A/N: This is my baby, and was stopped after Breaking Dawn was written and after he imprinted. I loved this story with all my heart, and was the only one I wrote without encouragement from others. I still think about it, and hope that you find the same enjoyment out of this that I did. Please give me your thoughts on it, I do believe it would have been my best work.
Disclaimer: I own those characters you do not recognize, and the others, I must say, belong to the talented Stephenie.
Category: Books: Twilight
Genre: Romance/Drama/Action/Adventure/Suspense
Summary: The war is raging, the blood being spilled. Lines must be drawn. Which side are you on?
Midnight
by: Dark Huntress
Chapter Four: Legends
Groaning, I rolled over in my bed, wishing that the alarm clock would stop buzzing. The night out with Mike and his friends had been anything but fun. They had all seemed relatively sane, but still, my mind hadn't exactly been with the topics they were discussing. All I could concentrate on was the secret I was so determined discover. I just couldn't understand it, the very way they were was just not right.
Rolling out of bed, it took me a record twenty minutes to get ready and eat my breakfast. Before I knew it I was in the car and driving to school, determined to ask some of the students about the Quileute boys and Emily. If anything, I was going to find out as much as I could about La Push and the culture. Perhaps it was that, the way they lived, it was different than the way Forks lived, so therefore, it made them different. But then again, I couldn't just believe that they were so much apart, especially when the teenagers grouped together as much as they did.
Pulling into a parking place, I made my way inside, the heat of the warm building shocking my too cold body momentarily. It was slightly disconcerting to realize there were very few people that I could actually approach, even if it was my own fault. But it was better this way, even if there was someone here that would truly enjoy my company, I wasn't staying, so there was no point in getting attached. Better to just serve my sentence quietly and then escape as quickly and far away as possible.
"Marcus!" I called, seeing the lanky boy up ahead at his locker, he paused in what he was doing to wait for me. "Glad I caught you."
"Evelyn, hi," he greeted, smiling, two dimples appeared on his freckled cheeks, making him look completely innocent. "What do you need?"
"Um...," I was unsure of myself, how exactly was I supposed to phrase this without sounding completely out of it. "Well, I've always had a fascination with Native American history, and thought it'd be cool if I learned some stuff about the local Quileute tribe. And I need your help."
"Oh," he replied, seeming genuinely pleased that I had come to him with my problem, or maybe he thought I was just a big of geek as he was. "I'd be glad to help, how about after school?"
"Sure. Where do you want to meet?" I asked, I really didn't want to go to my uncle's house, it would just be too strange.
"How about we do research here? The librarian usually lets me stay fairly late," he suggested, and I instantly agreed, not many people would be around then.
Leaving him, I walked to my first class, already contemplating the future investigation I would go through. With Marcus's help I was sure I would be able to figure out what made them so different. I was sure it was something to do with their culture, some little thing that separated them from everyone else. It had to be their culture that made them different, what else could it be?
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The end of the day came fairly quickly, and I was literally jumping at every little noise. Once again, I was feeling completely dumb, I was digging into things that weren't any of my business. Emily was my friend, I should trust her, leave things well enough alone. But what would it hurt to look up some local color, learn some history and folklore, its not like I would find anything.
Sitting myself in the library, I tried to ignore the weird glances from the librarian and appear to be actually working on something. The words before me on the textbook page blurred, the restless turning of my stomach never leaving me alone. I was petrified, still unable to convince myself that this wasn't freaky, no wonder I didn't have any friends.
Marcus walked in the moment I was about to leave, my chances of escaping suddenly hitting zero. Dang.
"Ready?" he asked, and I nodded my head, shifting slightly in uncertainty before stepping over to one of the old computers along the desk on the walls.
Marcus quickly pulled up a chair, typed in his login name and password. The screen flashed and a loud whirring sound filled the room before the monitor showed the desktop screen. After clicking on the internet, he quickly went to a search engine and typed in La Push: Quileute Tribe. Several sites popped up, most of no importance.
