Sorry about this chapter being so short and the way it is. I should also say that I haven't read the twilight books, I barely got past the first chapter of the first book. I also don't own any of these characters.


Pain, the first thing she notices is pain.

Her body is burning, her lungs feel heavy. There is a searing pain in her neck that's spreading, expanding, moving throughout her.

It's simmering just below the surface, seconds from bursting but never quite. Hot raging flames that consume and spread.

It's moving through her like a pulse, like a heartbeat that just seems to drag on, not quite stopping, never quite racing.

She doesn't know how long she's been burning, it's not easy to think when fire shoots up her spine every time she takes a breath. She can't concentrate when it feels like her limbs are seconds from bursting into flames.

Somewhere in the back corners of her scattered panicking mind, a voice is telling her not to scream. Warning her to not show how much it hurt, burns.

You're not weak. It's dangerous if you show pain, so you don't. You hear me?

She doesn't know whose voice it is, who it belongs to. But she listens because a part of her, some instinct that she didn't know she had knows the voice is right.

So she keeps quiet, clenching her teeth so hard that she thinks they'll crack, keeps her eyes shut tight even though she wants to cry and sob and beg.

There is no one to hold her hand as the fire uproars and spreads with new intensity. No one to tell her the feeble lie that everything will be okay, as the heat closes in on her frantically beating heart. It's climbing and climbing and she doesn't know if she wants to find out what happens when it reaches its peak, when there is nothing else to consume.

She wishes she could just pass out and finally no longer feel like she's been thrown into the sun but the pain is simmering just at the edge of allowing her that decency. Not quite there, not yet. Right at the tipping point but not budging.

It takes her a moment to realise as she tries to reach past the haze of burning fire that's rushing through her, pain that's demanding to be the center of attention.

Something is…. missing, something important. But she doesn't know what it is. Where is it? What's missing? She's wrecking her already scattered mind to find it, what was it? She's trying to concentrate, trying to figure it out.

Come on stupid brain, just work!

It clicks or rather it doesn't because it's not a thought but a feeling.

Or rather the absence of a feeling.

She knows what it is and it would stop if it were still working.

Her heart. Her no longer beating heart.

And she doesn't have time to panic on why that is so terribly wrong because a different sort of burn, heavy sluggish, joins the flames and starts crawling up her legs, simmering within her bones and invading her muscles, locking her in place. She cant move as the joined fires continue burning and sourcing everything that she is, that she was.

When the pain reaches beyond what she imagined possible, when it finally has hold of her, engulfing her in the hot flames that she knows, just knows will put the surface of the sun to shame, she screams. Not caring anymore what a voice in her head is telling her, no matter that the voice is now yelling at her to stop because she can't.

It's burning and burning, and something more. Coming to a halt in her chest, dancing around her dead heart. She expects it, she tries to prepare for it but when every single flame that's lived in her body for who knows how long jumps and consumes the poor organ, she wishes she could die, she wishes to whatever god there is that she was never born.

No one could be put through this amount of pain and survive, not even her worst enemy should feel what she's being submitted to.

There is no relief, she doesn't think there will ever be.

Just fire, and flames, and scolding heat.

And then nothing.