Author's Note: DollyBigThanks to DollyBigMomma and her sharp beta mind for fixing my shocking overuse of "I realized" and untangling the twisty-turny awkward sentences.

Warning for some blood and stuff.

*Note: Email notifications were down when Chapter 18 was posted, so make sure you've read that before you start this one!*


- Chapter 19: Whitewater -

For just the briefest of moments, I was aware of nothing, as though all my senses were smothered in thick cotton.

Then, the wave of nausea hit, followed by a pounding ache that throbbed from the back of my head out over my consciousness in time to my heartbeat.

I instinctively leaned over to one side as I retched, bringing up the last remnants of those damn gin rickeys. The vile liquid splattered over the rough floor, but I managed to lean my knees to one side enough that I didn't get the vomit on my legs.

I stayed slumped over my thighs for a moment, panting. My mind was beginning to catch up to reality now, though it felt like being dragged through thick mud. I blinked, staring at the ground.

Dusty wood floorboards, roughhewn and old.

I raised my gaze, and the movement of my eyes made the world tilt. I swallowed hard, wincing at the taste of acid coating my tongue.

It was a small, primitive room that smelled of mildew and wet earth. A trapper's cabin, I thought, or maybe a shed. Plank walls. No furniture, no hearth. A hint of grey early morning light came from somewhere behind me, though I wasn't sure I could turn my head just yet to try to look for the window.

I couldn't feel my hands or feet, I realized; they were tied to the chair I noticed I was sitting on. I tried flexing my fingers—pins and needles. Well, at least there was some blood flow.

This is bad, I thought with a strange sort of detachment.

I forced my torso to straighten until I hit the back of the chair. The movement sent waves of sharp pain through my head, and I had to close my eyes for a moment to ride through it.

What was the last thing I remembered?

Dancing with Jacob. Leah teasing him, and then the ladies' room.

The raid, and Jacob's head above the crowd. Climbing the stairs, and then sprinting through the streets.

The waterfront, quiet and empty. The gentle sound of waves on rock, a sudden deeper splash.

A blow to the back of my head. Cold arms around my waist. And then…nothing.

I sucked in a breath. Someone—or, perhaps more likely, something—had kidnapped me from Port Angeles. And only one name came to mind in that moment.

Antoinette.

I felt myself starting to hyperventilate as a thrill of fear raced down my spine. She was going to kill me.

No, I told that small, terrified animal inside me. I had to stay calm. If she—or whoever had taken me—was planning to kill me, I'd be dead already.

I opened my eyes again, forcing down the terror. I needed to get my bearings.

Carefully, I turned my head as far as I could. Yes, there was a window. It was smeared with grime, but I could make out the tall, thick pines pressing up against the cabin wall.

A forest, then. That wasn't surprising. And somewhere close enough to Port Angeles for Antoinette to have brought me here in a matter of hours—it wasn't quite yet sunrise, and it had been somewhere after midnight when the police had showed up at the Sawdust Club.

Unless I'd been unconscious for more than a day.

No, that didn't seem likely, I decided—though I had drawn that conclusion less on logic and more from a sheer unwillingness to believe otherwise.

God, this was the worst time for my mind to be so sluggish. I desperately needed to think faster. I wished I had someone to plan with, like Alice and Edward had been able to—

"Alice," I whispered into the empty room. Edward had said she couldn't see my future when I was with the Pack, but surely I was far enough from them now. Was she watching for me?

Clearing my throat stung, and I was suddenly hyper-aware of how dry my mouth was. "Alice, if you can see me, I need help," I said hoarsely.

My head still ached, but I could feel some adrenaline starting to course through me, making the pain fade into the background. What else could I say that would give her clues?

"I was in Port Angeles with some of the Pack, but we were separated." I hesitated, aware of the fury that would ignite in Edward if he was able to see me talking in Alice's mind. "I was down by the water, trying to find them, when someone hit me from behind. I think it was—"

A cold chill ran down my spine as a phrase suddenly floated to the surface of my memory.

