Disclaimer: I still don't own Twilight.

Unbelievably, I made it through the week to the end of the day on Friday. I felt vaguely as if I had blinked and the school week had disappeared. My Monday deadline was looming ever-closer with each passing day, but at the same time, I had been surprised by how quickly I had fallen into a sort of tense routine with my new vampire chaperone.

Edward picked me up and drove me to school everyday. Charlie met him at the door with the token grumble, but he did not say anything further when he was in Edward's presence. On Friday evening, after the work week was over, Charlie had tried to talk to me about my situation and the agreement that I had made with Edward. He had tried to talk to me about my agreement with Edward and to come up with a way for me to escape him.

"How has he been at school? Has he been behaving himself?"

"Yes, Dad. He's been alright," I said sincerely. I had gotten the ongoing sense of push and pull with Edward, of trying to claw some control back from him through verbal sparring. I was always somewhat worried that I would go to far. Sometimes his eyes would darken behind the contacts, his expression turned predatory, and his words would darken into a sort of growl that sent chills down my spine. Most of the time, though, he reacted with even some degree of polite interest, and sometimes I even got to see some flashes of humor. It wasn't inherently unpleasant to spend so much time with him, though I sometimes felt as if I were getting the third degree when it came to the questioning. It turned out, perhaps in an effort to make up for not being able to read my mind, that Edward had a lot of questions and was very nosy. I had been trying to use this to my advantage, exchanging a question for a question, though I still felt like there was much more information to know about him than I had been able to glean in a series of lunchtime conversations.

"Are other people paying attention to you two?" Charlie asked.

I shrugged. "I think they're noticing that the new girl is hanging out with the youngest Cullen," I answered honestly. "I'm not sure that they're thinking that much more than that." Well, aside from the fact that they seem to think that we have scheduled a time to have sex with each other. That rumor had spread like wildfire, unsurprisingly. Jessica hadn't even known what to say, and had, apparently, been so envious that she hadn't even brought it up directly with me, to my intense surprise. Instead, she had started leaving little comments and digs in there about how I obviously knew the Cullens really well — as if that was possible in the span of less than a week.

"What if you just got on a plane and got out of here, kid? I'm sure that Renee would be happy to have you back."

Blood.

Screams.

Murder.

Immediately, in my mind's eye, I could see a pile of bodies lining up on the sidewalk outside of Forks High School. My father's was at the top.

Just then, there was a strange sound outside the kitchen window: a loud, violent snapping. Charlie had gotten up to peer into the darkness beyond the window. He frowned.

"It looks like one of those huge tree branches just fell. Glad it didn't hit the house. I knew I should have had the tree trimmers come last year. These old trees…" he said, shaking his head before returning to his spot at the kitchen table, grabbing his empty beer can and heading towards the fridge to find himself another.

The timing of that sound had been too coincidental, combined with my new understanding I had built up about my vampire guard.

"Excuse me for a minute," I said softly, then, steeling myself, walked out of the kitchen and out the front door. I knew I would have to explain this to Charlie later, which may cause more challenges to me, but I suspected that I needed to smooth over the situation before any other trees — or worse — were damaged around my house.

My heartbeat rang in my ears as I stepped away from the light off the kitchen window and into the shadows around the garage, edging along the building as if the proximity to the structure would give me some comfort. I had not bothered to turn the garage light on, and found it to be a strange psychological experience to be walking out into the darkness trying to meet a monster.

"Edward?" I called softly. It was the first time that I had acknowledged that I knew that he had been staking my house out at night. For some reason, I had not been able to bring myself to do so in our conversations over the course of the week. I had, instead, forced myself to pretend as if I had privacy from the moment that I shut the front door behind me after the day of school. He had not, to my knowledge, intruded into my home life much thus far, but the damage to the tree, if I was right, suggested a break in that pattern.

Even though I had been expecting it, I couldn't keep myself from skittering a step back when he appeared before me. In the darkness, I could only barely see the outline of him and the pale reflection of his skin.

He was standing very close to me, closer than he tended to unless he was annoyed with me. Over the course of the week, I had determined that the physical space generally he gave me usually meant something. Often, he kept a polite, neutral distance, but now he was encroaching on my physical space. He did not touch me, but he loomed over me.

