I felt my body lift from the bed, my heart pounding underneath my skin as I was coated with a light sheet of sweat. I closed my eyes tightly, the balls of my hands rubbing into my eyelids until it began to burn. I pulled the blankets off of me, my throat dry and parched as I set my feet onto the hard floor.

I glanced around, realizing I was still at the cottage just down the road from home. I remember getting kicked out along with Paul and Peter and being sent here so Edward could have his way with his female companions. My blood was boiling with irritation but my nightmare only let me feel half of the anger I felt towards him.

I hated these nightmares.

I hated waking up like this.

I wanted to go home.

Not to Edward's, not to Carlisle's.

But to Deer Isle.

I felt the tears weltering up and I stood, making my way to the bathroom, closing my door behind me. I turned on the cold faucet, cupping my hands and letting the water fill it. I splashed the water onto my face and then up and down my arms. I wet the small strands of hair back and looked up into the mirror.

The pinwheel necklace glinted from the small light that hung on the ceiling and I touched the smooth surface of it, closing my eyes as I took in a deep breath. I walked to the kitchen grabbing a glass of water to soothe my parched throat and headed back to my room.

I stopped at the end of the hallway, my feet pressing harder into the rug as I felt my heart skip a beat, my hand coming up to rub my chest. My mouth went dry again as I stared at the door of my room, wide open.

I thought I shut it.

I always shut my door when I leave my room.

The hallway was becoming darker, everything was quieter and I felt my breathing become heavier as I slowly began making my way to my room. I reached the opening, glancing in to see that it was perfectly normal, nothing was changed.

My shoulders relaxed but I had felt stupid, scolding myself for getting so worked up. I had obviously forgotten to shut the door, something that could have happened to anyone. I took a step in, grabbing my doorknob to close it shut.

I gasped, bringing my hand back as I realized something sticky was on my doorknob. I looked down to my hand, it too dark to see the color but a scent assaulted my nose and I felt my stomach stir with sickness.

Iron.

Blood.

I turned quickly, seeing someone out my window, a dark figure passing quickly as if they had been watching me the whole time. My breathing hitched, my fingers letting go of the glass of water in my hand and just a second later it shattered on the floor, water and glass pricking my bare feet. I jolted out of my room, stumbling over the rug as I fell to my knees and at this point, Peter and Paul were out of their rooms, turning on the hall light.

"Bella!" Peter called out, knelling down beside me to help me up. "Jesus, you're bleeding. What happened?" He said, touching my arm as he looked at my hand that was coated in blood.

"It's not mine." I told him, shaking my head, staring at my open room.

"What do you mean it isn't yours?" He said as Paul came down, inspecting for wounds.

"It was on my doorknob! Someone was in my room when I went to the bathroom! They were watching me from the window!" I cried, feeling as I began to hyperventilate.

"Are you certain?" Paul asked.

"Yes! I saw someone out my window!" I began shaking. Peter wrapped his arms around shoulders, hugging me tightly to calm me down. He was saying something to Paul, but I couldn't understand it, everything was a blur. I grabbed my pinwheel that sat against my neck, holding it tightly as I tried to calm my nerves.

Suddenly, we all turned to a wall; on the other side of it came a loud noise that sounded a lot like something crashing, glass shattering and metal churning.

"Peter…" Paul said, grabbing his sons shoulder as they stood up, bringing me with them. Peter grabbed a metal bat and the three of us walked out the front door and to the side of the house. It wasn't hard finding out what broke, sitting on the side driveway was Paul's car – the window shattered and a large dent straight in the middle, all the way to the ground. It looked totaled and I stuck close behind Peter, seeing four long marks down the side of it, almost as if they were scratch marks.

-TSIPWR-

"No, no. She's fine." Paul said as he stood at the corded phone, holding it to his ear. "Yeah, just a bit shaken up."

Peter sat down next to me, pulling a blanket over my shoulders and handing me a mug of hot chocolate. I still felt sick. After spending nearly fifteen minutes in the bathroom scrubbing the blood off of my hands, I still couldn't let go of the sense of disgust. Even when the blood was wiped off, I still scrubbed. I couldn't get the image out of my head; I couldn't get the smell away from me.

"Drink the hot chocolate, Bella. You need to warm up." He said, helping me bring the glass of hot chocolate to my lips.

"I don't think you need to come over, she looks to be fine. She just needs to get some sleep." Paul said, presumably talking to Edward. "Yes, Sir. We will have to call the car insurance company tomorrow."

"Bella…" Peter whispered next to me as I stared out into nothing. "You gotta drink this, babe."

"Yes. I've checked the house twice as well has Peter. Whoever it was, is now gone." Paul said.

I drank it all up with his help, my eyes heavy with sleep. Paul hung up with Edward and asked me where I preferred to sleep. I opted for the couch, not wanting to go back into that room. Paul said his goodnights, leaving Peter and I. I laid on the couch and he brought more blankets over me, covering me and setting a pillow underneath my head.

"You want me to stay out here with you?" He asked. I shook my head. "Are you sure."

"I'll be okay." I told him with a half smile.

"Okay." He said, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "Yell if you need me, okay?" He whispered and I nodded my head. "You're a strong girl, Bella." He said, leaving me in the darkness of the living room.

I turned my face towards the couch, curling up in ball as I tried to be strong. I had no idea whose blood was on my doorknob, or who was out my window. Paul thought maybe it was just some teenage boys trying to be funny. Peter and I knew differently. My gut told me differently.

This wasn't random. This wasn't some boys trying to play a prank. It was someone who was trying to get me. Someone who knew exactly what they were doing.

Sleep was useless.

I was restless.

And I knew I wasn't safe.