Time slowly ticked by, Marcus clicking on each link and scanned through the contents before shaking his head. Once more he would go through the list, and start the process up again. As for me, I sat chewing on my fingernails and regretting this whole thing. If anyone ever found out about this, and what exactly had triggered any form of curiosity, I'd be mortified. No more like, I'd be shunned from the one group of people that actually seemed to like me. I really hoped Marcus kept quiet, and even if he did, what were the chances that it would reach La Push? It wasn't like they ran in the same circle.
But then again, news was news.
"Hey, I found something." he announced, jumping I quickly sat up and scooted forward, my nerves momentarily forgotten. "Its not much, but, its something."
I nodded my head, scanning the page. Apparently, the legend had it that the tribe was actually created from wolves by some sort of supernatural transformer. The history stretched clear back to the Ice Age, making them possibly the oldest inhabitants of the Pacific Northwest. Nothing of great importance.
More history followed, supposedly they were great whalers and sealers. They were separated from their relative people known as the Chimacum by a great flood where they tired boats to the top of trees to survive. The relative tribe were then wiped out by a Chief Seattle with the Suquamish Tribe in the 1860's. Again, nothing of importance.
In 1855, the first reported contact with white man occurred. And more about them being moved to the reservation, but nothing I was looking for. It was for the best, I suppose, at least this way I didn't feel as if I was completely betraying my friends. Nothing on that website helped me in any way, so therefore, saved me a lot of sleepless nights.
"There's not much more, I could keep looking," Marcus offered, I replied with a negative, thanking him and leaving as he logged off.
Walking to my car, I unlocked the door and slid in, already planning my evening in my mind. I had a ton of homework that I had to get done, neglecting it because of this afternoon. Usually I'd have a good start on it by now, I could already see the day tomorrow would bring.
Driving home, I immediately parked in the garage and headed inside to my room. Dropping my bag, I took off my hoodie and hung it up. Humming a tune, I nearly shrieked at a yellow envelope on my bed. Laughing, I walked over to it, absolutely sure it was from my mother. She'd said in her last email that she'd be sending me some pictures of the last speech my father had performed. Usually, with my mother, she got some very strange photographs of supporters.
Not even glancing at the addresses, I flipped the top open and pulled out the letter that lay on top of the small pile. Frowning at the unrecognized handwriting, I flipped the envelope over and gasped. It wasn't from my mom, no, it was from Mike.
Reading the note, I felt my grip tighten, my fingers crunching the edges of the white paper.
In Case You're Interested
Unsure, I flipped the letter over. That was it, nothing but one sentence underlined. Swallowing, I talked myself into taking out the photos that had obviously been blown up.
The first one was of the forest, nothing but trees, a small clearing with a single spot of dirt. Most likely a place where campfires had once been. It was beautiful, but I wasn't sure why I was being showed this. It definitely wasn't what I was expecting from him.
The second and third were the same, a few new things, like birds or something, but nothing strange. Whatever this was, it seemed to have been taken by one of those cameras that snapped every two or three seconds. The scenery change from picture to picture was very insignificant.
The fourth however, made me stop. It wasn't out yet, but a shadow, darker than the rest of the night was creeping just outside of a true view. It was huge, much larger than any bear. The birds from the previous pictures were gone, the branches bare of life. It was strangely unsettling.
In the fifth and sixth was the same, the shadow having moved slightly, but not enough to get a good shot. However, the seventh showed a truly startling beginning. A large head had come into view, truly menacing looking. Large dark eyes stared out of the trees, very intelligent eyes. The head of the beast was huge, reaching well above the bottom branches of the trees. It was as if the night itself, black as pitch. The moon slightly showed, at the edge of the mouth, if I looked close, white gleaming fangs.
The next showed the monster's shoulders, and then, finally, his entire form. He was larger than a regular horse, with long shaggy hair. Powerful muscles rippled in a still pose just beneath the surface of the dark fur. It looked like a wolf, a very large wolf. A too large wolf.
The last few were of something else peculiar, if anyone can believe it gets stranger. The image of the large, oversized wolf blurred. The form itself blurring, like its legs weren't moving, but its body was.
Next, the shape of formless black had changed and became smaller, more vertical than before. Again, it was nothing but a mass, indistinguishable in the nonmoving pictures. But the last, the last, was what really got me.