"Yes?" he asked, his voice a silken, dangerous purr.

I swallowed. Clearly, the vampire was not in a good mood.

"If you could refrain from harming the forest around my house, I would appreciate it," I said tersely.

"I though snapping a branch would have been preferable to snapping your father's neck, but I can reprioritize in the future." His voice was very nearly a growl, and it made my stomach flip.

"Please don't joke about that."

"I am completely serious."

I bit my lip, wondering if there was anything that I could do to diffuse the situation. I felt his icy fingertips then, pulling my lip from between my teeth with the barest of pressures, tracing over the edge of my jaw just slightly, running down my neck to the collar of my sweatshirt. Chills followed his touch. I stepped back from him, but my back hit the closed garage door with a thud. He chuckled.

"You can't escape me," he said, and there was that same, dark deadliness in his tone, marred with the humor. It was sick.

I swallowed, glaring at him though I couldn't see him. "If you'd been paying attention this week, you'd know that I don't intend to try."

He leaned closer, his cool breath washing over my throat as he whispered against my neck. "I will follow you to Tampa after I kill your father."

I brought my hands up to push against his shoulders, wanting some space. It was like pushing against a brick wall.

"I'm not going to Florida." My words were strong, louder than his, said out towards the night and the forest around us.

"Your father thinks you should." His lips were on my skin now, brushing over the pulse point of my neck with his words. I squirmed, and he pressed his body against mine to still me against the garage door. I felt the dampness from the afternoon drizzle begin to seep through my clothes.

"Charlie doesn't get a say."

"He thinks otherwise." Something brushed against my skin — his nose? — and I heard him inhale slowly and deeply. My heart thudded in my chest. It was the closest he had been to me since he had cut into the skin of my neck on Monday.

"Edward," I said, trying to keep my voice calm and neutral. It came out too loud, even to my own ears.

Something cool and wet was on my neck then. His tongue? I tried to squirm away from him, but felt his arms on either side of me, trapping me against the door.

"You're scaring me." My voice, which had been too loud before, was a whisper now. His mouth was most definitely on my skin. I swallowed.

Is he in control?

"Tell me I can drink, Bella," he murmured, and it sounded like he was trying to convince me, then he said, "A week is too long."

My fears were realized. The vampire was hungry.

I wondered why he wasn't just taking it, then. Why was he doing this? His nose was back on my skin, inhaling again.

I remembered the bruise that had only just faded enough for me to wear tops that didn't cover my throat.

"Not here, please." My clothes were damp. I was dark and cold and scared, and My heart thudded in my throat. A strange buzzing started. It almost gave me a heart attack.

I heard a low oath in my ear, whispered so quietly that I almost didn't hear it despite the proximity of Edward's mouth. Then, to my surprise, he had pulled back. His hands still pressed against the garage on either side of me.

It took me longer than it should have to realize that the buzzing sound was his phone ringing in his pocket. I swallowed.

"Are you going to answer that?" I asked after what felt like a long time.

"No."

I was reeling. Some of my fear had diminished slightly now that his mouth was not on my skin, but as I stood, waiting for him to resume what he had been doing, I noticed that he had not moved.

The phone stopped ringing. The silence of the night seemed impenetrable for one long, indeterminate breath, then the phone started once more.

I hazarded a guess, something falling into place.

"Alice?"

"In all likelihood." His voice had changed. Gone was the soft, dark purr. Now, he just sounded annoyed.

Then, suddenly, he had pushed back from the garage and taken a few steps from me. I blinked, feeling that his presence was gone.

I felt stupid and weak as I stared out into the darkness, not able to see him, though I suspected he hadn't gone far. The vampire had been battling his control, had been about to take my blood from me early.

He was hungry.

It was only Friday. We had agreed on one week, which would make it to the following Monday. If this was how his control was on Friday, I feared how he would act on Monday. Would I encounter the same, deadly, uncontrolled predator that I had the previous Monday night? The one who had kidnapped my father, the one who had had to hold his breath in order to be in the same room with him without leaping on me?

Was a week too long?

