My rage dulled a bit with the sudden, black humor. I could imagine how the girl would react to my kidnapping her. Of course, I rarely guessed her reactions right—but what other reaction could she have besides terror?

I wasn't sure how to manage that, though—kidnapping her. I wouldn't be able to stand being close to her for very long. Perhaps I would just deliver her back to her mother. Even that much would be fraught with danger. For her.

And also for me, I realized suddenly. If I were to kill her by accident… I wasn't certain exactly how much pain that would cause me, but I knew it would be multifaceted and intense.

In my dream it was very dark, and what dim light there was seemed to be radiating from Edward's skin. I couldn't see his face, just his back as he walked away from me, leaving me in the blackness. No matter how fast I ran, I couldn't catch up to him; no matter how loud I called, he never turned. Troubled, I woke in the middle of the night. I kept my eyes closed, trying to finish the dream the way I wanted it—for him to turn around. Even in my imagination, he wouldn't.

No, I pled with dream-Edward. Please stay.

As if in response, my dream suddenly became very real and very cold. Dream-Edward put his hand over my mouth and picked me up with the other arm?

Gooseflesh rose on my arms. There was a sudden, fierce wind, that I suspected was not wind. I was tempted to look around, but I couldn't look away from dream-Edward. After the pain of watching him walk away, the relief I felt to be in his arms was palpable.

Still, this was dream-Edward we were talking about. Although I could now see his face, the theme was entirely the same. For what felt like an eternity, I stared at him, and he stared ahead—entirely unaware of my presence.

I longed to reach out to him, but I could not. I knew that if I reached out, the spell would be broke, and I would wake up. Even with the pain of his negligence was worthwhile for to just be with him.

Over time, however, it began to dawn on me that I was not dreaming. First, my bladder was uncomfortably full. Second, I began to realize how strangely my back was arched in his arms.

When he glanced down at me, the spell was broken. This was not dream-Edward.

This Edward was real.

.

.

.

While it was originally exciting to realize that we weren't dreaming, I began to realize that reality came with a couple caveats. First, my back ached from the strange position I was in. Second, the cold air wasfrigid and whipped at my skin. Third, holy crow was I about to pee my pants.

Without any apparent impetus or humor, Edward laughed. Did I actually pee my pants? I thought, horrified, trying to evaluate if my panties felt wet or not.

I kept my eyes on Edward but he was not looking at me. He was looking at the stars. He seemed sad.

"Ouch, Edward," I gasped. I winced as his grip on my wrist tightened.

I could feel him looking at my wrist, and for the first time that evening—morning?—I felt afraid. I did not know what Edward was, but he was fast, strong, and evidently had a lot on his mind. I knew he would never intentionally hurt me—that much was obvious—but I realized he could very easily and very unintentionally harm me. Why am I here?

I was so disoriented that I almost didn't understand when Edward placed my feet on the soil. It was so bizarre—to see this godlike human glowing in the forest's night, crouched before me.

Why didn't he stand up? I really understood nothing of his bizarre behavior, but I could see for the first time this night that he no longer seemed frightening or aloof. Rather, he seemed scared.

He was scared? I snorted, "What the hell?" which only made me laugh harder because, let's be honest, this stupid dream has been its own hell. My unintentional pun got me laughing because, I realized, things haven't been normal since Tyler's van almost squished me. What if Tyler Crowley's van had actually hit me, and now I was dead? Is this what hell is like? It didn't seem so bad if I got to have Edward with me.

"Stop that." I swatted at his hands which anxiously fluttered at me to make sure I'm okay.

He dropped his hands, but he just kept staring at me.

It made me babbly. "I'm fine, really, just a little surprised. What brought this on?"

"You're in danger from some people, and I need to keep you safe. I'm sorry for hurting your wrist."

"Oh, that," I muttered, absent-mindedly looking at the five little bruises which blossomed above my elbow. .

"Yes, that," he retorted, wrapping the wrist in his ice cold grasp.

His touch shocked me, and then he was gone. What the…

Was he that upset about the wrist? "It's okay, really," I called out.

I heard him laugh again. The sound sent chills down my spine—they were not of the cheerful sort.

I could see him in the distance, now. I could see that he was walking toward me. I wanted to walk toward him, too, but I was frozen. The intensity in his gaze held me motionless. His gait did not seem like that of a human being.

No, I could see it now—Edward Cullen walked like a predator, and he was coming straight toward me.

If I were being honest with myself, here is the honest-to-goodness truth: I was terrified.

Something about Edward Cullen is not human.

Not just that but that something is terrifying me.

It was glorious, too, however. My mind flashed back to the day I'd first seen them, the Cullens walking into the school cafeteria. Of course, it seemed so obvious now. How had I described them? Inhuman.

