Disclaimer: I do not own anything from the collective works of Stephenie Meyer's Twilight Saga

Hewitt've Killed the Sweet Girl?

When people asked Louisa how she got back to her house that day, especially considering she didn't even have the keys to the Collins' little Prius, she would reply that she had no idea. She suspected it had something to do with the bike that she found on her lawn, but she couldn't be entirely sure. There was a distressingly large gap in her memory between leaving Mr Hewitt's classroom and arriving at her house. The two storey house loomed over her as she dashed up the drive and up the front steps, plans forming in her mind regarding her next moves. Louisa had no illusions that she would be able to retrace Mr Hewitt's steps as he walked to Anna's room that fateful day and the last thing she wanted was to get lost down in the sewers. No, she would need to trigger a memory of him leaving the room and returning to his little cabin in the woods. And what better place than her bedroom, where he killed Anna. If Carlisle was correct about how her powers worked, it would be extremely unlikely that Mr Hewitt's emotions hadn't left a trace in the room.

She fumbled in her backpack for a moment before realising that Dottie had the key to the house. That was fine, her father kept a spare key in the largest flower pot… but no, Jasper had taken the key after they realised somebody was breaking into the house. Louisa let out a shaky breath, raking a hand through her hair. She spun around to stare out over the front garden, assessing her next move. A glance down the road told her that Chief Swan wasn't home, and neither were her closest neighbours. Even if they were, none of them had a key to the house. Louisa briefly debated breaking a window and crawling into the house, but with how her day seemed to be going, she would piss off her dad at best and have a shard of glass embedded itself in her carotid at worst.

Wait. Crawl.

She slapped herself in the forehead before leaping over the porch railing, ignoring the sting in her legs when she landed on the ground below. How could she be so stupid? The crawl space under the house was how Mr Hewitt had gotten in the first place. Sure, the tunnel between it and her bedroom was now boarded up, but he would have had to exit the house from there. It took her less than a minute to find the little door that opened into the crawl space. Using her feet, she shoved away at the snow that was obstructing to it and dropped to her knees, crawling into the dark tunnel. The weak winter light didn't do much to illuminate the space, but that was fine— it was a straight path and thanks to Mr Hewitt's memories, she knew where she was going. She inched forward until she couldn't go any farther before reaching up and pushing on the false ceiling. Nothing happened, which didn't surprise Louisa all that much— Esme was nothing if not thorough. But that was fine. She didn't need to actually get into her room.

It was easier than before and it took her less time to find the memory she was searching for. She focused on her panic to find her sister, which she guessed was similar to how Mr Hewitt had been feeling after he killed Anna. (Maybe they weren't comparable at all, but Louisa had never murdered someone, so she wouldn't know). She took a deep breath, focused on the knot in her chest, the thrumming of her pulse in her veins, how her tongue felt too large for her mouth.

Then she was moving, even though she knew she wasn't moving.

"Try to keep yourself separate from this," Rosalie had said. "Remember that what you are experiencing belongs to someone else."

Mr Hewitt kept crawling, his movements stiff and jerky. Louisa leaned back on her heels and watched him go. Could she follow him? Or would the illusion dissipate when she left the tunnel? There really was only one way to find out.

She could feel the bite of the snow under her palms yet feel the rain beating down on her skin. The pain in her head had reached a record high and she had to bite down on her tongue to stop the wave of nausea that overcame her. Even though she knew it wasn't raining out, the world around her was dark as a storm raged on, the leaves on the trees rustling in the wind, flashing their silvery underbellies. She inched further out the tunnel, and the scene became faded, as if she were looking at two photos that had been exposed on top of each other, creating a fractured and uneven landscape. Even still, she could just make out Mr Hewitt's figure sprinting towards the tree line.

She staggered to her feet and kept moving.