"Edward?" I called once more into the darkness.

There was a beat of silence, then "Yes."

He sounded as if he was some distance away, likely in the perimeter of the trees.

I swallowed. "I really hate that I'm saying this," I said shakily, and felt every fiber of my being protest. It was, in fact, evolutionarily stupid of me to say these words, to even be offering, to not be trying to flee or fight the situation, and yet I knew that I was without recourse, "but I'm wondering if it would be safer if we didn't wait until Monday."

I had almost offered to do it tonight, but did not want Charlie to worry again. I had, for the most part, adopted a need-to-know policy when it came to Charlie, aside from telling him the details of my initial deal that had saved his life. I had not told him all of the vampire's myriad of strengths, nor had I shared the overwhelming fears I felt. He had said he would go visit his friend Billy Black tomorrow, and I knew I would have the ability to slip away unnoticed then.

Quiet met my words for one beat, then, "Explain."

"What if we did it tomorrow?" I whispered. "I'm guessing you're hungry. You seemed to have more control earlier in the week. If we do it tomorrow, it might be safer."

I let out a gasp as his lips were on my throat once more, his cold arms around my body gripping just a little too tightly, a dark chuckle in my ear sending shivers down my spine.

"I would be a fool to say no to that," he said, and I felt his tongue run over my skin once more. Then he had released me, had apparently darted back a dozen yards, and sounded far away again when he said, "Tomorrow, then."

I nodded, collapsing against the garage door again. He had been manipulating me like a doll, picking me up and tossing me around as if I were spineless, and I suddenly found it challenging to stay on my feet when he discarded me.

"If you really want me to wait until tomorrow, you should go inside now," he called again after a moment.

I nodded, pushing myself more upright and holding my hand against the wall for a moment, then, keeping my hand on the wall for support, I turned away from him and walked back to the front door, letting myself into the warm entry shakily and going through the motions of locking the door against him. I suspected was psychological more than anything else, and could imagine the ghostly, sinister chuckle in the dark as I did so.

"I'm going to bed, Dad," I said as I walked through the kitchen. Charlie looked surprised. I didn't know what expression was on my face, but I was sure it wouldn't have been very convincing when I said, "not feeling well. Goodnight."

He called something unintelligible towards me, but I wasn't paying any attention.

I made my way up the stairs on shaky legs, stripped out of my wet clothing and pulled on my t-shirt and sweatpants with leaden arms before collapsing into bed. I didn't even have the energy to brush my teeth, but I couldn't help but bring a hand up to my throat where his mouth had been, feeling the warmth of my palm there as if it could burn away the memory of his icy touch.

The next morning, I stayed in bed until I heard Charlie leave to go to Billy's, mid-morning. He had come in to check on me at one point, and, as it was really my first weekend in Forks, I was a teenager, and I was processing the fact that I had a new agreement with a vampire, he seemed to think it reasonable that I was staying in bed through the mid-morning.

It wasn't until I heard the front door close downstairs that I got out of bed. I wasn't sure when Edward would come for me — in fact, I had been surprised that he hadn't come yet — and I took the unexpected opportunity to shower and dress in jeans and a comfortable t-shirt, throwing my favorite sweatshirt over it. What did one wear when they were preparing for a day of bloodletting with a vampire?

It was only once I had gone downstairs and had finished eating a bowl of cereal that I heard the doorbell ring. I wondered, irreverently, if I ought to get a key made for Edward. It would save me the steps, at least.

I felt as if I was marching to the gallows as I walked through the entryway. I was sure that he could hear that my heart was thudding unevenly in my chest, and I felt vaguely as if I was near to hyperventilating.

The first thing that I noticed when I opened the door was that he had forgone his contacts, apparently. His eyes were dark again, a deep maroon color. He had, over the course of the week we had spent together, explained to me that the color of his eyes reflected how recently he had eaten. Black meant he was very hungry. I took the maroon to mean that he was getting there.

"What have you had to eat today?" he asked, and the fact that he had foregone his usual politeness and greeting was indication enough that he was impatient.

"Um, a bowl of cereal."

He seemed to weigh that for a moment. "Do you have any juice here?"

"Yes."