"Lupus in fabula," I murmured. Speak of the devil.

Damn it all, if it was Antoinette who had kidnapped me, I couldn't rely on speaking.

I closed my eyes in frustration. "Oh, Alice, this feels impossible." My voice was barely a whimper, and I could feel tears rising.

"Think of Alice's gift, Bella."

My eyes flew open at the sound of the voice I most longed to hear, a gentle but firm command that cut through my impending panic, but of course, I was still alone in the cabin. A hallucination, then? Or a particularly strong memory? I wasn't sure.

"How did I say it works?"

She sees the outcomes of decisions, I thought. I conjured up a picture of the two vampires in the study all those weeks ago, Alice's unfocused stare as she watched the potential futures unravel, Edward's lashes sweeping across his cheeks, the tiny flickers of movement behind his pale lids as he made choices, watched the consequences, and amended—over and over and over again.

Choices. I needed to make firm choices. Pick a course of action, any course, and hope against all hope that path would reveal something to Alice that would aid in my rescue.

I set my jaw firmly. I could do this.

First, I needed to get out of this chair before my captor showed up. My hands were bound behind my back, and I didn't think I'd be able to wriggle them loose. My legs were also tied together at the ankle, with one end of the rope attached to the crossbar at the front of the chair.

I looked around the room again; there was nothing on the floor, no shelves or cabinets that might hide something to cut the rope.

Then, I spotted the window, and a plan began to form.

If I could manage to stand up without falling over and find a way to break the glass, I could use the jagged edges to cut myself free. I focused hard on that choice, picturing it in my mind from start to finish three times for good measure.

And once I was free? What would help them find me?

I leaned as far back in the chair as I could to see further out the window. It looked like the trees got gradually taller that way, as though angled up a hillside. The furthest tops had the barest dusting of snow, so we must be at high elevation. If I went up—climbed until I could see some landmark, something to show them where I was—

The door, which I had barely been able to see in the dim cabin, flew open, and for a fraction of a second, there was only a silhouette.

But then she stepped into the room, and my stomach dropped.

Antoinette.

She was muttering to herself, much as she had been during our last encounter. Her hair was still long and loose, floating around the hood of a tattered black cloak lined with scarlet and edged in faded gold trim at hem that skimmed across the floor.

"Useless, useless." I could just make out the words as she slammed the door shut and began to pace the small room. She never even looked at me. "Oh, and they knew, they knew, they planned to shame me. They kept it— all inside, no warning— they'll pay. They'll make them pay."

I found myself holding my breath, desperate to stay still, so she would keep going. I was certain she was talking about the Cullens.

"The child…how could she not…? It was a mistake. They'll regret it. I'll make them regret it."

Her head lifted, and her unfocused, blood red gaze fixed on me. The relief that flooded my veins as I saw the bright color of her eyes was instantly followed by shame. While I was safer because she'd recently fed, I knew it meant a life had been extinguished.

"She knows," Antoinette whispered, the corners of her full lips curling up in a smile that made my palms sweat. "Oh, and they saw it, they'll want to find her. To rip her. To punish." The grin turned manic, all of her impossibly white teeth bared to me. "And I'll give her to them, yes, and he will be mine."

I bit back a gasp as the broken fragments of her words began to form a picture. The Volturi had found that Nessie didn't know the truth about Edward and his family after all—Antoinette's latest plan had failed, as Alice had foreseen. But the Cullens hadn't been able to hide that I knew their secret.

And now Antoinette was going to deliver me to them.

My mouth was moving before I could think.

"You'll need to keep me alive until then," I blurted.

She cocked her head, her constant monologue momentarily interrupted in her surprise.

I took a deep breath, and forced myself to continue. "If I'm dead, you won't be able to trade me to the Volturi. They might not take you back."

Her eyes narrowed and she took another step closer, her hand reaching for my throat.

"But if you keep me alive, you can use my life to bargain with Edward, too. Make him go with you." It came out in a rush, desperation sharpening my mind.