Louisa sprinted off after the shadowy figure, her feet sliding on the icy ground. Despite living in Forks for six months, Louisa had never ventured far into the woods that surrounded her house. But, sure enough, a creek was nestled at the bottom of a steep embankment, just like she had seen in the vision. Her feet snagged on downed branches in her haste and snow found its way inside her trainers.

She jumped into the creek. The water was so cold it hurt, soaking her jeans all the way up to her knees. Her toes went numb within seconds, but Louisa forced herself to focus, sloshing through the knee-high water as fast as she could. Just like he remembered… she remembered, there was a drainage tunnel large enough to accommodate a fully grown man at the end of the creek. It was nestled in the side of the creek bed, at least five feet from the ground. It was fortunate that Louisa was so tall.

She took a running start and launched herself into the air, catching the edge of the drain with her elbows. Her feet fought for purchase as she scrambled into the tunnel, her clothes soaking through in a matter of seconds. She spat out a mouthful of dirty water as she stood up, her eyes unable to see more than a few feet in front of her. Had she lost Hewitt? Shivering, she closed her eyes and stretched out her arms, planting her palms against the walls of the drainage tunnel, grounding herself. She tried to focus as she had before, but it was no use: Mr Hewitt had no real emotional attachment to these tunnels outside of using them as a furtive means of transportation. Even if she was able to pick up anything, it was too dark to see in the tunnels and she didn't have access to a torch.

"Well, it's not like I would explore them. Daddy banned me from using them, remember?"

She jumped and turned to focus on the image of her sister, who was leaning against the side of the tunnel, her arms folded and an annoyed expression on her face. This wasn't a memory though. Louisa would remember a memory like this. So either her sister was dead and she was talking to her ghost, or Louisa was hallucinating and about to stroke out.

Dottie rolled her eyes. "I'm not a ghost, dumbass. I'm not even real."

The answer came to her at once, and it made a lot more sense than her original assumptions: an invented memory from her mental library. She had forgotten how bitchy she made her sister's avatar. Ignoring the insult her own mind came up with, Louisa recalled the memory Dottie was referring to. Her father had created a scavenger hunt for his three children to get them out of the house one summer. Louisa had partnered up with Pyotr and ditched her younger siblings, choosing to make it a competition, rather than a collaborative effort. Unable to drive and fearing the bus would be too slow, Dottie and Laurie had taken to the sewer system of Tacoma in the hopes of beating the older kids. Not only had they not succeeded, but they had gotten lost down there for several hours, ending up nearly ten kilometres away.

"How did you get out?"

"Unlike you," Dottie said. "I know how to listen."

It took a moment for Louisa to comprehend her sister's advice, and by the time she had, Dottie had disappeared. She pivoted around and faced back down the dark tunnel, before closing her eyes and taking a step forward. It took a few steps, but she eventually heard splashing coming from ahead. She kept her eyes closed, but even if she had them open, she wouldn't have been able to see without a torch anyway. But it didn't matter. Combined with the memory of Mr Hewitt's trip to the house and the vague splashing sounds she could hear, she had a good enough idea of where she was going.

At least, she hoped so.

No Stone Left Unturned

Dottie was not having a good day.

Well, she had been having a good day. Spencer had shared a cookie his mom had made for him during lunch, and Mr Varner had decided to cancel the geometry test because his kids all had strep. But then Mr Hewitt said Louisa was probably dying in the hospital and then kidnapped her. She strongly suspected the Louisa wasn't even sick. And now she was sitting in a run-down log cabin tied to a chair. She wasn't sure if she was supposed to be terrified or pissed off. She settled for being moderately anxious.

Maybe Louisa was on to something when she said that every Collins was cursed to have terrible days before their sweet sixteenth.

Mr Hewitt paced in front of her, digging the heel of his hand into his temple. His clothes were rumpled and his hair stood up in odd spots, and Dottie wondered if it was because of her numerous failed escape attempts or his appearance was slowly becoming more dishevelled as his mental state eroded. While he technically wasn't armed, Dottie had seen a rifle by the door on the way into the cabin. She would need to tread lightly if she wanted to get out of here alive.