A man stood in the clearing, completely devoid of clothing. He was facing the same way as the wolf had been. Zeroing in on the face, I felt cold shiver race down my spine. I knew that chiseled features, I had seen it more than once. Sam Uley stood in that clearing, the exact same place where a wolf the size of a work horse had been only seconds before.
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I lay awake that night, replaying the still images in my mind. The only thing that bothered me, or otherwise, I would have been convinced that it was a photo manipulation, was the fact that Sam had been nude. Surely Sam wouldn't go walking around just randomly without clothes, so how would have Mike got a picture of him without getting into a place that he felt safe like his home. I highly doubted however, that Mike would go anywhere that close, he was petrified of these people.
If he had, it would be completely unnecessary, he could of simply taken a picture of him with clothes on the many times he's walked around his property or I'm sure around La Push. But then again, if Mike was truly psychotic, he could be capable of anything. Maybe I should warn them of just how crazy Mike really was, that he was actually sneaking onto their property and taking pictures of them.
But what if that wasn't the case? What if these pictures were not faked?
Stop it! The next time I saw that Newton guy I was going to kill him. He had a lot of nerve doing this to me, I really didn't like the way it was going either. Obviously, besides the Uleys and the rest, he had found a new obsession. Me. I don't know why, maybe he thought he could get to me easier, but either way it was a sick and cruel scheme. Tomorrow I would inform the authorities, well, maybe.
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The week passed slowly and uneventful. I hadn't seen or heard from my La Push friends, and really, hadn't expected to. Honestly, I was starting to wonder if Fate liked to stick things in front of me and rip them away just as fast. My uncle had declared that he didn't need my help at the site any longer, so therefore, I was pretty much banned from going up there.
Just the previous night, I'd been reading in the small den just off the main greeting area (I called it a living room, but apparently not). Out of sight, I had comfortably slid into the world of fairytales and other folklore, where everything turned out alright in the end. Why couldn't life be like that? No matter the struggles, the sun was always shining just over the horizon, ready to ward off the hostile clouds.
My aunt and uncle had entered the room, readying themselves to head upstairs to where the family room was (really, who puts a family room upstairs, away from the main floor). But with much discussing, I had discerned that my uncle had indeed concluded my enjoyment of the weekend visits to the reservation. Seeing this, and with quick words to his wife, had concluded that my time be better spent here studying for upcoming entrance exams.
I had never felt so disheartened before.
After hearing all this, I had shut my book and escaped upstairs to throw pillows at my walls. I didn't want to make a racket, that would cause them to enter without welcome, besides, it wouldn't get me to La Push.
So now, sitting on my bed, I find myself very disgruntled and wishing I hadn't thrown my pillows. How was I supposed to explain all the feathers floating around?
What was I supposed to do? I had enjoyed those times so thoroughly. Me and Emily talking, laughing, just being normal. I'd never experienced that, never had friends to spend a few hours with for no apparent reason. It was unnatural, to learn that perhaps, even with such scarce times, I'd come to treasure them so dearly. I literally didn't know what to do, I didn't want to go back to not speaking to people, to just living within my novels day after day. But, I didn't really have a choice.
The clock struck midnight downstairs, and I found it odd, to be up so late on a school night. Tomorrow was Friday, and honestly, the weekend looming ahead wasn't as promising as I had so hoped.
Growling, I returned to my previous activity, destroying every pillow in the room. It was oddly satisfying to destroy something that otherwise was seen as nice and friendly. Perhaps it was my own odd sense of rebellion, going against normal society. (Really, who knew it would become the very symbol of my following days.)
The feathers fell around me, the ceiling fan twisting them in midair, their soft downy touch sliding down my skin delicately. I giggled, unable to keep the heated anger that broiled within me as the beauty of the moment sunk in. How something so wonderful could occur from such hostility is wondrous, if only everything else could turn out as such.
Deciding that the house was clear of wondering occupants, I left my room, the stifling air almost chasing me away. My sneakers were in my hand as I entered the kitchen, grabbing a poptart before tip-toeing to the front door. Now, its not smart to wonder off at this time of night in any place, I know this, growing up in a city as I did, but surely, Forks would be safe. Its not like there are rapists out wondering the streets, just crazy Mike.