Miraculously, the clawed marble fingers paused. Her lips moved constantly, forming soundless words as she regarded me.

"I need fresh water," I said firmly. "Some bread." I looked deep into those eyes that had haunted my nightmares. "Or I won't survive long."

Antoinette was unnaturally still as she stared at me for what felt like minute after minute. Then, she was suddenly gone, the door banging shut behind her.

I waited with bated breath for as long as I could manage. When I was as sure as I could be that she was really gone, a guttural sound wrenched out of my throat. I slumped forward over my knees, gasping. I had no idea if I'd gotten through to her, but at least I was still alive.

The tears flowed as I sucked in lungful after lungful of air, my heart galloping as though trying to fit in as many beats as possible while it still could.

"Don't linger long."

I heard him as clearly as I had that night in his bed. I needed to move.

The first two attempts to stand up were failures; with my arms stuck over the ladder back of the spindly chair and my feet tied together, my balance was atrocious. But as I tried to push off the ground a third time, the chair scooted back, and I got an idea.

I pushed the soles of my pumps against the floorboards, scraping the chair backwards, until my hands touched the wall. There, that was more stable. I pushed hard against the surface with my hands as I tried to stand again, and then I was up.

The window was just to my right, my arm pressed to the rough casing. I looked over my shoulder at the glass for as long as I dared, trying to figure out what part of my body I could afford to smash against it. Every option seemed equally bad. I'd have to just hope I managed to avoid slicing an artery somewhere.

I shuffled to the side until I was centered on the glass, the chair dragging a few inches across the floor as I moved. I took a deep breath and gripped the small sill with my fingers to hold myself upright as I leaned forward. Then, gritting my teeth, I slammed my upper body back as hard as I could into the window.

The tops of my shoulder blades took the brunt of the hit, but the momentum flung my head backwards, and pain exploded in my skull. My vision went white, then black. The next thing I knew, I was on the floor, lying on my side.

I blinked, trying to get my eyes to focus. There was a roaring in my ears, and for an instant, I thought it was a furious Antoinette, back to interrupt my escape. But when I lifted my head, I could see I was still alone.

And, I realized with a dazed grin, I was surrounded by broken glass.

Getting myself off the floor required awkward shuffling to get my elbow underneath my side. I yelped as I pressed my forearm against a sharp shard while pushing myself up. I managed to get into a seated position, my bound legs tucked to one side. There was blood everywhere, I realized. From the new cut on my arm, but also from a wound on the back of my head, as liquid trickled down my neck.

That was going to be a problem at some point.

I hurriedly scooted myself back to the wall, using it as an anchor point to help me lean over to the side. I scrambled my joined hands along the corner where the wall and floor met until I came across a likely-feeling shard.

My fingers were getting sliced to ribbons, but I managed to pull the knife-like piece inside my palms and twist it until one edge was up against the bindings, facing out, so I wouldn't cut my wrists by accident.

Painstakingly slowly, I began to saw.

"That's right, darling," that same voice urged. "You're nearly there!"

I let out a strangled cry when the tension suddenly loosened, the glass shard going flying from the release. I ripped the cut rope off my nearly-numb wrists, wincing at the blood rushing back into my hands—and out of my fingertips, I could now see.

I ignored the new cuts and quickly grabbed another piece of glass, sawing through my ankle bindings in short order now that I had full use of my hands. My breath was coming in sobs now; I was so close…

And then I was free.

I scrambled to my feet, the pins and needles making me wobble like a newborn deer. But I wasn't about to wait for the feeling to come back. I had to go now.

I staggered to the door and then out into the daylight.

It was truly morning now, though the sun was hidden by the clouds. The little cabin—shack, really—was in a small, flat clearing, but I had been right about it being on a hillside. I turned up the slope and scrambled into the forest, my still-numb feet slipping on the wet moss and ferns. I had to get somewhere I could see my surroundings as quickly as possible; with all the blood on me, I knew Antoinette would have no problem scenting me out as soon as she came back in range.