I stared into his black eyes. He held out his index finger, mouthing something at me. Honestly, I have no idea what he said, but I recognized the finger as "wait."

As if I could do anything else, anyways. I was hypnotized by him, watching with horror as he crouched once more to the floor. He spread out his palms on the ground, and then he took a deep breath in.

A loud bang! sounded as Edward Cullen shoved his arms into the ground, his eyes rolling back in his head.

"Edward! Are you in pain?" I longed to speak, but my throat was broken.

Slowly, so as to avoid startling him, I drew one foot in front of me.

"No, Bella," His voice was so soft, I couldn't be sure of it. .

Gauging his reaction, I slowly prompted, "So someone wants to kill me, huh?"

"Yes, but I won't let him." Who? Him? Why? Why me?

I snorted. "Why not?" I mean he obviously wasn't too pleased about saving me from that dumb van.

This was evidently the wrong thing to say. His eyes burned with hatred, and I wanted to shrink back. My heart was pounding.

"I don't want you to die, Bella."

Literally nothing Edward Cullen does or says makes any sense. To hate me so intensely, to save my life, to kidnap me, to hurt me—nothing added up. I don't want you to die, Bella, he said it with such intensity…

I wondered if the van was not the first time that my life was at stake around Edward Cullen.

I peeked up at him one more time, and regretted it. He was glaring down at me again, his black eyes full of revulsion. As I flinched away from him, shrinking against my chair, the phrase if looks could kill suddenly ran through my mind.

But Edward Cullen's back stiffened, and he turned slowly to glare at my – his face was absurdly handsome – with piercing, hate-filled eyes. For an instant, I felt a thrill of genuine fear, raising the hair on my arms.

I couldn't fathom his interest, but he continued to stare at me with penetrating eyes, as if my dull life's story was somehow vitally important.

I stared because their faces, so different, so similar, were all devastatingly, inhumanly beautiful.

"Was that the boy I sat next to in Biology?" – "Yes, he looked like he was in pain or something."

I was relieved that I had the desk to myself, that Edward was absent. I told myself that repeatedly. But I couldn't get rid of the nagging suspicion that I was the reason he wasn't there.

He'd seemed engrossed in our conversation, but now I could see, from the corner of my eye, that he was leaning away from me again, his hands gripping the edge of the table with unmistakable tension.

And I was suspicious of him; why should he lie about his eyes?

But more clearly than all the yelling, I could hear Edward Cullen's low, frantic voice in my ear. "Bella? Are you alright?"

"Bella, I was standing with you, and I pulled you out of the way." He unleashed the full, devastating power of his eyes on me, as if trying to communicate something crucial.

Oh, I thought, and the pieces suddenly fell together.

It seemed so obvious now.

Edward Cullen did not hate me, nor was he bipolar.

No, Edward Cullen was dangerous.

"I don't want you to die, Bella."

I felt crazy for saying it, but it was also crazy that I was stranded in the forest this man. It's crazy but I was now convinced. Whatever Edward Cullen was, it wanted to kill me.

Everything I'd seen in the past couple weeks shifted sideways, and I saw the huge effort with which Edward, the human side, tried to keep me alive. It was so difficult for him, and it was difficult for him now.

I could not afford to fear him now, I realized. He was already afraid enough for the two of us. No, what he needed was my confidence and support.

I'll be honest that it wasn't easy to give. Edward Cullen was terrifying. He walked like the leopards Phil watches on Nature Planet. A predator, tightly wound. I realized if Edward Cullen were to attack me, it would be quick- so quick that I may not even see it coming.

It was silly, but the thought gave me a lot of comfort. He didn't want me to die, and I heard the implicit implication behind it: "I don't want to hurt you." No, if Edward Cullen killed me, it would not be intentional, and I honestly had no idea how he would do it, but I believed he would try to make it painless.

"So what now, then?"

With my acceptance of the fact that Edward Cullen was indeed not entirely human, and that he was not entirely safe, I began to wonder what exactly he might be.

You would think my mind would run to alien conspiracy theories, or at least werewolves or vampire kind of stuff, but all I could think of was the way he stalked toward me.

It seemed silly to me now to even suppose that Edward Cullen would be any variation of something on TV. The only thing on TV even close to what I've seen today Predator Versus Prey on the nature channel. He was the lion, of course, and I wasn't even graceful enough to be considered a gazelle.

Edward blinked and asked, "Can you walk?"

I nodded blindly.

Without saying a word, Edward Cullen walked away from me.

.

.

.

I did my best to follow. He moved so quickly, I was so tired, and I still really needed to urinate. I stumbled often, and I was constantly out of breath. It was an ironic and painful reminder of my dream the night before. I couldn't take it.