Slipping my shoes on, I disappeared outside, hugging the jacket I'd grabbed from the coatrack closer to my chilling body. It was freezing out here, the rain drops falling on my face only making things infinitely worse. Of course Fate couldn't give me a break, that would be just too lucky for me. I swear, I have the worst luck out of anyone. Okay, perhaps I'm exaggerating just a tad.
Feeling completely foolish for conversing with myself, I jogged down the silent streets, noting that all the lights in the passing house were indeed off. A few dogs barked as I went by, but overall, nobody came jumping around corners, and no crazy parental came driving up behind me. To just escape, a feeling I didn't often feel, perhaps going on nightly jogs would become a nightly routine.
Lungs heaving, I stopped at the edge of town, leaning against the greeting sign to catch my breath. I was tempted to head back to my uncle's house, but something stopped me in the last moment. A twinge of pale against the darkness of the forest caught my eye. Perhaps it was bird, I mused.
Breaking through the first line of trees, I concentrated on the steep incline. It was slick with mud, and had hardly any rocks to help support my weight. The only thing that kept me from tumbling to my doom was the large amount of trees that I clung so desperately to.
Again another flash of pale, it was too fast to tell a distinct color, and so soundless that if I hadn't been staring in that direction, I would have missed it completely. In fact, the entire forest was entirely silent, no cicadas chirping, or crickets singing. It was strange, eerily so. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to go walking out in the middle of a forest at this time of night.
Biting my lip, I turned to leave, only realizing my mistake as I went tumbling to the ground. The dirt was wet and unstable, and already I could imagine my body rolling down the steep incline as I seemed to fall in slow motion. What if I rolled into a tree? My ribs would definitely snap, but what if something worse were to happen? What if instead of a tree stopping me, it was the ground, only, ten feet down?
A solid bar fell across my stomach, or at least it felt like one. It was solid, unmoving, and very, very cold. The end I'd imagined didn't happen, but the breath I had lost from the impact came swiftly back as my heart sped up. Whatever stopped me hadn't moved since, and I'm not sure I particularly want it to. The reality of what it could possibly be, seemed much more frightening. Perhaps rapists did wonder the streets of Forks.
Slowly, I felt my body lowering to the ground, gently. Grimacing as my ankle was moved, I closed my eyes, trying to block out the pain. A cold presence passed over the abused appendage, like an ice-pack, only so much better. The bruised muscles released, the pain numbing to a tolerable level.
Opening my eyes, I came face to face to what had to be the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. She was angelic, perfect, and cautious of every movement she made across my injured ankle. She didn't say anything, only moved slowly, massaging my ankle. It was soothing, but what frightened me, once my mind returned to its normal pace, was the fact that she was so cold. She had to have hypothermia, how she was still conscious was biologically impossible. But even with her body freezing to death, she was helping me.
Staring at her garments, I frowned. She had no jacket, nor a sweater. She was decked out in what many would consider summer wear in Miami. Jean shorts, a pink tank top, dark chocolate hair pulled into a pony tail, and flip flops. No one, even in the early fall of Forks, would wear something like this. It was insane.
She stopped, turning black eyes on me, and even with the haunting color, she still held the kind air about her. I never wanted to stop looking, she was memorizing, like a fairytale princess that people just had to gape at. And even with her chilled body, she didn't seem to notice the cold. She didn't seem affected by the cool breeze that dried the wet droplets on her almost white skin, or the mud that now caked her knees.
"Are you alright?" she whispered, it was a song, a beautiful orchestra playing before an audience of aspiring musicians.
"Y...yes," I croaked out, finding my throat nearly impossible to use, whether from the cold or from her, I'm not entirely sure
"Good, I think you just sprained it, but I'm not for sure," she went on, glancing back down at my ankle only briefly before look back to me.
"O...okay," I replied, my eyes never left her face, yet she didn't seem bothered by it in the least, only completely understanding.
"What's your name?" she asked, moving to sit against a tree trunk only a few inches from me, unsure, I moved slightly as well, to face her.