As I fought my way through the thick underbrush, I became aware of the faint sound of rushing water. Quickly, I decided that was my best bet—running water might help mask my scent trail.

I cut diagonally up the hillside, still climbing but angling toward the sound.

Sure enough, I came across a swollen, fast-moving creek cut into a small ravine. I eyed my shoes speculatively; the strappy pumps seemed like a bad idea for walking on the wet rocks that formed the bed. I pulled them off, followed by my stockings, and carefully picked my way down the rocky slope.

I didn't hesitate for a moment before plunging my bare feet into the frigid water.

It was so cold it made my bones ache, and even at the most shallow edge, I was submerged nearly to my knees.

"Put it aside," Edward's voice commanded. "Climb."

Teeth chattering, I obeyed, clambering my way upstream. If I followed the water, surely I would find a lookout point.

It was rough going, the rocks tearing at the soles of my feet. I grabbed at plants and boulders along the bank for stability, trying to pull myself faster. I had no idea how long I had, where Antoinette had gone. I had to get higher.

The water was getting deeper, up to my thighs now, wrapping the skirt of my dress around my legs. My teeth clacked together as I shivered. At least my feet were numb again—I couldn't feel the bite of the jagged rocks underneath.

The creek curved, and a massive rock blocked my path. It was too steep to climb, and I didn't think I could make it up the muddy, scrubby bank either. I would have to go deeper into the water.

I slowed, testing the bed with one foot carefully. The flow was faster here thanks to the narrowing in the waterway. I reached for an overhanging tree branch for extra stability as I took the step into the middle of the rushing creek.

Instantly, I knew I'd made a mistake; the branch wasn't connected to anything at all, and I had put too much weight against it. Time slowed as the momentum pulled me backwards, my foot losing purchase. Desperately, I reached for the boulder, scrabbling my ruined fingers against the smooth, moss-slick surface, but to no avail.

I plunged backwards into the churning whitewater.

"Point your feet downstream!" my imaginary Edward shouted over the piercing pain of the icy water. I could feel the shock of it pulling me under, and I fought the temptation to just give up. But my strength was waning; I barely had enough to spin myself around, let alone to escape the rush of the runoff-swollen creek.

I tried to grapple my feet down, searching for purchase, some firm spot to push off and carry me toward the shore. I could feel the stones along the bottom, rushing by as the current carried me down the hillside with breathtaking speed—

Crack.

I screamed at the sudden agony in my ankle, the sound garbled by water flowing down my throat. I had found a firm rock on the bottom all right, and my foot had been caught underneath it, while the rest of my body kept moving.

Broken, I thought faintly.

I could feel the light around me starting to fade, and I was certain I was moments from passing out. I struggled to keep my eyes open, to keep my head above the water. The thick cover of trees above me was clearing, I thought—I could see more of the sky. Almost lazily, I turned my head to look at the bank. Yes, the ravine that had rushed the water through above was leveling out now, and the current was slowing in the new, wider space.

I was past the whitewater.

I bit my lip hard, trying to bring myself back to life just enough to get to the shore. I could see a bend just ahead. If I could just get a little to the side of the channel, the current would help deliver me to shore.

I rolled onto my stomach and tried to paddle. The movement jolted my injured ankle, shooting piercing pain up my leg, but I ignored it. I just had to get a few feet further—

My hands touched the creek bed, slick and pebbled. I was in the shallows now, just feet from land. I was trembling head to foot, but I pulled myself along the bed until my body was mostly out of the water.

Alive still, I thought as I panted. But I didn't think it would be for long. I was freezing, and there would be no running on that ankle, I was sure. I could barely even lift my head, anyway.

I rested my cheek on the smooth river rock, unable to even muster the energy to cry.

"I'm sorry," I whispered aloud, to Alice or Edward, or anyone listening, really.

And then I closed my eyes and let the darkness take me.


Author's Note: Y'all good out there? Anybody need some comforting chocolate, maybe? A hug?

Also, please don't try to break a window this way. Arterial bleeding is just so messy.