"Edward, can we talk about this?" Please respond, please respond, please respond.

"What do you want to talk about?" His voice snapped like a whip.

I snapped in response. "We're in the middle of nowhere! How long are you thinking of making us walk for? And why? It's not like someone could find us here in the middle of nowhere! Besides, who is putting us in danger? I'm a nobody! I'm sure it's fine. Let's just go home, okay?" It was all I could do to keep from shouting.

"Bella, you don't know what you're talking about."

How infuriating! I could no longer refrain from shouting.

"Then tell me! Please! Just tell me what's going on." I took a deep breath. "You can trust me."

He winced, as if I'd insulted him.

"I'm sorry, Bella." He turned to walk away again.

"No!" My jump to grab his arm was not intentional; it was instinctive. Even with how dangerous I knew he was, I couldn't bear to have him walk away from me again.

Unfortunately, he swung his arm out of my grasp just before I touched him. Fortunately, although the gesture knocked me off balance, Edward didn't let me fall.

"Please," I whispered. I hated it. I felt weak and stupid and pathetic, but I couldn't bring myself to care anymore. I was exhausted and scared, and I didn't want to be in the dark anymore.

He looked away from me, and I took advantage of the opportunity to breathe and think straight.

"Bella, I trust you inexorably. It is not that." I rolled my eyes. "But I'm dangerous Bella, I'm dangerous, and Jasper is too, and—"

That was unexpected. Jasper? But… Why?

"Your… Your brother is trying to kill me?"

"Yes, I made a mistake, and—"

Mistake? "You mean when you saved my life?"

"Yes, I—"

"So you regret it?" I can't keep up with this man.

"No, I mean—"

"Honestly, Edward, I don't know why you even bother."

"I, Bella—I told you." My eyes narrowed. Done. I was one hundred and fifty percent done with this conversation. "Bella, I don't want you to die."

His eyes searched mine, and I realized he was pleading with me. What an ironic duo—this predator pleading with his prey. Still, I didn't understand what he was pleading for.

"Is that such a difficult thing to prevent, Edward?" Tell me, Edward. Explain it to me. Help me understand. I can help, I know I can.

He winced. "Unimaginably so."

In what way? Why? I wanted to shout. Instead, I nodded and asked, "Okay, what can I do to help?"

"What can you do to help?" I think he asked God. His laughter was a little unhinged, though, so maybe he was asking Satan.

Not for the first time, I wondered idly just what Edward Cullen was.

He laughed again, his hands very tight on my arms. I breathed through the pain.

"Yes! I mean, if I'm going to die, don't I at least get a say in how it happens?"

"You're not going to die, Bella." Yet with his tone of voice and tight hold on my upper arm you'd think he'd said, You're going to die, Bella.

"I'm not an idiot, Edward. Just tell me what's going on!"

He let go of my forearms, and he looked like he was in pain. Shaking his head, he lifted his index finger for the second time. Wait. But this time, he did not crouch to the ground.

No, he was close enough to feel my breath, and I realized that I could not feel his. Edward Cullen did not breathe.

I hyperventilated as the frozen man lifted his hands and cupped my face. His eyes bore into mine, and I could not move. I was a deer stuck in headlights.

He opened his mouth, and took a quick breath in.

Edward fell, and I couldn't help it.

"Edward," I gasped, stepping forward to right him.

But I don't think it was Edward anymore. The man was crouched over like Lupin in Harry Potter, his hands choking as they contracted in the spot just between my shoulders and neck. His eyes were not fixed on mine anymore—they stared blankly into something I could not see.

I wanted to cry not for myself but for the poor boy who I had done this to. I suddenly understood the hatred and vitrol directed at me those first few days. Who was I to turn this sweet, gentle boy into this terrifying monster?

"I'm sorry." I could not get out more than a whisper.

It—I refused to think of it as Edward—laughed. "Sorry? Why in the world should you be sorry?" It laughed again. "I'm sorry, Bella. Okay? I'm sorry! I tried to save you! I tried! I can't! I can't do this anymore. I can't save you. I keep trying and it is hell and God what did I just do? What am I doing?

"I'm not like this, I swear. I never was. I have impeccable control. I was second best—Carlisle is better, but I'm good, Bella, I swear I am. I'm not like this. I don't want to kill you."

I couldn't even worry about myself anymore. All I could do was care about and try to help this poor beast-child-man to overcome this. His breath flew in and out even faster than my own, and I wondered if his body was capable of fainting.

Hand trembling, I lifted my hand to hold his own. "You can do it, Edward," I whispered, not sure what I was giving him permission to do. How calmly could I discuss my own death!

"No, I can't. I won't."