Still following. Still following. She glares at the concrete, speeding up in hopes of losing the (dare she say it?) short alchemist. No such luck; the shrimp is accustomed to navigating through the throngs of people taller than him. She mumbles darkly to herself as she breaks out in a sprint.

And then she quickly runs out of breath, a result of her nonexistent stamina and high heels. She's surprised she hasn't broken the thin heels yet, she thinks as she bends down to examine the shoes.

Shit he's catching up the damned hobbit!

"Did you say something?" Edward asks in his annoying 'I-Know-Better-Than-You-Do' voice. She keeps silent, because she knows she'll be committing a capitol offence if she lets her control loosen for one second.

One tree, two trees, three trees, four…Benji…

"Thought so," Edward says.

"Maybe you're too short to catch my words," Isabella says quietly.

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SHORT THAT HE'D BETTER STAY FAR AWAY WHEN PEOPLE TALK BECAUSE HE'S SO SMALL THAT THE SINGLE PROTON THAT HE IS COMPRISED OF WILL GO OUT OF WACK BY THE SOUND VIBRATIONS OF YOUR VOICE?"

Blink.

"You," Isabella says mockingly. Immediately, Edward transmutes his arm into a sharp knife. With a start, she realizes he has a metal arm. It's only when he runs after her that she continues walking. He won't do anything, she tells herself. Right on cue, the blade whistles by her right ear.

"I shiver in fear, oh mighty gnat," Isabella growls as she dodges or runs over pedestrians at random. Behind her, she hears the clacking of Edward's leather boots. Stirring up the amoeba is surprisingly fun. If she's stuck with a dog of the military, might as well teach him tricks. Or so she tells herself. A flash of pink catches her eyes, and she thinks about a cliché plan.

I either really hope he's dumb enough to fall for it, or really hope I'm not being tailed by someone that stupid.

Then she decides it can't be all bad to try so she walks towards the sign.

"Hey wait up you hag!" Edward yells.

"So you can watch me pee? Hell no…even though I'm sure you want to," Isabella retorts, barely suppressing her smirk. Edward's forced to stare blankly as she waltzes in high spirits into the brick building, not knowing (hopefully) that she's escaping through the back exit. Grey eyes scan the area. No microscopic red shrimp. Isabella takes a deep breath and runs in the direction of her house.

One step, two…

It takes her 2013 steps to get to her destination. By then, she's panting heavily.

"Mom, I'm home!" she says as she throws her stilettos at the shoe rack. Depleted, she plops down on the couch and curls up in a ball, completely disregarding the wrinkles she is giving her dress.

"Izzy, did you throw your shoes at the wall again? I told you not to do that, it leaves a—"

"Nasty mark, yes I know," Isabella cuts in. "And I'm sure that's a real tragedy. Can we have clam chowder?"

A sigh's heard from the kitchen.

"So you can burn it again? Not a chance. We're having Xingese."

"There's clam chowder in Xing."

A read head streaked with grey pops out from the kitchen, a wooden spoon in her hand.

"Fine."

Isabella frowns. She's never told her mother about the Incident, but she's pretty sure she knows something's off. Ever since the library burned down a week ago, Isabella's been subjected to extreme questioning at random intervals. Benji would tell her to just enjoy the food.

"Where's that boy you've been dating?"

"He moved…"

A knock abruptly shoves her out of her daydreams. She leaps to her feet and thuds down to the door. At first, she doesn't see anyone. Then she looks down, and there's Edward, six inches below her line of sight (though that could be because her house is raised).

"What do you want?" Isabella snaps. Edward crosses his arms.

"Well, other than an explanation for why you left me staring at the women's bathroom like a pervert, nothing." Huh. The shrimp's trying to be sarcastic.

"I left you standing there like a pervert? Isn't it your choice to stay?"

"Izzy what's going—" Isabella's mom stops when she sees Edward. There's a long silence as her gaze switches back and force between Edward and her. Tensing, Isabella prays to herself.

Please don't let her say it, please don't let her say it—

"Izzy, I thought you told me he moved!"

I meant he moved to Heaven, Mom. People can't come back from the dead—

"What's going on here?" Of all times for her overprotective dad to arrive—

"Oh Vic! Our little Izzy's boyfriend's here!" It's amazing how fast her dad's expression changed. Edward tries to cower behind her back as she tries to stutter out he isn't her boyfriend. Her boyfriend's dead.

"Young man, you have five seconds to prepare for torture…I mean interrogation," Isabella's usually kind dad says with an evil glint in his eyes. So Isabella thinks to herself—why not? It'd be fun to see the shrimp squirm.