Chapter summary: You know, you'd really think I'd learn something from the last time I left Rosalie to forge my own way through the snow, right? But when there's no vampire in sight, and a girl's gotta go ... Walking in snow with socks was a problem, though.

Well, this was just great. I was hungry, but there was nothing on the stove (which was burning hot, I was grateful to notice). I had to, you know, go, but the nearest toilet was a mere fifteen seconds away ... but it was outside, and I didn't have shoes or boots, and those fifteen seconds were in vampire speed. I had managed to scare away the only available vampiric mode of transportation by just talking about my blood. I must be super tasty, I guessed. I had no idea what the distance would actually be to the outhouse. Through snow. In socks.

Like I said: just great.

It was simply impossible to plan around Rosalie's disappearances. She could be gone for hours at a time, like yesterday morning, or she could be within shouting distance and magically appear within seconds.

"Rosalie!" I waited a bit, and then: "ROSALIE?"

Nothing.

Well, I tried the "few seconds" theory. And, from the way she reacted as she left, I could guess she'd be gone a few hours, like she was yesterday morning. I didn't need to go right now, but I didn't think I could wait a few hours, either.

And I was hungry.

And I was thirsty.

One thing at a time, but Rosalie and I were going to have a talk. Or, more accurately, in her current state of silence, she was going to get a talking to. It was fine and all if she wanted to do the kidnapping and killing thing, but ...

No, wait. It wasn't fine that she was doing the whole kidnapping and killing thing, but since she was anyway, she had some responsibilities she needed to fulfill, and in a much better way than what she was doing right now.

I snickered, realizing what I was doing: I was mentally scolding my vampire kidnapper for slacking off on the job.

Well, if you're going to do something, you may as well do it right.

Like what I had to do now. To use the euphemism, I didn't have a pot to piss in, and I didn't think Rosalie would appreciate the smell, anyway, what with the admixture of blood, and all ... I could wait a while, but then what would happen if I got desperate? I know what would happen: I would rush outside wearing whatever I could find, and then I probably wouldn't make it in time to wherever the outhouse was. I looked outside the front door, closing it quickly against the cold. Nope, I couldn't see it from where I was standing, so it would be sure to be a trek to get there. If I waited, I'd probably end up relieving myself somewhere between here and there. I could just see it: me freezing my butt off, my feet numb in the snow, leaving my mark in the forest.

And then what? Well, Rosalie, by her actions, had made it pretty plain I had a scent, so I could just imagine what would happen if she came across that in the forest. Maybe she would lose her tight hold over her already precarious control? But then, there were other issues besides her. My all too recent encounter with a pack of wolves got me thinking that it may not be the best idea in the world to leave my scent in the forest for predators to pick up.

Predators ... wait a minute. Wait just one minute! What else was out there in the woods besides animals? More vampires? More vampires that would smell my flow along with my excrement and say "mmm! tasty human!" just like Rosalie? More vampires that would meet me walking to or from the outhouse?

I had gone my entire life up to now believing that vampires were myth. Within the last month, they had become a reality, the count going from zero to four vampires that I knew. Rosalie's tirade yesterday implied that there were more. Many more? And what she said about Edward, and how I saw her act around me, I gathered vampires in general preferred people to horseflesh. Would they wait long enough for me to explain that I was already 'taken', and they'd have to, like, wait in line? Did vampires have a pecking order or obey queue discipline?

I would have never imagined that a trip to the toilet could be so fraught with peril. Yes, my life was now interesting, but I didn't really think I particularly wanted it interesting in this way.

What to do? What to do? I remembered when I was a little girl, Ma and Pa used to take me to church sometimes. I vaguely remember one sermon the preacher gave; the gist of it was "How then shall we live?" He was saying things about all the bad stuff going on in life, but that we just had to do what was right.

Ma and Pa weren't regular church-goers, and Pa never took me after Ma left. Not that it helped me at all in this current situation. I remember vividly Rosalie's sardonic look as she held my hands against the cross pressed into her. I wondered what her beliefs were. Did she believe in God? Did she have a particular religion? Did she go to church?

It should have been a hilarious thought: Rosalie going to church. I mean, come on, she's a vampire, for goodness sake! But as soon as I pictured it — Rosalie sitting in a pew in a dress like the one she was wearing as she made off with me and with a stern and solemn expression on her face — it didn't seem funny at all. I wondered if she was a regular church-goer with her parents when she was human. Her new family, I guess they were the 'Cullens', did they go to church?

Or did vampires have their own religion? Their own God? There was a famous bank robber by the name of Baby Face Nelson terrorizing Chicago. He would always make a grand exit saying: "Remember, folks: Jesus saves, George Nelson withdraws!" His salutation was, of course, made in jest, but did Jesus offer salvation to the vampires, too? If He didn't, I supposed there wasn't much point to going to church at all, was there? If He did, how did that work with them killing people?

But didn't people kill people? Didn't people kill people a lot more than vampires killed people?

But then, did I bear responsibility for people killing people just because I was also a person? According to Rosalie, she had killed some people, her fiancé being one of them, which was more killings than I had done. In fact, that was more than most people had done. It seemed intrinsic to being a vampire to kill people. After all, weren't people their food source? (Was Rosalie saving me for a snack? Was I a play-toy of hers that she would eat when she got bored of me? The situation didn't feel like either was the case, but she was just so difficult to understand! Her motivations so obscure!) So, if vampires killed ... people to eat, were they entirely beyond salvation by their very nature?