He stepped inside and closed the door. I stepped back from him, my anxiety making me feel as if I was going to be sick.

"We're doing it here?" I asked. My voice was a squeak. For some reason, I had thought that he would take me back to his house.

"Does it matter?"

"I guess not."

I was staring at him, frozen under the intensity of his gaze and the strange, business-like manner that he was addressing me. He was nearly terse today, and underneath the surface I sensed that there was a coil wound tightly, ready to spring back and hit me.

"You should go lie down," he said coolly.

Something in me cracked. Somehow, somewhere, some of my resolve had left me.

"Please," I whispered, and saw something in his face tighten. Tears had sprung from my eyes, streaming down my face. "Please don't do this."

I had realized that, despite what he had done the night before, I hadn't really thought that he was going to do it again. The strange conversations we had been able to have over the course of the past week had made me think that maybe he would be reasonable, that maybe I could reason with him.

"Go lie down, Bella," he repeated, and under the icy tone I could tell again that his control was barely-contained.

I moved. He hadn't specified where he wanted me, so I chose to go upstairs to my bed. This would be better, I told myself, on the off chance that Charlie came home from Billy's early and I didn't want to move.

I moved slowly up the stairs, aware of each silent step that he took behind me, but the only sound that I could hear was my sniffles and my breath coming in gasps.

I tried to remember what Alice had said about predator and prey, tried to remember the feeling of calm that I had, at least somewhat, maintained going into this situation the last time. I couldn't muster it now, though, and once I made it to my bedroom, I found that I couldn't help but whirl and try to push past him.

I knew it was stupid. I understood, intellectually, at least, if not instinctively, that there was no way that I could outrun him or outfight him, but I hadn't really had the opportunity to experience it yet. Now, he caught me easily, a low snarl breaking through his teeth, and he tossed me onto the bed so quickly that it left me reeling.

He was on top of me then, and I couldn't help but try to struggle away from him.

"Stop fighting," he snarled, and it made me freeze. He had pinned me once more, his torso angled over my body so that I was pressed down into the bed by it, the weight and hardness and cool temperature surprising given how approximately human he appeared.

I was trembling violently. Through the tears, I could see that he had dragged my arm up and pushed my sleeve up to expose the delicate skin of my wrist. There was a part of me that was surprised that it wasn't my neck this time, especially given his actions the previous night.

His eyes flickered to mine, just once, and there was the image of the predator once more, pupils dilated, eyes narrowed in intense focus.

I tried once more, my voice a whisper. "Please don't do this."

I whined through my teeth as his fingernail cut into the skin, and then I felt his mouth on me. It was a strange pain, burning and sucking and pressure and it was so acute in the one particular area of my body. I tried to move away from it, and he wrapped his legs over my own, pressing his lower body against mine and into the bed.

I was, suddenly, aware of something else.

In addition to the vampire that was pinning me to the bed, pulling blood from my body in sharp, piercing pain, he also had the body of a man and I was pinned under him. I remembered, briefly, that he had straddled me that previous time he had drank, and now I couldn't help but feel that I could feel too much of him.

I squirmed, and he tightened his legs around my own, causing his lower body to angle against mine even more.

All this while the pain was intense on my wrist, soldering. The only thing that I could do was bring my other hand up and place it on his shoulder. I couldn't even push him off.

The only thing that took away from this new discomfort at his position was the fact that he seemed totally concerned with drinking.

It took me longer than it perhaps should have to settle in to the sensation of being totally helpless. In that time, my tears continued, my discomfort at our position and the nearness of his body remained. It was only once the helplessness truly hit me — not only that, but that it hit me and I accepted it, sank into it — that I began to feel something else.

The pain in my wrist was sharp, prodding, and this, combined with the utter helplessness I felt made waves of some indescribable feeling flow over me. I wasn't sure if it was adrenaline or something else that had taken on some sort of pleasant edge, warm and numbing, almost the sensation of sinking into a hot bath. It was subtle, and I stared up at the ceiling, at my hand on the vampire's shoulder above me and wondered momentarily what it was. It kept me still and calm, though the tears were still falling, and he grip on me relaxed slightly as I stopped moving for what felt like a few minutes. What was going on in my body? What had just happened that had helped me relax into this strange, awful sensation?