"Mr Hewitt?"

He ignored her and continued his pacing.

"Mr Hewitt!"

"What?"

"I have to use the bathroom."

He scowled at her. "And have you try to make a run for it again?"

"I really need to pee," she insisted, wiggling around as much as her bindings would let her. "It's super urgent."

"No."

"I'm going to piss all over this chair if you don't let me go. Honestly, this is such an indignity. Not only am I not free to go take a leak, but you're tying me up. It's like you don't trust me, or something."

That got a piece of duct tape slapped across her mouth, but at least he led her to the toilet.

"You have one minute. If you aren't out by then, I'm coming in after you."

Dottie hummed in protest, refusing to be pushed into the toilet. Mr Hewitt sighed and none too gently ripped off the tape.

"Can we make it two minutes?" Dottie asked. "And do you have a tampon lying around by any chance?" Not like she needed it, but if it bought her a few extra seconds, it didn't hurt to ask. Men were too squeamish about menstruation.

He growled in annoyance and slapped the tape back on, pushing her inside, with a grunt of "two minutes."

She closed the door behind her, resisting the urge to lock it. She was already on thin ice with the chemistry teacher and she really did need to pee. Glancing around, she quickly took in the tiny bathroom, consisting of a small stand up shower, a toilet, and a sink. Perhaps she could use the lid on the toilet's water tank as a weapon? But then she saw it, just above the toilet. Another path to freedom. A window. Just beyond the glass, she could see his car, a beat-up Toyota and a little further beyond, the forest.

Wow, Mr Hewitt was really bad at the whole kidnapping thing. She supposed she should be grateful for that.

Not wanting to tip him off of her escape plan, she relieved herself and used the sound of the flushing toilet to mask the squeak of the opening window. She leaned backwards and twisted the tap to run the water in the sink before stepping up onto the toilet seat and wiggling her upper body through the window.

She was lucky that Mr Hewitt had taped her mouth shut, otherwise, she would have screamed at what awaited her. Her sister was standing just outside the window, her face and shirt covered in blood, her long blonde hair dripping wet, and her lips an alarming shade of blue. She wasn't even wearing a coat. Louisa leapt forward and slapped her hand across Dottie's mouth in an attempt to further stifle the scream.

Louisa could hardly blame her sister's reaction: not only had she been kidnapped, but she was about to be rescued by someone who looked like a swamp hag. It had been a trying day for both of them.

"It's just me!" She hissed into her sister's ear. "Is he nearby?"

Dottie nodded frantically and tried to wiggle further out of the window, only for her hips to get stuck.

Louisa grabbed her arms and pulled. "Is he armed?"

Dottie nodded again, the window frame digging painfully into her hips. Louisa gave another powerful tug and Dottie was afraid her spine was going to pull apart.

"Are you hurt?"

Before she could respond again, Dottie felt a grip on her ankle, and she was roughly yanked back inside. Her head made contact with the window with so much force that she saw stars.

"What did I say about trying to run?"

Dottie allowed herself to be shoved back through the house, pushing her through a living room with a taxidermy deer head mounted over a fireplace and past a kitchen where the plates were piled high in the sink. They re-entered the original room, which appeared to be what was supposed to be a garage but had turned into Mr Hewitt's workshop for… stuff. It wasn't entirely clear what his hobbies were, but she noticed an impressive stockpile of archery bows and a beaker standing over an unlit Bunsen burner.

He pushed her back down into the chair and picked up the ropes to tie her up with. When Dottie started to struggle, he slapped her hard across the face.

"I told you not to run from me, Dorothy," he snapped. "I don't want to hurt you."

But kidnapping was apparently well within his moral limits. If her mouth hadn't been taped shut, she would have spit in his face.

He finished retying her and stepped back. She watched as he paced back and forth like a caged animal, trying to figure out his motive. Sure, she had his class third period, but she wasn't terrible at it. And even if she was, sucking at chemistry wasn't a good reason for him to commit a felony. No, this was about something else. And by the sound of his rabid mutterings, it really had nothing to do with her.

