I don't quite care for Twilight to be honest.

I woke with a splitting pain in my side. My hair was damp and matted, and my abdomen felt heavy. The phrase internal bleeding came to mind.

I was cramped in the foetal position, curled up on the bathroom floor where I had locked myself last night.

The night was one of horror.

I couldn't even think about it without wanting to violently throw up. Yeah, it was that bad.

Sebastian's wolf form was huge, hulking and extremely vicious.

His green eyes had a slightly red tinge when he bared his knifelike teeth and almost tore my arm off.

My arm.

I glanced down at it and instantly regretted that. The bone was visible and I was full sure that it was broken in at least two places, and there was coagulated blood all over my clothes.

I pulled myself to my feet, but my legs felt like Jelly. If only I could get out of the bathroom and reach the phone…

It took a solid, painful ten minutes to reach the phone, and another ten before the ambulance arrived.

I passed out on the way to the hospital.


I woke in an unfamiliar room with an unfamiliar face staring down at me.

The small female doctor took my details, and asked if there was anyone I would like to call. I said no.

She told me that it seemed that I was viciously attacked by a dog, it's teeth had snapped my arm and bitten me repeatedly on the leg, not to mention managed to puncture one of my lungs when it broke one of my ribs.

I would have the scars for the rest of my life.

"Your body seems to be repairing itself at an alarming rate, miss Swan," the doctor said in a more hopeful tone. "It is fighting off all infections and the wounds are perfectly clean, which is unusual for animal bites as their saliva is teeming with bacteria.

"The broken bones are realigned and have already started mending, and at this rate the casts will be off in a month. You are a very fortunate girl, Miss Swan."

"Fortunate, sure," I muttered. As I lay in bed my family and friends were fighting for my life. And god knows what happened to Seb. I know it wasn't his fault, but I couldn't help but wish he was in a ditch somewhere hurting as much as I was.

"Are you sure there is no one you want us to call?" she asked kindly, just as a nurse rushed into the room. "Doctor Hart, you're needed in the IC unit, there are two more victims of these animal attacks," she said quickly.

"Is it serious?" she said as she checked the bandages on my leg.

"Extremely," the nurse stressed and then rushed off to find more doctors.

More animal attacks? I hoped in my heart of hearts that it was Luca and her friends.

Maybe it was Seb. Maybe Chris had become so injured during the fight…

I shook those thoughts and rushed out of the bed. The pain was crippling, and made me vomit-ready, but I tore the tubes out of my arms and followed the doctor.

There were doctors running in and out of two rooms, carrying bags of blood and the like.

I actually screamed when I looked into the first room.

Lying on the bed was an unconscious Christian, looking like a reject from a gory movie. His blond hair was brownish red from dried blood and his nose looked about a half an inch off, and the lips on his lovely mouth were burst and still bleeding.

There was a brace around his neck and a sling on his arm, and his stomach was bleeding heavily as a nurse replaced bandages.

"What is wrong with him.?" I screeched at the nurse. She gave me a disapproving look and told me that this isn't a theatre. "He is my friend," I hissed. "His name is Christian,"

Her expression went from disapproving to pitying. "His neck is broken, and he has lost a lot of blood,"

"Will he be okay?" I choked.

"It's too early to tell. For now he is stable, so we cant tell the extent of his injuries until he wakes up." she paused. "If he wakes up."

I felt a sick lurch in my stomach and I knew I had to get out of there. But I hadn't counted on what I saw next.

I should have stayed with Christian.

All of the activity was centred in the next room. I stood in the open doorway where doctors rushed in and out and felt sick to my stomach all over again.

Andrew lay in a bed with doctors all around him, pushing and pulling his body, stitching and cutting and cleaning. There were tubes in and out of him, and his face was a battered mess of blue and black.

One of his legs was suspended, and I had a flashback of my own arm when I saw the snapped bones protruding as the blood contented to pour.

"Someone put pressure on his leg!" a middle aged doctor yelled. "He is loosing too much blood, he is haemorrhaging too heavily internally!"

The chaotic scene intensified as one doctor gave orders, and the team worked hard to keep Andrew alive. A new wave of panic flooded the room as the Andrew's heart rate spiked, the machine beeping wildly and unevenly as his heart began to give up.

A blond doctor began giving CPR as a silent tear ran down my cheek.

It was like a scene from a dream.

Reality had taken a nasty twist in the past 24 hours. Hero was gone. Edward was fighting. Christian was unconscious in the next room and Andrew was dying right before my eyes.

The heart rate went flat.

The panic intensified.

And then the room went as silent as Andrew's heart.

"Time of death, two forty-two PM."