"Evelyn Mallory, but I'm called Lyn," I responded, gulping, I didn't feel any hostility coming from her, and felt no fear, but I was so cold.
"I see, I've never seen you before," she went on, looking me over once, her brows scrunching together briefly before returning to look at my face.
"Likewise," I commented, if I had ever seen someone like her, there was no doubt that I would indeed remember her face.
"Well, Lyn, I hope you can forgive me," she said unexpectedly, and I felt the nerves finally come to life, the way she said it made me shrink away instantly.
Crawling away, I sucked in a breath as she disappeared before my eyes, the wind hardly rustling at her passing. A cold chill ran up my spine as I felt her presence numb the air even more than the night chill. A brilliant pain shot through my system as I crumpled forward, a small cry emitting from my parched lips.
Once again her arm came to stop me from falling, but this time, the darkness was closing in around me. The last thing I saw before I lost consciousness completely, was the ground racing by at impossible speeds.
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The first thing I was aware of was the throbbing ache shooting from my foot to the very top of my head. I had never felt such a pain, and I nearly cried out, til I remembered that I had been kidnapped. The bruise I could feel at the base of my neck, reminded me instantly of that. Why I had originally trusted her was something that puzzled me greatly. Surely it wasn't because of her remarkable appearance.
Keeping my mouth shut, I felt a cold cloth being laid across my forehead, and the covers I hadn't realized were around me til now, being moved. Gentle hands pulled the soft cotton to my chin, as a dream like voice carried to me a gentle lullaby. My mind became muddled once more, but not before I opened my eyes to peer upon an equally beautiful face as my original captor.
She was slightly taller than the brunette, but still incredibly short. She had golden eyes, and everything about her was of warmth and love. She was slender, model like so, but round, a motherly feel to her features. Long caramel hair spooled about her shoulders, framing a heart shaped face just like the brunette's. She seemed more mature though, but no where near middle aged.
Her cool hand touched my cheek, and I let my eyes slide closed, it was just too hard to keep awake.
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Jolting awake, I sat up quickly, the breaths from my lung coming in great pants as the nightmare slowly receded from my mind. I had been running through the woods, lost, alone, when an angel had come to rescue me. The brunette, kind and gentle. No matter what she did, my mind could not create the idea that she was evil, even if I was a captive in her home. Even my dreams insisted she was good.
Then, as she was helping me return home, Mike appeared, crazed and out of control. I felt the need to protect the brunette, but was unable to move. I'd been frozen, watching in horror as Mike murdered the girl, then came to me. As he raised the blood soaked dagger to my heart, I'd awoken.
A man sat at the end of the bed, his eyes slightly startled as he took in what I was sure my wild features. He said nothing, but slowly rose from where he'd been examining ankle, to the head of the bed. His hand was large, and easily fit across my entire forehead, his face scrunching as he pulled away. His hand was cold as well, but whether from my own skin or from his, I wasn't sure.
He too looked like model, shooting me concerned looks as I hissed in pain as he wrapped my foot and ankle. He had golden eyes, much like the caramel haired woman's. He seemed gentle, just as she had, just as all of them had. Could none of them look evil? I wanted to hate them, but I couldn't, not when they seemed to be taking care of me. Were my uncle and aunt worried? Was Lauren? Doubtful.
He retrieved something from his bag, and pushed me back on the bed gently. A long needle appeared in his and I instantly froze. I was terrified of needles, and the option of something harmful being in that shot was very likely.
Trying to fight, I grew more frightened as he seemed to be unfazed by my frenzied movements, my strength nothing against his own. The small hollow tube entered my skin, piercing it at the very top of my arm. It was slow, or maybe it wasn't, but the liquid seemed to take forever to enter me, delaying the inevitable.
He held me til I felt my limbs grow heavy and useless, my eyelids falling as I watched him leave the room. It would have been the perfect time to try and escape, but I couldn't. No matter how much my mind screamed to do so, my body would not let me. The last thought I had was, would I wake up this time?
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This time, as I felt movement around me, I didn't attempt to stir. If I were to make it out of this alive, I needed to play it smart. So I laid perfectly still, concentrating on keeping my breathing level so as not to alert them to my awake state. It would do me no good if I continued to get caught.