A loud bang followed by the sound his car alarm going off caused both of them to jump. Mr Hewitt didn't even spare her a glance when he left the room to investigate. The moment he was out of sight, she began to wiggle against the ropes, hoping that she would be able to loosen them enough to work an arm free. As it turned out, it wasn't necessary. Seconds after Mr Hewitt had disappeared, Louisa materialised in front of her, brandishing a dirty kitchen knife which she used to saw through her bindings.

"Are you hurt?" Louisa asked. When Dottie shook her head, Louisa stepped back helped her sister to her feet. "Stay close to me. We're going to get out of here."

Rubbing her wrists, Dottie crept behind her sister. Besides the windows, which Dottie had already proved she was unable to get through, there was only one way in and out of the cabin: the front door. It was no real surprise then, when Mr Hewitt came bursting through said door, a manic look on his face.

"You!" he shouted, ignoring Dottie, instead, focusing his attention on her rather waterlogged older sister.

Louisa's face probably would have twisted into a smirk if it hadn't been numb. "Me."

Despite the gravity of the situation, Dottie rolled her eyes at the dramatics of it all.

"How did you— where did you even—?" Mr Hewitt stuttered, a furious expression settling over his face. He reached towards the area next to the door where his gun rested, only to swipe at empty air.

"Yeah, I hid that. Can't have you shooting us as we run."

"You're not going anywhere," he responded, taking a step closer to the two teens. He didn't seem fazed by the kitchen knife Louisa brandished as he approached. "We're going to have a little chat."

"I'm not interested," Louisa said.

Mr Hewitt lunged and Dottie found herself being pushed to the floor by her sister. The two struggled, Mr Hewitt hissing when he received a slash across his arm from Louisa's knife. Still, he had almost seven stone over Louisa, and the teen found herself being slammed by the throat into the wall. The knife clattered to the floor as Louisa's hand started scratching at the back of his hands.

"Is this what you did to her?" She managed to wheeze. At her words, the pressure against her throat lessened enough for her to breathe. "Did you watch the light leave her eyes too? Are you going to kill me like Anna?"

"Don't talk about her," he said. Even still, his hands dropped to his side, and he took a step back. "You don't know anything," he whispered. His voice had lost the intensity from before, and Louisa watched as his spine slumped in defeat.

Louisa raised a hand to massage her throat. "I know that she had a beautiful singing voice. That she loved to read, and her favourite book was To Kill a Mockingbird. I know that she struggled in math. I know that she loved volunteering with her youth group. I know that she loved blackberry pie with vanilla ice cream." She watched as his hands trembled and he looked like he might collapse under the weight of her words. Her eyes briefly darted to Dottie, who had risen from the ground and was inching towards her side. "I know that she loved you. She wouldn't hold her death against you, Mr Hewitt. She knew it was an accident and that you didn't mean to do it." Louisa had no clue if that was true, but she needed to deescalate the situation: the last thing she needed was an angry man charging her. Even if she hadn't been exhausted, Louisa didn't like her chances fighting off someone who was physically stronger than herself.

"You didn't want to kill her, Mr Hewitt. It was a mistake. You loved her," she said. "Ten years is a long time to keep a secret. Aren't you tired of it?"

"I am tired. And now I'm done. I can't do this anymore." He let out a sound that was something between a laugh and a sob. His fingers were doing an odd, jerky motion against his leg that alternated between drumming and clenching.

"You don't have to," she murmured. Dottie had reached her side and latched onto her arm so tightly Louisa was positive it would bruise. She pushed her sister behind her, placing herself between Dottie and Mr Hewitt. If worse came to worse, she'd be able to give her sister a few precious seconds to run. "We can finish this. Just take us back to town."

"And have you run straight to the police?" he asked with a bitter laugh. "If you haven't already called them."