Jeez! Going from planning a trip to the outhouse to wondering about vampires in church was a stretch I couldn't have ever even imagined I would be making.

Okay. Outhouse foray. I went over to the piles of clothes that I was gifted with yesterday, sat on the floor, and took inventory. Wool socks, panties, pads ... there were three bundles of pads. I stopped and counted the pads in one of the bundles. Thirty pads. There were about one hundred pads in total in the supplies she got me. Was she planning on keeping me around that long?

Wow. This was something to think about.

But not now, as I had more pressing concerns. Back to the inventory: two sweaters, five shirts, lots of tees. Five sets of PJs. Three pairs of denim jeans.

No shoes. No boots. No jacket. No scarves. No gloves. No hats. No hope?

No. She obviously didn't want me going around outside. Unless, that is, she thought I could traipse about like her, in a Chanel dress and bare feet ... or like she did yesterday. I blushed.

Back to the plan. I didn't have normal outside wear — Rosalie didn't leave me any such — but I could improvise with what I did have here. I set aside a pair of panties and a pad to wear after going, then examined the rest. Hm. I could wear three pairs of socks; that should provide some insolation against the cold for my feet. I could wear these PJs and a pair of jeans over that, and then double up on my sweater. The other sweater I could use as a hat and scarf combination, and I'd use a pair of socks for mittens.

Perfect! I felt rather pleased with myself having pulled this plan together: Bella Conquers the Toilet! If I had a sword and shield handy I could take on a dragon or two. Maybe even a vampire.

Well ... maybe not.

I got dressed. I felt completely awkward, wrapped up in three layers everywhere. I hadn't even wrapped my head in my "scarf", and I was already sweltering, sweating buckets into the tee and PJs that formed the layer closest to me. Good thing I had put on the "mittens" last. It was a ludicrous task: picking up that last sweater that was my scarf. I felt like a complete buffoon.

I lumbered over to the door, sweater/scarf under my arm, fresh panties and pad in wrapped into a ball in hand, and examined the door latch. After one attempt at opening the door in my mittened hand, I decided the best course of action was to remove the mitten. Got the door open, mitten back on my sweaty hand, and scarf wrapped around my head as quickly as I could in my arctic exploration suit.

During those brief seconds, the cold from the outside came through the door and kissed my exposed hand, neck and face. I was hot, but still I shivered a bit. Fortunately, my covered areas stayed warm, and that gave me the confidence to push forward. I took my first step forward. My triple-socked foot crunched through the snow.

...

After fifty steps away from the cabin, the cold had become friends with my feet. I wiggled my toes occasionally. I can do this. The tree that Rosalie had felled wasn't in sight yet. That was worrisome. I had to turn my whole body to look back at the cabin through the trees. Seeing it, cosy and snug in the distance was a great comfort to me. At least I could get back if worse came to worst. But the way it called to me to return to it was annoying.

I lost count of the steps sometime after that. I also lost feeling in my feet. No, that's not right, the feeling in my feet was gone for a short time, but then the dull pain came after that. As the cold crept past my ankles, stealing its way up my legs, I saw the tree ahead. You know the one, right? The one with the cross embedded in it? That one. I forced my rebellious legs to move more quickly toward that goal.

It was about halfway, right? Wasn't it? Distances were so hard to judge with Rosalie. I clambered up the tree to my seat, my legs grateful for the break, but still feeling no warmer, and looked back.

No cabin.

This was not good. I looked harder.

Still no cabin.

I looked down and was relieved to see my trail was clear in the snow. It was a bright day today, which meant it was cold, but that also meant I could see where I was going and where I had come from. The still air still moved enough to touch my eyeballs and the slight raccoon line of skin my sweater scarf didn't cover. It also was seeping under both sweaters now: the one on my head and the one I actually wore as a shirt. Somehow the knit wasn't tight enough to entirely block it out. It felt like tendrils of cold were insinuating themselves into and then under my skin.

I looked ahead. I couldn't see the outhouse.

Hm. I didn't expect this turn of events. I had thought all I needed to do was to reach the tree, then all I would need to do is to go to the outhouse from there. So now what?

Didn't Rosalie drop the tree across the path from the cabin to the outhouse? I thought so, but I couldn't quite remember the exact angle, and I couldn't see the 'path' that Rosalie traversed with ease. Couldn't I be forgiven for being a bit preoccupied at the time, spinning through the air and then having a tree land right next to me? I wish I had paid more attention then for my situation now, but as much as I tried to be angry at me then, how could I have planned for the next day when I didn't even know, at the time, that I had one more minute?

Go back, or go forward?

Going back would do nothing for my now more pressing condition. I mean, what's the whole point of me being out here if I just turned back? Besides, I was about halfway, right?

I slid off the tree on the other side, took a few steps forward, and then took in the whole tree, end-to-end. I adjusted my direction a bit, using myself, and the tree to draw a line to where the outhouse should be, and marched off, not looking back.

I thought I heard the tree laughing at me as I walked away. The cold that hadn't left me, even as I sat on the tree, wormed its way up from my legs into my midsection, working its way toward my heart.

A/N: Lester Joseph "George" Gillis (December 6, 1908—November 27, 1934) was a hot-headed bankrobber, Catholic and devoted family man, who died from bullet wounds in a shoot-out with FBI agents near Chicago. The phrase attributed to him is from the character in the movie O Brother, Where Art Thou? produced by the Coen brothers.