Then, the room felt as if it were spinning, and the nausea hit me.

None too soon, I felt something — his tongue? — seal over the wound and he withdrew. He propped himself up on one hand above me to study my face, crimson eyes almost blinding in their new intensity, then rolled off me to sit next to me on the bed. A cool hand was suddenly on my brow, feeling my clammy forehead.

"Are you alright?" His voice was soft.

I felt as if my stomach was rocking back and forth, as if I were seasick. I shook my head mutely and sat up, feeling the room spin. I took a few drunken steps, then felt his hands on my waist, holding me up.

"I think I'm going to be sick." My voice sounded like a croak, and I had to swallow back the telling pre-vomit saliva that had pooled in my mouth.

He helped me to the bathroom. It was surreal to have him there, standing in the doorway of Charlie's tiny bathroom, watching with a newly-concerned expression for my wellbeing as I braced myself with one hand on the edge of the bathroom counter and one hand on the wall above the toilet.

The only thing worse than vomiting was doing so with an audience. "Go away," I managed to whisper angrily, only seconds before I lost my breakfast into the toilet. My head was spinning, the tears were still falling, and I only barely managed to stay upright.

In my periphery, I was only vaguely aware of the fact that Edward had left.

When the dry-heaving settled and I had flushed the toilet, I let myself sink to the floor of the bathroom sitting on the fluffy bathmat, my back against the wall. I put my head between my knees, closing my eyes. The nausea disappeared as quickly as it came, but the lightheadness remained.

"Bella." He was back, speaking softly. "Perhaps you should go lie down."

The distance between my room and the bathroom seemed too great.

"'S too far," I said, muffled against the inside of my knee.

The feeling of cool arms wrapped around me, and I felt sudden movement.

I snapped my eyes open and it took me a moment to realize that he was holding me to his chest, cradling me in his arms, really, and that he was moving me to the bedroom once more. It was over before I even had the chance to protest, before I even had the chance to marvel at the fact that yes, he had just somehow managed to pick me up off the floor and move me as if it were nothing. Then he had pulled back the covers of the bed and placed me under them, holding a cup to my lips.

"Drink." I wasn't sure if it was a request or demand.

I sipped at the edge of the cup being held to my lips and tasted the sweet, spiced drink.

"Where did you get Ginger Ale?" Charlie definitely hadn't had it on hand.

"I stole it from your neighbors."

I frowned. The cup was still held up to my face, but I turned my head away.

"When?"

"When you were vomiting."

That must have only given him about a minute to…"You broke into their house?"

"Yes."

"To steal ginger ale?"

"Yes."

"How did you know that they had some?"

"I could smell the can."

I blinked stupidly at him, then closed my eyes, unable to take his brilliant red gaze any longer. I sank back into the pillows further, feeling the weight of what had just happened wash over me, though my stomach was thankfully settled from its brief bout of nausea. I tried to take comfort in the feeling of my bed and duvet, and tried to not think about the creature that was in the room with me. Maybe if I pretended that this wasn't happening, it would turn out that this was, in fact, all a bad dream.

"You should drink more." His voice interrupted my pretending. I was suddenly annoyed.

"I don't want it. You stole it."

"Drink, Isabella." The voice was nearly a growl now. I considered ignoring him, but wondered if he would be able to go so far as to actually force me to drink.

I opened my eyes and sat up slightly, then held my hand out for the glass. He was sitting on the edge of my bed and handed it to me.

I chugged the rest of the ginger ale, the bubbles hurting my nose but the spicy-sweet flavor getting rid of the last traces of the bile that I could still taste.

He looked at me reproachfully. "I'm sure that will make you feel better."

"Can I not just rest?" I asked, and rather than sounding defiant, I simply sounded tired.

His eyes flicked over me, appraising, and then he nodded. "Fine. I want you to eat something in a little while though."

"Not now," I said, settling back against the pillows and closing my eyes once more.

"No," he murmured, a beat too late. "Not now."

I was, somehow, aware that he was here but managed to block it out, and instead I turned on my side and drifted into a fitful sleep.