"We won't press charges," Louisa said with far more confidence than she felt. Something was wrong. The realisation made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

"No," he chuckled, the sound cold and grating. Crazed. "Just the murder charges, right? Well, what's two more?" The man stooped to pick up the kitchen knife that Louisa had dropped and when he looked up, the look on his face sent a chill down her spine. She had never seen a look like that on somebody's face, but could only be described as the face of a man who had nothing to lose.

"Anna wouldn't want you to do this," Louisa said, bumping into her sister as she backed away.

"How would you know? She's dead."

"Your sons," Louisa said, trying to move back, only to find Dottie had completely frozen in terror. She could dodge to the side, but that would put her sister in danger. "Is that the legacy you want to leave them? The knowledge that you murdered three unarmed teenaged girls?"

There were less than two metres between them and her words seemed to have no impact on his movements. They were going to die in that cabin if she didn't do anything. Louisa's grey eyes were stormy as they flicked from object to object, calculating their usefulness in the event in the event of a fight, never straying too far from Mr Hewitt. But all the potential weapons were too far away and he was approaching too fast. Louisa began a mental tally of vulnerable targets to use in the event of a fight. The eyes would be the most painful, and if she managed to do enough damage to them, she might render him blind.

"Killing us won't stop the police from taking you away," she tried to point out. "They have enough evidence on Anna's murder alone that you are going to jail for a long time."

"It's all over," he finished after a shaky breath.

Mr Hewitt took a step towards the two girls, and Louisa made up her mind. "Dottie, run," she commanded, pushing her sister towards the open door.

Once, when Louisa had watched a movie with Pyotr, she remembered asking him why the protagonist didn't just deliver a swift kick his opponent's genitals: surely he would have won the fight.

"A man never goes for the balls," Pyotr had exclaimed, looking scandalised at the mere suggestion. "It's an unwritten rule. Ball shots go against everything in the bro code."

It was fortunate that Louisa was not a man.

Mr Hewitt gave a strangled gasp and sank to his knees, face turning purple. She didn't stick around to watch. Spinning around, she grabbed a stunned Dottie by the arm and yanked her in the direction of the door.

The two raced pell-mell towards the forest, making to the treeline just as the first shot was fired. The bullet embedded itself into a tree, inches from Dottie's head, showering her with wood splinters. She squeaked in surprise and nearly tripped, only kept upright by her sister, who grabbed her arm and tugged her along.

Even without the threat of bullets, their sprint was difficult. Dottie, despite a recent growth spurt, was still several inches shorter than her older sister. Add in the fact that they had to leap over ice-covered logs and wade through shin-deep snow, and it was a miracle that they made it as far as they had. And though they were in the forest, the lack of leaves on the trees meant that there visible, albeit a difficult movie target. But Mr Hewitt was a hunter, if the deer head over the fireplace was any indication, and would have no problems shooting them down. She could hear him crashing through the forest behind them, calling out their names. For obvious reasons, they didn't stop. They kept running until their legs ached and their lungs burned, and then they ran farther. Every time they stopped to take a breath, they could hear their stalker crashing through the underbrush, following the footprints they had no choice but to leave behind, bounding ever closer.

Branches tore at their hair and the wind stung against their exposed skin. Time flew by. In what could have been thirty seconds or thirty minutes later, the two found themselves at the top of a hill. It was too late to change their momentum and the girls tumbled down a nearly thirty-metre incline, rolling over downed trees and exposed rocks as they went. Snow managed to find its way into every opening in their clothes, painfully cold against their overheated skin.

Dottie hit the ground hard, knocking the air out of her lungs, before eventually rolling to a stop. The tape that had covered her mouth had fallen off sometime during her tumble. Small daily victories, she supposed, watching the trees above her continue to spin.

"Come on, Dottie," Louisa said, crawling into her line of sight. "We need to keep moving." Dottie wondered how Louisa was even able to speak, let alone want to keep running. Blood coated her face and matted her hair, though Dottie couldn't be sure if it was from her nose or from some new, unseen wound.

