A/N: The words flew out of me like I wasn't even the one writing. This is so exciting! We're finally about to get to the idea that started this whole journey. I hope you like this ride it's the longest one yet.
Chapter 8 - Come What MayI open my eyes. It's dark. Pitch black. Not a pinprick of light for my eyes to adjust to. Unlike the last time I'd come to, I'm very aware of what's going on. I've been captured.
The ground jumps and I slide a little, my knees hitting something hard and metal. The whole room is vibrating with some force. For one wild second I think there's an earthquake, but I recognize the movement. I must be in the back of a van.
We're going fast. Too fast - if I could get out (and that was a big if) would I be able to jump out and live? I couldn't think about that now. The first order of business would be to find an escape - there had to be one. Then I could think about jumping out of a moving van.
I felt around blindly in the dark, trying to keep my balance. It wasn't lost on me that I wasn't tied up. That had to mean my captor wasn't worried about me escaping. Well that was fine - I would prove them wrong.
My hands reached out blindly in all directions, searching for something. Anything. They only met dust and dirt on metal. I was hyperventilating again, gasping and wheezing with terror. This was bad. So, so bad.
My hand reached out in front of me again and made contact with something. Pain - bright and shocking surged through me from the point of contact. I yanked away from it and lost my balance, rolling to the side. I lay there for a moment, clutching my hand to me and rasping. The echo of the pain lingered as I nursed my fingertips.
Slowly, carefully, I tried to inspect the damage in the dark. The pain had been sharp - knives? I felt carefully for any damage. Any blood. It was difficult - my skin was covered in a fine dusting of dirt. But no - there didn't seem to be any bleeding, any damage.
Memory flickered. This had happened before. In a place and time that was in such stark contrast to my current situation that I almost laughed. Low lighting lamps, ornate wooden architecture, intricate carvings on books, and … a thin layer of shimmering gold light.
I sat back up, gaining my footing. In a stroke of inspiration, I pulled the shirt off my back and bunched it up in my fingertips. I held it ahead of me, careful to let the fabric lead the way so that my bare fingers touched nothing. I made careful sweeps in the air with my t-shirt shield, searching. For a few moments I met nothing but air, but then - contact. No pain - that was good. I tapped against the structure in random patterns, trying to map it out. It was flat, level. A wall.
I continued in this way, tapping my way around the van. Mapping it. I paid attention to every detail, not wanting to miss anything crucial. After a few moments, the wall angled. A corner, I guessed. I continued on, trying to guess how big my jail was. I went around in a circle. Twice. I found nothing but smooth wall. No divots, no weak points. How was I going to get out?
I began to hyperventilate again, knowing it wasn't helpful but not able to help myself. I went around the van a third time, gasping for air, reaching wildly. Trying to find a way out. Nothing, nothing, nothing. In my haste, I accidentally touched the flat surface with bare skin and jolted back, screaming in pain. I was going to die here. I was going to die here or be taken wherever this car was heading and die there. I wasn't ready to die. I was too young, I hadn't done anything yet, loved anyone yet, I -
Edward. Surely Edward was looking for me. Surely he had noticed I was gone by now - he would've had to notice it minutes after I hadn't come out of the bathroom. Surely he cared about me enough to come get me. Maybe he was already on his way now - he was fast enough to do it. He drove like a maniac.
But then doubt crept it again as I argued with myself. Even if he was coming, how would he know what van I was in, what road I was on. Even if he found me, how would he get me out of a moving vehicle? I started to spiral. I was going to die. I was going to die!
But what was I? A damsel in distress? Waiting to be saved by some prince? No - I was better than that. Smarter than that. I could get myself out of there. I couldn't be in a smooth, doorless box. I had to have been put in here somehow. There had to be a door or a latch. Somewhere, anywhere.
I started my search anew, being more careful this time. Looking for any change in the wall. I went around the space again, another time. A third time. Each time roaming higher, finding a new angle. Determined to - there!
I had found it! A depression in the wall - a mechanism. A latch. I tried to pull at it but I couldn't get my fingers through with the t-shirt protecting me. I wrapped my fingers with the cloth differently, trying to get a grip. I was there, right there, I could do this. I tried again and again. I fit the fabric around me like a glove, using only one layer.
But that was too far, too little coverage, the pain burned through the cotton and I felt a hundred knives stabbing me. I jolted back, clutching my burned fingers, tears bursting through my eyes. I was so close. So close.
I sat there, contemplating. My mind was rushing - I had been here too long. I had to get out before James noticed what I was doing. Time was of the essence. But how, how could I pull the handle when my fingers wouldn't fit through?
I was going to have to touch it, I realized. Bare handed. I was going to have to endure that pain on purpose. Long enough to pull the latch and get out. I blanched at the prospect. It was so painful. The worst I'd ever felt or would feel. I sat there for a long moment, spiraling out, shying away at the prospect. I couldn't do this. I couldn't. I hated pain - I would be the first to say that. I didn't have a high pain tolerance. I didn't even like to eat spicy foods. I laughed. I would take a szechuan peppercorn any day over this.
"Shut up, Bella." I heard myself say, trying my hand at some basic psychology. I was surprised how loud my voice sounded in the loud rush of the speeding van. "Shut up. You're being a baby."
I could do it. I could do it, I could do it, I could -
I shot my hand forward, not giving myself time to think. My aim was off and I missed the latch at first, I cursed, pulling my hand back. But no - if I was going to do this I was going to have to touch for more than a second. I forced my hand to the wall again. Pain - so hot and blazing it burned all thought out of my mind. A thousand sharp knives cutting, digging, burning like hot coal into my flesh. But I forced myself not to let go. I couldn't see so I would have to feel - feel through the pain and find the latch.