Watching them from beneath my eyelashes, I congratulated myself mentally on not being surprised at the sight. There was two, one incredibly short, dancing about the room as she glided from place to place. I couldn't tell exactly what was happening, but she was obviously preparing something.
The other one, looked huge next to her, though I'm sure any normal person would look enormous next to her. He had honey blonde hair, very muscular and lean. His eyes were golden, just like everyone's but the brunette's, and seemed to be much more serious than the ones I had encountered previously.
I almost ruined my cover when I felt him lift me from the bed, his arms incredibly cold. Surprisingly, he didn't seem to show any sign of effort or strain from lifting me, or holding me for any length of time. The young woman completed her task quickly, and I was once again lowered into the soft cotton.
How had she changed the bedding so quickly?
"What do you think's going to happen?" the woman asked, her short black hair bouncing as she turned from the window in the room.
"I don't know, it'll be up to them," he replied, all of them had the same type of voice, unrealistic, mesmerizing, beautiful.
As if in a nervous gesture, the small woman twirled a strand of short spiky hair, her bleach white teeth kneading her lower lip. Golden eyes stood out brilliantly from the white skin, they all had the same basic features. Golden eyes, too pale of skin, ice cold flesh, not normal.
Her small face smiled as she left the room, her thin body moving at impossible speeds. The man was close behind. As the door shut, I crossed my fingers beneath the covers in hope. However, my hopes quickly fell as I heard the door lock slide into place.
Standing, I rushed to the window, and cried out at the unfairness of it all. I was at least three stories high, and with no escape route in sight. I would not be returning to Forks today, if ever.
Falling back into the bed, I cried myself to sleep. It was entirely my fault that I was in this mess, just like most things that happened to me. Could I not do one thing right?
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Once again I was awoken, and this time, I purposefully rose, intent on getting some answers, I didn't want to be kept in the dark any longer.
However, once I saw them, my mouth hinged shut, and there was no hope of ever speaking.
The man was huge, in every sense but fat. He was not as tall as Jacob, I could tell that immediately, but he didn't lack much. Gold eyes, and dark wavy brown hair, he easily made the room look ten times smaller. But even with the muscles he had, he didn't seem mean, he seemed almost lighthearted. He smiled at me when he saw I was awake, yet remained silent., as if fearful I would scream if he were to speak.
The other one, a golden blonde woman, leaned back against the farthest wall, glaring in my direction. She seemed angry, her face permanently sat in a scowl. She was beautiful however rivaling the black haired and caramel haired woman easily, but she no where near matched the brunette. She too had gold eyes, and seemed much taller than all the other women in the house I had seen thus far.
As if noticing my scrutinizing gaze, she left off a miffed noise, and glided out of the room, slamming the door in her wake. The man, laughing gently, shook his great head in amusement. Sitting a glass of water on the table beside me, he disappeared out the door, winking to me as he went.
I didn't even bother to get up this time, the door locking was a good enough sign. However, the water was refreshing, and I didn't care whether it was drugged or not, it quenched my parched throat. The raspy itch in my mouth disappearing instantly.
Snuggling back into the mattress, I realized that the amount of time I'd been resting was unmeasurable. For all I knew I could have been in this room for days, or just a few hours. But either way, the only thing I could do was sleep, and sleep I did.
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I mumbled irritably at the hand that persisted in waking me from my sweet filled dreams. Whomever it was was not letting me win, and so I slowly rose, yawning as the bright light spilled across my face from the window.
A large tray of different foods sat before me, the brunette who had captured me sitting on my bed and leaning back against the wall comfortably. She smiled warmly and nodded to my food, but I was done being played, and I wanted answers.
"You don't expect me to eat this, do you?" I hissed, glaring at her, she didn't seem fazed however and shrugged her shoulders.
"You should, you haven't eaten in a little over twenty-four hours, you should be starved," she answered, looking at me and smirking when my stomach gave me away.
"Its probably poisoned," I threw back, refusing to pick up the beckoning fork, I would not let her win, not when she seemed to enjoy this so much.
"Do you honestly think if we wanted you poisoned we would have waited this long?" she returned, raising her brow as she looked at the steaming food.
