God, I know. Feel free to shout at me. It's been truly ages since I updated. Meh. I hadn't actually realised how long it has been, but... yeah. I have actually been posting, but it's just older stuff. Whatever. Enjoy! (I think.)


2 4
A
Twilight FanFiction
By Musings of a Shaken Mind

Chapter 4


--"twists and turns;"
Hour three—12 noon, January 1
st, 2009
BPOV

I am terrified. For perhaps the first time in my twenty-six year existence, I am utterly petrified. The rope that binds my wrists chafes at my skin, rubbing it red and raw. The blindfold is rough, made of the same material that gags me. Even my feet are bound tightly up; this attacker seemed to be taking no chances.

A soft whimper reminds me of higher priorities than myself, though. My son is here—just the oldest one, Jack. In a perverse way, I am glad he is here, because he comforts me, even as he sits, curled in my lap—hot, silent tears on his face. But though it comforts me, it also pains me to have him here. I hate that he has to see this, to see me like this. I am supposed to be the comforter, the one who looks after him—and yet here I sit, being comforted by my son.

I stroke his hair with my bound hands, and wish that I could do more for him. I wish that I could have stopped them, fought them off for the sake of my children.

The largest part of my mind, though, wonders where Edward is.

I need him. I've always needed him, since the moment we met. That night we met, so long ago… I was nearly raped on the street, and he rescued me. And then he took me out to dinner… and that was that. In truth, though, he had me as soon as I laid eyes on him, fighting those men.

We'd gotten engaged just over a year later, when I was merely eighteen, and he twenty-four. And then we got married after another year of engagement. His sister planned the wedding, and, once I'd forgiven her for the lavish affair she had put on, became my best friend.

I find that it helps, to think of happier things. It takes my mind off of things. Though I cannot see, the cool dampness of the air gives the impression that we are underground, and I know that even if I were not blindfolded, it would be pitch black. Jack is not blindfolded, and for that I am glad, but they have gagged him. It sickens me to think that these monsters would do such a thing to a child.

I have not even seen their faces; I cannot place the blame. I think that it would help, if I could. I would have someone to hate.

But they made sure that I had my back turned, before I felt the sharp, painful blow to my head. And then the blackness. I had never known darkness so black, not even sleep. There had not even been the tiniest glimmer of white or grey, just pure blackness. I had been unable to move; I had struggled to breathe. Had I been drugged then, too? The sensations were unfamiliar and painful.

And then I had woken up, here. It might have been minutes ago, or hours, or days… there is no sense of time, here. No day or night. There is just darkness.

No-one has come for me. At least—not yet. I have been left alone.

And, just as this thought crosses my mind, a new sound reaches my ears. The sound of a key being turned, bolts being drawn back. I hold Jack closer to me, holding him more for my own personal sanity, than for his protection. What can I do for him?

That hurt.

I am his mother; I am supposed to protect him. And yet, I can not even do that.

As the door creaks open, I turn to face the sound.

"Isabella Swan, I presume…"

The voice is too high, nasally. Had I not been silenced by the gag, I might have said something witty in reply. But I am rendered silent and blind, and can do nothing.

"I'm glad you decided to grace us with your presence… I was rather worried that you would be hard to get hold of… but it was surprisingly easy. I mean, really… surely the President-elect would have better security? But no. Edward made it very easy for us… it was most convenient of him. Remind me to thank him for that…"

A single tear wells in my left eye, catching on the material as it falls. I bow my head, pressing my face into Jack's brown curls.

The voice chuckles darkly. "Now, that is lovely, isn't it? Wonderful."

I hear suddenly, inexplicably—the unmistakeable click of a camera shutter.

"One for the album, I think…"

His voice seems to smirk at me. I choke. The door slams as he leaves again. I cry, holding Jack to me.

Edward, I need you…