I sat with the pain, trying to get used to it. Trying to feel through it. My mind reeled, every thought was consumed with fire. Pinching, piercing, burning. Slash, slash, slash.
I willed myself away from it. To think around it. Feel something, anything. I moved my fingertips, and there - flat. I could tell what I was touching was flat. I could feel something. Finally.
I moved a little to the right - the latch! I pushed my fingertips through, curling them. I pulled. Straining and grunting. I didn't know how much longer I could take this - this burning hot fire. I braced a foot against the wall, giving myself more leverage. It was stuck, or locked. It wasn't budging. I had to put more force behind it. I wrapped my other hand around my wrist, and pulled that way too. Fear began to seep through the fire, mingling and melding with it. I was going to die here. Die feeling the worst pain of my life. Die in the dark here.
No, no, no. I can do this. I will get out. I will live. Pull. Pull, PULL! My every strength was focused on this one movement. I felt my shoulder might dislocate from its socket from the force.
Click.
For just a moment I felt relief. Then the doors blew open, hurling me forward. I held onto the latch for dear life, my body swirling out to the side with it almost falling clean off. Tracks sped out from underneath me and I flailed above them, trying to keep my footing. A train, I realized. Not a van.
The car careened to the right and the door veered forward, pushing me further in. I let go, stumbling backwards into the car.
"Well, well, aren't you clever."
My head turned so quickly it cracked. James was standing there. At the other end of the car. I could see there was a door behind him. Where had he come from? His blonde hair was pulled back - set in place with gel. A stray lock fluttered in the harsh wind of the train speeding by.
Gray orbs stared back at me. I could read the emotion in them now. Amusement. His lips curled upwards on both sides ever so slightly and I saw a patch of exposed teeth glint. A cat watching a mouse. He wasn't afraid of me escaping at all.
"Such a shame, but I can't have my prized blood bag running away on me."
I scooted away from him ever so slightly, trying to do it subtly. Getting closer to the edge of the car where the doors still rattled wildly. If I could get close enough I could jump. At these speeds I would die - or at least be severely injured. Well, I would take my chances with that over whatever James had in store for me.
"Blood bag?" I had to keep him talking.
"It's surprising you've gone this long without anyone mentioning it. Without anyone touching you. You smell so delicious - someone must have noticed."
His words were so quiet in the rushing wind I could barely hear him. And they made no sense either way. I inched backwards again, covering it by shifting to wrap an arm around myself as if I was cold from the wind.
I had to keep him talking. "How is your father?"
For the first time, I saw James' smile fade. HIs lips pressed into a thin line. The look in his cold gray eyes then was menacing. I had struck a chord.
"Don't you dare talk about my father, you dirty sl-"
A deafening roar sounded through the cabin then. We both looked up and my entire body shook with relief. A breath I wasn't aware I had been holding escaped me in a rush.
Edward, Edward, Edward. It was all I could think. All I could feel. I murmured his name, the sound caressing my lips like a prayer. Edward.
He was running, almost flying across the tracks. We had to be traveling at least 100 mph and he was keeping up - no, he was gaining on us. Never mind how absurd that was. I could barely see his arms and legs as they pumped at extraordinary speeds, propelling him forward. I didn't care that it didn't make sense. That it was impossible. A cry escaped my lips and I reached out a hand toward him.
James was on me, pulling me back. His hands were like fire and I screamed at the burn. I looked to him in horror. His hands had a light yellow glow to them - that same shimmer. Knives cut into my forearm and I let out a cry. The corner of James' lips curved upward in a sneer.
I heard that voice in my mind again. Snarling, growling, ripping. Anger and concern. 'Jump, jump.' I could hear through the snarling. 'Jump, and I'll catch you.'
I pulled away from the pain, through it. "Let me go!"
James ignored me. "I've claimed this one," he said to Edward. He pulled at me, trying to drag me further into the cabin, away from the edge, away from Edward. But I resisted.
"She is no one's," Edward ground out. He was 50 feet away now, still gaining. I had to get away. Get away and jump. But James' grip was so tight, so painful. I tried to think back, to call on some memory that would help me get out of this situation. But I had never taken a self defense class. Never -
A thought occurred to me. SING. Solar Plexus, Instep, Nose… Groin. Hadn't I watched Miss Congeniality religiously as a child? No - that was ridiculous. I had no idea if that was a real technique or not. But that did give me an idea - groin. I knew that would do some damage.
James was speaking again, pulling me toward the back. HIs eyes were locked on Edward - 'I was none of his concern,' he was saying. 'Inconsequential.'
His focused was wholly on Edward. He wouldn't notice it coming, I was sure of it. And I needed every advantage I could muster. I adjusted my stance, trying to get the best angle. He noticed nothing, just like I had predicted. And then … I shoved my knee as hard as I could right into his groin.
He yowled like a cat and let go on instinct, and I was running. Everything was in slow motion, adrenaline pumping, head throbbing. My breath came in loud pants and I didn't look back. I just focused on those bright green eyes - my destination, my savior, my home. I didn't even notice when I reached the edge of the carriage and flew out, James' claws grasping at thin air where I had just been moments ago.
I slammed into my target with incredible force and looked up into his bright green eyes. Emeralds, fireflies, absinthe, home.
An outraged howl echoed in the distance.