"Maybe, maybe you want to string me along, torture me mentally or something," I hissed, sliding the tray a little further away.
"Stop being stupid, just eat," she ordered, pushing it back towards me, and again I refused, nut budging an inch. "Fine, then I'll feed you myself."
Startled, I tried to back away as she swiftly move to my side, unfortunately, I wasn't quick enough. She snatched a spoon from the tray and dipped into the sweet smelling oatmeal. Pressing the spoon to my lips, I glared, refusing to open them. She pushed a little more, and I pinched my lips, refusing to go as bid.
She rolled her eyes before cutting off my air from my nose, I tried holding my breath as long as I could, but soon had to give in. Gasping, I felt the steaming mush enter my mouth, and felt heaven bless me once more. It was delicious, and I'm sure by the look on my face, she knew I was had. So she silently moved back, and watched as I finished what she or whoever, had prepared.
"Now, see, that wasn't so bad was it?" she said as she removed the tray from me, my stomach no longer complaining.
Glaring, I refused to answer her, giving her the satisfaction would just make me even more upset. Just as I thought that however, something caught my eye. Her arm had moved into the shaft of light flowing from the window, and a brilliant array of sparkles twinkled on her skin. I had to blink, not believing it the first time, yet it still remained. Like a diamond that casts a million rainbows, her skin danced with unnatural life. She quickly pulled back, and I was unsure of what I saw, it was so fast, could it be real?
She turned away, looking at the other wall, before taking a deep breath and facing me once again. She seemed unsure, almost nervous. Like everything was going wrong and she wasn't sure how to correct it.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, barely audible to my ears, but I heard it anyways. She seemed sincere, but didn't all captors?
"For what?" I challenged, moving the tray and sitting it on the floor, directly in the sunlight, she made no move to pick it up.
"For everything, if I'd been more careful, you wouldn't be here now," she murmured, meeting my gaze only after she had spoken.
"What do you mean?" I asked, what did she mean if she'd been more careful? That didn't make sense, none of this made any sense.
"We called your family, they think you're in the hospital, they haven't been by to see you yet. You'll go home in a couple days," she said, standing and leaving the tray where it lay.
Her movements were sluggish, her head bowed, and her shoulders slumped. She looked so sad, like she would start crying at any moment now, and for some odd reason, I really didn't want her to.
"I'll bring you some clothes, Rosalie and you are about the same height, give or take a few inches," she stated staring at me once more. "She won't be happy, but its fun to piss her off every once in awhile, she's far too gloomy."
With that she left, and the door locked shut. I groaned in my hands, knowing that I would be stuck here for however long they wanted. I didn't like being stuck like this, having no control over my life. Though, if I thought about it, I should be used to that.
Flopping back down, I didn't bother to get up, like the last time, what was the point? My muscles contracted, jerking, wishing to move, but I ignored them. The only thing that I would accomplish by pacing about the room, would be true insanity on my part, again, something I wasn't looking forward to.
The stale air nearly suffocated me, the room having been shut off from the world for goodness knows how long, doesn't do wonders for the freshness of the oxygen. What I wouldn't give to get one good whiff of the outside air! Well, as long as I'm on that path, what I would give to be out of this house and away from the obviously, psychotic, town of Forks!
Was everyone crazy in this town? I mean really, first there is Mike, now these lunatics, it was maddening. Small towns were supposed to be safe, but no, I was in more danger here than when I lived in huge, spiraling cities. And besides being surrounded by mad people, I'm pretty sure its starting to rub off on me. I mean, I had thought I saw her skin glitter, just ridiculous...right?
Of course it is! No one has skin that does that funky glowing, sparkling thing, its just not natural. It doesn't exist, they are nothing but normal, average people with a glitch in the brain.
Jumping as the door opened, she entered again, placing a stack of clothes on the bed before leaving silently once more. I didn't hesitate like I did with the food, I needed to get out of these clothes, they were disgusting.
Holding up the jeans, I grimaced, hating them already. They were black til the front, where they turned red, definitely something for a party. Although I disliked them, they were my only choice, so I slipped them on, grimacing once I had snapped the button. I felt fat in them, the way they adhered to my skin was scanty, I wasn't above a good tight fitting jean, but this was ridiculous.
