claims for you is true, he will not plan to outlive you by long."

After everything, I realised then I had not saved Edward by victimising myself after all, because it was not me that had caused all this. It wasn't me at all... I'd had it all wrong. I had achieved nothing. I had fallen into their trap without so much as a fight. I had practically handed myself over, thinking I was doing the right thing, only to find that I was just a pawn in whatever vampire/human games went on secretly within the Argentinian regime. I was the tool of emotional blackmail. If I had fought against being taken, if I had shared with Edward seeing this blonde petite vampire at the plaza, then he would have insisted we leave for home...where we both would have been safe.

But no, I hadn't done any of that. Like the out-of-place human I was, I had yet again done the opposite of the ordinary; stepped out of line. Yet again, I had ruined everything.

My body seized at the thought of Edward committing the 'S' word; suicide, taking his own life. I couldn't comprehend it; my mind blocked the very idea from materialising in my mind. I could barely even think of it. The very thought took me back to my feverish nightmare in the hotel room. The sound of Edward's neck crunching had sounded so horrifyingly real, and the memory of that alone made me gag. My breathing was so rapid my head span as the idea of any form of life without Edward filled my mind.

I had done this, I reminded myself. I deserved what was coming to me now. I, and I alone had done this.

The chilling, red-eyed women left me choking on the idea of Edward's lifeless body, as my torturers closed in.

–––ℬ&ℰ–––

My body curled, arched, as a gut-wrenching, bloodcurdling scream filled the room. It took me a while to realise that this nauseating sound was in fact mine. I tried to bite my lip, not wanting to give the torturers around the the satisfaction of my scream, however, I couldn't terminate the human instinct within me. It wash't my fault, after all, as Edward liked to say; I was so typically human. The torturers had held me down and stripped me completely, and after I while I had given up kicking against them. They had tied me down again and were shocking me with electricity that burned my skin and fried my nerves. They were demanding 'Who I was working for' and 'What I was doing here' and I couldn't answer if I tried. Obviously whoever tipped me off, vampire or not, gave the impression to the Argentine regime I was some kind of spy.

"Talk!" the torturer with black eyes growled as he heightened the voltage of the shocks through my body. I screamed hysterically, my body automatically jackknifing upward, only to be pressed back onto the table by the restraints holding me. I choked, as the metal prongs were taken off me for a moment. I gasped for breath as more and more tears filled my eyes, and rolled heavily down over my temples and into my hair. There were so many that my throat began to clog. "Stop!" I tried to scream. "I don't know anything! Please! STOP!"

When they replaced the shock utensils, nausea filled me as they connected them to the most intimate parts of my body; my breasts and then, even lower. I was about to vomit, and so threw my head to the side so I wouldn't choke. I vomited onto the table by my head. The whole thing was repulsive. I knew what was coming as my unfocused eyes looked at nothing in the small, sweaty and humid school room. They attracted the metal to my nipples, which was a painful, sharp pinching sensation, and then horror filled me as I felt the cold metal being attached to the sensitive skin of my vagina as well. I was yelping, almost like a tortured puppy, begging then not to do what we knew was inevitable. They were sniggering, and their was a pause...

Then they turned on the shocks higher and stronger than ever.

I could no longer hear the screams of others like me through the walls.

I didn't even hear my own screams.

The pain was so intense it filled every space, every corner of my existence as my body convulsed and spasmed violently.

In that moment, if I could, I would have begged for death. Death would have been a merciful release, even if it's consequences were not.

The hot, acid like pain was a never-ending cycle. I could no longer feel where the electricity started and where my body began.

I blacked out, not coming round for a long time I supposed, because when I did, the room was dark

Then it all got worse.

I could feel the rawness of the already bleeding and blistering skin of my breasts and between my thighs. I could move without wanting to cry out. Oh god. I closed my eyes, not wanting to look at it.

All but one of my torturers left when they received no answers from me. But the deathly eyed one stayed behind, and began to take advantage of my limp helpless body laid on the torture table. I had my eyes closed even after I came round again, and that when he first started touching me; much like the way I had once hoped Edward would touch me. I tried to resist, pushing him away, unable to speak. He had already removed his pants and underwear I sensed, but I didn't look. He climbed on top of me on the table, his knees pinning down my arms. His whole body weight was completely on me, but the pain of such a trivial thing was nothing compared to what I had experienced by now.

I tried to wriggle away, ignoring the screaming protest of my scorching skin, but his body pressed then against fresh burns and I yelped out uncontrollably, choking. His hand grasped a painful handful of my hair, as he hissed, "Who are you?" I knew exactly what he said, but he leaned closer as he spoke, pressing even harder on my burning skin. I didn't know where, as every cell in my body was screaming, but I just knew he was causing it. I yelped louder.