"I can't," she managed to gasp.

"Yes you can, baby. Get up. We need to run." Somehow Louisa managed to the strength to haul Dottie to her feet despite the burning ache in her muscles. "Come on. It's not much further."

"Where we going?" Dottie managed to ask, trying to ignore the stitch in her side. It had been painful before, but after taking more than a few hits to the side, it was almost unbearable.

"This way. Follow me," Louisa said, grabbing her wrist before taking off at a run once more.

They continued on, the sounds of the forest slowly quieting, until only their harsh pants and the crunch of snow under their feet could be heard. They didn't dare look back to see if Mr Hewitt had caught up because every second their eyes weren't trained ahead was a second they could trip in the dense bush. Slowly, the trees became more sparse, and Dottie thought that maybe they were nearing town. But no, she could hear… seagulls? The briny smell of the ocean stung her sinuses as they barrelled forward.

The trees vanished and they ran out of the forest before stumbling to a halt. They were standing on the edge of a cliff. Dottie walked forward to inspect their new surroundings, her legs shaking from adrenaline. The churning waves below were inky as they battered against the rocks, salt water spraying upwards in tall plumes.

"We need to jump," Dottie called back to her sister who was swaying where she stood.

A panicked look flashed across Louisa's face. "What?" She inched closer towards her sister, whilst remaining a safe distance from the edge. "There's got to be another way down."

"It's not that far, maybe twenty metres at most. If we jump far enough from the base of the cliff and hit it feet first, we'll be able to swim to the shore. I can see a house from here."

"No."

Dottie straightened and turned to give her sister an incredulous look. "What do you mean no?"

"I can't," she said, her voice barely loud enough to be heard over the roar of the sea below.

"Yes, you can."

"No, I can't. I couldn't climb a ten-foot fence from a murderer. What makes you think I can jump off a fucking cliff?"

"Mr Hewitt could be here any minute. All he has to do is follow our footprints."

"We could die."

"And we will if he shows up here with a gun," Dottie snapped. She stepped towards her older sister and held out her hand. "Lulu, I'm right here. We can do this together. Please."

Louisa looked over her shoulder, back towards the forest. There was no telling how close Mr Hewitt was, or if he was even still following them. It was risky to backtrack in the hopes of finding a path that could take them down to the house (and hopefully village) below. If it was only herself, she probably would have done it too. But she had her sister to worry about, and whilst imminent hypothermia (if they didn't already have it) was a concern, it was a lot easier to recover from than a bullet to the head. And Louisa was always bad at denying her sister things.

She took her sister's outstretched hand, their icy fingers intertwining. The two backed up slightly, preparing to take a running leap. Louisa swallowed the bile that began to rise up in her throat, silenced every part of her brain screamed at her that jumping off a cliff was a bad idea. She mentally scanned through every bit of information she had ever read, watched on television, listened to in her mother's physics lectures, on how best to survive a fall.

"When we jump, we'll need to let go of each other," Louisa instructed, squeezing her sister's hand so tightly that she could feel the bones shifting beneath her skin. "Feet first, mouth closed. Cross your arms across your chest to decrease the amount of surface area coming into contact with water. Swimming with a broken arm will hurt like a bitch."

Dottie nodded. A second later, the girls were sprinting towards the ocean, hand in hand, wind roaring in their ears.

The last time Louisa had fallen off a cliff it was a whirl of colours and confusion before the world went black. This time she kept her eyes trained on the horizon, the setting sun glinting off the dark grey water. Nobody caught her this time. Instead, she had a moment of weightless freefalling as she plummeted, then the stinging of her feet as she shoes came in contact with the water. If Louisa thought wading through a nearly frozen creek was bad, nothing prepared her from taking a dip in the Pacific Ocean mid-February. She resisted the instinct to gasp as she sank into the depths, the water like razor blades as it froze every inch of her skin. When her body finally slowed, she kicked up, her lungs burning. Her head broke the surface moments before Dottie's.