Pulling the shirt over my head, I could only imagine, with these pants, that this was this "Rosalie's" modest shirt. It was a sweater, black, which I liked, but off the shoulder. Other than that, it wasn't bad, but it was just too annoying, it always felt like it was going to fall of at any moment and expose something that I really didn't want to.
Putting on the socks, I groaned at the sight of the black heeled boots, but I put them on anyway, already knowing what was going to happen. My poor feet, they were already screaming in protest.
Standing, I wobbled to the door, unsure of what I was going to do. Listening through it, I felt disappointment flood my veins as I realized no one was whispering outside of it. Any sort of knowledge, or news, would have been a relief, but it didn't seem like they were going to allow me that simple pleasure.
Anger flooded me, indignant to all the wrongs put upon me this day and previous ones, I felt a wave of uncharacteristic violence fill me. Growling slightly, I slammed my fist into the hard wood door, swearing when the pain filled my knuckles.
As I jumped about, I came to realize, that with the great force, the door had nudged open slightly, obviously, she hadn't locked it. Whether or not it was a trap, I didn't know, however, I was not so stupid as to not at least try to get out. To just sit here thinking of all the possibilities waiting for me out there, would truly be the dumbest thing to be done. This way, I at least had a chance, the other way, I was waiting quietly for them to do what they liked.
Opening it only ajar far enough for me to slip through, I closed it just as silently, thankful that it didn't seem to have squeaky hinges.
The house was silent, eerily so, not even the slight scuffle of movements downstairs could alert me to anyone's presence. If I hadn't know that someone would not leave me, I would have thought the house abandoned. I, on the other hand, was not that lucky.
Sticking close to the wall, I crept silently along, paying close attention to all my surroundings so as no one could sneak up behind me. Even with that thought, I knew it would be fairly easy for anyone to do, especially with my lack of knowledge of the structure's layout.
At the end of the hall, a large door stood slightly ajar, a wooden cross hanging above it. It was slightly ironic really, how could these people worship God when they were holding someone prisoner in their house? Somehow with their twisted views, they must think God justified this in some form. But even if I perished because of them, I could find solace in the fact that they would reap their rewards in Hell afterwards. Funny though, that my last thought was highly unchristian, and I was reprimanding them.
Shaking myself from my running thoughts, I slipped across to the opposite side of the hall, so then, at least, I could peer in without being noticed. If there was anyone in there, I did not want them to realize I had escaped from my room. It could mean certain death, and I however, was not ready to perish.
Leaning against the frame, I worked on keeping my breathing even as I realized that not one, or even two were in there, but all of them. All of those beautiful, evil people, grouped around on warm couches and chairs, talking low to one another. A large fire roared in the hearth, a truly welcoming appeal, again, something very odd to contrast their personalities.
"What are we going to do with her?" the caramel haired woman asked, her hand clenching slightly on the book she was holding.
"Its my fault, we can't punish her for that," the brunette argued, was she trying to save me? How odd, since she was the one that had originally brought me here to begin with.
"Yes, but, I won't let her be a threat to us," the man that I had never seen said, he had bronze hair, and seemed to be with the brunette, he held onto her tightly anyways.
"I agree, I say get rid of her," the blonde snapped, her form walking over to wear the huge man was sitting before plopping down on his lap.
"You can't mean hurt her?" the short black haired woman asked, her eyes doubling in size as her head shook rapidly back and forth.
"Yeah, Rose, she didn't do anything wrong," the huge guy supported, his hands clenching on the blonde's waist momentarily.
"But I agree with Edward, if she's a threat, she can't be kept," the blonde man said that was sitting besides the black haired woman.
Silence fell, all of the concentrating on some form in the room. Most likely they were deep in thought, and with great carefulness, I worked out the fact that I could escape without being noticed. As soon as I got back to Forks I would immediately contact the police, these lunatics needed put away immediately.
"Really, its quite rude to be listening in on other's conversations," a voice called out, causing me to jump and my breathing to harshen. "But, please, do join us, Lyn."