"G-g-g," He leaned closer to hear what I was about to say. If I hadn't been barely conscious, I may have felt almost smug. Once he had leant his ear right to my mouth, I breathed almost inaudibly. "G-g-get the f-fuck o-off of m-m-me!"

He growled, obviously hoping for information. "Chingate, puta!" His disappointment turned to anger instantly, as his fists came in contact with my face, my head. After a few punches, I felt weightless, knowing I was now bleeding from my head again, somewhere.

It was then he advanced, resuming his straddling position on top of me. He began to aline his lower body with mine, and I knew, despite my near sleeping state, what was about to happen.

Not only as I going to die, but I also was going to die with my innocence stolen and in ruins.

This evil torturer I had never met was going to rape me, and then leave me to die, and of all things, all I could think of was Edward, and how glad I was in that moment that he would never know what happened to me.

It would spare him at least a little nauseating despair and unnecessary grief.

It sounded odd, but in that moment I also felt glad. I was grateful that Edward would remember me as I was: Warm, calm and clumsy, with practically translucent skin, and a fragile beating heart.

My torturer was fumbling above me, and I was almost so far gone that I barely noticed he hadn't intruded my body yet. I desperately tried to back away from him further, but my limbs were still bound. He looked down into my face and I instantly clamped my eyes shut. I felt his hand, his fingers, on my left breast, on the hot and ragged burnt flesh of my nipple. I let out of noise I cannot even attempt to name, as the pain was like hot shards of glass shooting through me. He then deliberately squeezed the burnt flesh there with all his human fist strength, and I couldn't contain my pleas for him to stop. It was the the second time I had spoke in front of him this entire time. "Stop! Please! Stop... Please-I'll-do-anything!" It came out as one whole mash of words as blood dripped over my brow from my head wound––maybe wounds––and obscured my vision. I squinted.

He sniggered at my pleading, his eyes leering over my body. I felt grimy from the countless hours I had been stuck in this room, and sick still from the fever I still hadn't recovered from. All of it was too much. I found myself wondering how I had managed to hold on so long.

"Please," I said, my voice not even strong enough to be a whimper. "Please just kill me."

The words sounded odd, alien, yet one hundred per cent fitting with my train of thought. He looked down at me with an intensity and I didn't wish to acknowledge.

He smirked, simply replying, "Not until I am done with you."

I closed my eyes as he began to move, intent on violating me in the worst way. Again, one thought crossed my mind:

This is where it all ends.

It was then that I heard it, and, by the halting of his movements, I realised, so did my torturer. The sound of unwanted commotion somewhere within the building. Not the the usual sound of torture induced screams, no...it was more shouts of exclamation. Almost like a warning, that someone unwanted was coming...

Suddenly, the man had pulled his underwear back up and was pressing his hands with all his strength against my throat, trying to cut off the air to my lungs. I was suddenly asphyxiated, and on instinct my arms twitch as they tried to involuntarily flail, only they were still bound, so could not aid me in my struggle. I was totally defenseless. I felt the burning of my lungs and I realised with growing panic that I was fighting a losing battle. I couldn't breathe, and it was evident that my torturer was trying to kill me so that I would not be alive to tell my ordeal to whoever had just busted into the building. I had to be silenced, and so far, it looked as though I would be. I could hear the choking noises bursting from the back of my throat, short and sharp. My eyes bulged as my mind began to drift, much like it had with the chloroform. I felt the exceedingly irresistible magnet-like pull of an endless sleep, and I was more than willing to obey after all the pain I had gone through.

I knew then, I was ready.

Death was peaceful, more than easy. Life was the hard part.

The abyss began to absorb me; after all the years of asking, the ground was finally going to 'open up and to swallow me whole.'

If there really did turn out to be a heaven, then at least I could move on to a place where, perhaps, I could be with Edward forever. My white angel in hell.

As I felt my torturers grip ease the tiniest fraction, I realised I wanted to end my life with my love's name the last on my lips. So I did. I spoke Edward's name as loud as I could from my scorching throat, using the last of my oxygen to do so.

I had never given much thought to how I would die.

Having said that, never in a million years had I expected it to end like this, but I'd decided that dying in the place of someone I love, seemed like a good way to go.

I felt the pull of deaths siren call, and this time giving into it was almost as easy as breathing, and I made no attempt to resist.

After that, there was no more.

Just me, and Edward, in my happy place.

–––ℬ&ℰ–––