"I think I hurt my ankle," Dottie shouted over the crashing waves.

"Can you swim?" Louisa asked, reaching out and fumbling to grasp her sister's hand.

Dottie was already beginning to shiver. "I need help."

Louisa pulled her sister closer, ignoring the ache in her muscles as they fought against the waves that sought to batter them into the side of the cliff. She leaned backwards, pulling her sister onto her chest, securing her with an arm around her ribs. Together, they managed to slowly kick away from the cliff and into less tempestuous waters.

The two continued their tandem swim, trying to ignore the cold water that threatened to freeze their muscles and coated their eyelashes with ice crystals. Their breathing was shallow and their heartbeats were erratic, but they were alive. At long last, Louisa's one free arm brushed against the ocean floor, and they were close enough to crawl up onto the shore, smooth stones sliding beneath their hands and knees. They crawled out of the water before collapsing face first onto the rocky beach.

"You look like a frost giant," Dottie said in between spitting out mouthfuls of salt water. "Your skin is purple."

For some reason, the comment made her giggle. "Does that mean I'm Loki?"

Dottie giggled in response. "Tom Hiddleston is such a babe."

"Nah, Jasper is a babe."

"Jasper is one scary motherfucker."

Louisa shrugged her shoulders, unable to deny her sister's statement. "He's a great kisser."

There was a beat of silence before the sisters broke into raucous laughter. One thing was for certain: adrenaline was one hell of a drug.

They were interrupted by the booming voice of a man from somewhere above them, and they turned to look at a tall man with russet skin and black hair staring down at them with an incredulous expression. "What the hell are you doing?" he asked, running towards them. "You'll catch your death in that water."

"We'd have caught it if we hadn't jumped," Louisa managed to stutter out between chattering teeth. Her body shuddered violently, reminding her that it was below freezing out and she had just emerged from the ocean. "You need to call the police. Mr Hewitt kidnapped her. He has a gun."

"I need to call for an ambulance," he snapped. "You'll be lucky if you can keep all of your limbs." He muttered something in a foreign language under his breath that Louisa was sure were insults. "Sam, hurry up with those towels!"

A young man appeared and quickly joined the older man, dropping to his knees between the two sisters and tossing towels over them.

"Don't rub," Louisa instructed, watching the newcomer as he tended to her sister. "Not sure why. Ed says it's bad."

"You're bossy," Dottie said, her voice slurred in exhaustion. "Gimme another blanket."

"You're bossy," Louisa mocked.

"I got kidnapped today. I can be bossy if I want to be."

Well, Louisa could hardly argue with that logic.

No Stone Left Unturned

The hours that followed after being found (by who she later learned was a man called Harry Clearwater) were a blur of medical tests, being poked and prodded by doctors, and warm blankets. The two were remarkably unscathed if one ignored Dottie's sprained ankle, the frostbite on Louisa's toes, or either girl's case of hypothermia. Still, the doctors informed them that they would be expected to make a full recovery, thanks entirely to their rescuers on the beach.

Sometime during her first well-deserved nap, her father arrived. She blinked at him groggily before being instructed to go back to sleep. Jasper was sitting at her bedside when she woke up for the second time, eyes black despite his recent hunting trip. He pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist and sent her a wave of lethargy that she didn't attempt to fight. The third time she woke up, Chief Swan was standing at the foot of Dottie's bed, taking her statement.

Louisa struggled to sit up and she was thankful for Jasper's hands catching her when the room began to spin. He moved to sit behind her on the bed and wrapped his arms around her waist, supporting her. She rested her head against his shoulder, arms winding around his bicep, relishing in the warmth emanating from his body. Her father, noticing that she was conscious, moved to sit in newly unoccupied chair next to her bed. Louisa shifted to face him and they watched each other for a moment in silence.

"Is he dead?" she asked in a low voice, glancing over at her sister, who was still sufficiently distracted by Chief Swan's questions.

Mr Collins nodded. "Gunshot wound to the head— self-inflicted. Wrote a note confessing to the murder."

"Does she know?" she asked, jerking her head towards her exhausted and dishevelled sister.

"Not yet. She's still in shock."

Louisa hummed in acknowledgement and the two fell silent for a moment. "Am I still grounded?"

In light of all that had happened that day, her words were so innocent and juvenile that Mr Collins couldn't help but laugh. He reached forward to pat his daughter's leg, which was still covered with several heated blankets. "No. You can even have your phone back when we get home."

Louisa had the decency to look sheepish. "About that…"

It would be an understatement to say her father was less than impressed by the information that he would need to retrieve her mobile from the Forks High front office. Her confession led to an interrogation of her own by Chief Swan, and by the end of it, she felt ready to back to sleep.

Jasper stayed with her the entire time she was in hospital, a silent and soothing presence, even going as far as to help her wash out the drying blood that was still caked in her hair. When it was time to be discharged, he scooped her up and placed her in a wheelchair before Mr Collins even had the chance to offer to help her. Jasper slid in next to her in the back seat of the car, his left hand resting on her thigh, and stared out the window for the entire ride.

She shouldn't have been so surprised to see Rosalie or Alice when she arrived home— they had made plans for a movie night, after all, even if those plans felt like they were made a lifetime ago. She offered an apologetic smile to Jasper as Alice ushered her up to her room to change out of the saltwater stiffened clothes she had been wearing and into an unfamiliar pair of flannel pyjamas. When they returned to the lounge, Rosalie was waiting with an impressive array of hairstyling tools and got to work brushing out the numerous snarls in Louisa's hair. Dottie wandered down halfway through Bridesmaids to steal popcorn, only to be cajoled into joining by an over-enthusiastic Alice.

Despite it being a school night, Mr Collins allowed the Cullen kids to stay much later than he would have under normal circumstances, and it was nearing midnight before the three exited the house. Unlike her, Louisa knew that none of them required sleep. She wondered idly if her father would allow her to skip school tomorrow— at the very least, being shot at by a teacher seemed like a good reason to miss her first-hour class.

She moved through her nightly routine as fast as possible that night, exiting the shower in record time, and by the time Louisa made it to her room, Jasper was already sitting cross-legged on her bed. She closed the door softly behind her before running into his waiting arms. He didn't say anything, merely pulled her close to his chest, and placed a kiss on the crook of her neck. Louisa could tell he was upset, not with her, but rather the situation in general, and didn't press him to speak. He would speak when he was ready and had sorted through all of his jumbled thoughts and emotions.

She laid back, pulling him with her, resting his head on her breastbone and weaving her fingers through his blond waves. He turned and buried his face in her chest, arms tightening around her, and let out a shaky sigh, his breath cold against her skin even through the fabric of her shirt. It was an anticlimactic end for such a dramatic day, which in a way, sort of made sense. The world hadn't stopped turning when her mother had died nearly a year before, and it wouldn't stop because the local chemistry teacher kidnapped her sister. Life had a funny way of moving on, whether one was ready for it or not, she supposed. Tonight, in her little bedroom in a little town in western Washington, listening to the sound of her boyfriend's breathing even out into low purrs, she would recall the events of the day, process and analyse them, before carefully tucking them away on a shelf in her mental library. And when morning came, she would be ready for the new adventures that awaited her.

"The murderer survives the victim only to learn that it was himself that he longed to be rid of." – Thornton Wilder

A/N: Woo. Done-zo. What did you think? Did it live up to your expectations? I hope so! Also, have no fear, this story is not over yet. In fact, it's only really just begun. So stay tuned. In the meantime, leave me a comment and let me know what you thought of the chapter. Fun fact, I might have named Anna Sweet and Mr Hewitt simply so I could use the pun that is the chapter's title. It was one of the first things I associated with this story! Lots of Love, CheckAlexa