I do not own Twilight.

Happy Friday! So, by your request, I will continue this storyline with the prompts for WitFit, however since this was really confusing for some of you, I am posting this chapter here, but have moved the story over to it's own for future updates. Anything after this chapter revolving this storyline will be posted under Hope May Vanish. It's under my profile. What will remain under this story, Fictionista Workshop WitFit Prompts are the unconnected prompts for December's WitFit challenge.

So, here is the WitFit prompt for 12.14.09 "sea salt", and chapter 3 of what is now Hope May Vanish. Not to be all neurotic, but I wrote this in 2.5 hours and read through once and therefore this was very difficult for me to just let go, hence the purpose of the challenge. Let me say now that it's incredibly hard to just STOP rewriting. BAH! Just being honest. :) If you find ANY typos, please, please do not hesitate to contact me. They drive me crazy! I appreciate it more than you know.

WARNING: THIS IS RATED M. CONTAINS SUGGESTIONS OF VIOLENCE.


"Detective Norris," Edward breathed in relief, a ghost of a smile on his face. Shaking hands vigorously, both men searched each other's expressions. "Anything new?"

The question was asked, though the answer was obvious. Edward's heart ached.

Anything new. Detective Norris smoothed his inner devil, stepping through the doorway of Edward Cullen's office, his heels thudding on the plush carpet. "No, sir. I'm sorry–"

"Do you think it's time to–" Edward began, cut off by Norris' hand.

"Bringing in external investigators at this point will only complicate the investigation. We have it under control, Mr. Cullen," he said, knowing his intentions. "The best thing for you to do is remain here and let us do our jobs."

Your helicopters and cadaver dogs will find nothing. Save your precious money, Detective Norris internally mocked.

Edward knew what he said was true, but frowned and crossed the room anyway, headed for the bay window he'd taken to staring out of. Detective Norris followed behind slightly, watching the man's shoulders heave with a silent sigh.

Soon, Edward was lost in thought as Detective Norris observed him, both men now staring into the abysmal forest at the property edge. With his hand on his forehead and his back turned, Edward fought the urge to scream in frustration, the inclination rising like bile in his throat. Remain here. Always the answer he never wanted to hear.

He wanted to let them do their jobs, but Edward had a feeling they were missing something. The dogs had tracked Bella's scent to the tree-line before losing her, motorcycle tracks leading north to the highway six miles in. Where did they take her? Where was she?

As Norris watched, Edward's thoughts wandered to his obsession: was she out there in his forest? Dead? Buried? Right in his backyard? No… he knew that wasn't true. She was still alive. He could feel it, he told himself. Partly because he believed he did and partly because the crushing horror of that question was impossible to bear, the idea pushing breath from his chest, this time in an exhale Norris could hear.

Several seconds of additional silence passed, the heavy quiet of two men thinking. It was moments like these that Norris felt a little sorry for him. But again, there was a part of him that enjoyed the control play. He'd rendered one of the most powerful businessmen in the state completely… powerless. The detective was enjoying this discomposure.

"I know this is hard for you," he said falsely, breaking the silence, taking one step toward Edward who remained still as a stone, peering with dead eyes into the trees. "Please trust that we're doing everything in our power."

Edward nodded, again knowing that was true. Both detectives leading the case had excellent credentials he'd verified for himself. Detective Norris seemed the detached type, but he was reassuring and professional, while his partner Detective Hale struck Edward as a no nonsense investigator. All things considered, he was thankful for them both.

Remembering Detective Hale brought her to Edward's mind.

"Where's Detective Hale?" Edward asked vacantly.

Detective Norris' stomach clenched, thinking of his new partner. He hated her almost as much as he disliked Mr. Cullen.

"She's analyzing the tapes from your security cameras."

"Oh…" Edward sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets, still dazing, recalling their last dinner together though nothing encouraged that memory. It made him feel good. Having lost his parents so early and with Alice being so much younger, Edward had never had the experience of watching a woman cook for him, or take care of him. But Bella did and enthusiastically because she enjoyed it. She had been in the kitchen preparing their meal for nearly an hour while he'd wrapped up his workday. The domestic scene tugged at a place deep inside of him.

"Why are you using this salt?" Edward asked, curious.

"What do you mean?"

"The granules are huge," Edward noted, shaking the bottle.

"It's sea salt."

"I can read that," he replied, glancing between her stern concentration and the bottle. She was stirring the spaghetti sauce with vigor, the red liquid bubbling.

"I prefer to cook with that," she answered. He liked that she had a system and ingredient preferences, even if he teased her about it.

He smiled, though her determination to stir blinded her to his amusement. He had promised himself in that moment that one day, this kitchen would hers.

With a deep breath, regret hit him hard again and once more he wished he'd mustered the fucking courage, the tenacity to just ask her. He'd had the ring for so long, but the fear of her hesitation or worse… acquiescence out of guilt had kept him silent. They had only been dating six months.

"Mr. Cullen…" Detective Norris began, drawing Edward's attention back to their previous conversation. "My visit today was to touch base, but also to inform you that tonight there will be several hundred volunteers and police officials combing your property again. The temptation to leave your home and assist will be overwhelming, but I need your word that you'll remain inside."

Edward nodded blankly, tracing the tree-line from the window again, picturing the evil thief in his mind, wondering how they'd done it. Detective Hale and Norris both believed Edward's house was invaded by the perpetrators, stealing Bella away as she typed at her desk. Her shoes were still underneath, the askew mousepad the only indication of any struggle.

They took her quickly, out of his very house, out of the office she had just settled into.

Suddenly, Norris' phone rang, startling both men from the exchange. Edward glanced once at Norris' apologetic expression before returning to his fixation.

"Excuse me. It's Detective Hale."

Edward didn't respond, his thoughts returning to that same mix of worry and faith, to more memories of moments passed and lost.

Excusing himself, Norris quietly left the room, shutting the door softly behind him, flipping open his phone, irritated.

"Norris."

"James, I have something here you need to see," Detective Hale said urgently, sounding mesmerized. Norris' stomach dropped again.

"Can it wait?" he asked, testing.

"No. It can't."

*

The blindfold was disorienting, but she could sense the woman moving and watching her, the terrifying sense that a predator was near so profound she shivered from mortal danger. And once again Bella wondered what the woman looked like. Why she was doing this to her. She knew they were after Edward, but why?

"I know your type," she said, smirking, swiveling quickly in the chair Bella had felt with her foot. The motion, the fear, the anxiety of the woman's erratic movement made Bella tremble again. She was so cold, so scared. "You grew up poor. Working class. Married money to feel worthy of… whatever it is bitches like you feel worthy of. I used to taunt girls like you. I bet you were fat and ugly until your twenties, too."

Bella didn't respond, nor did she dare to correct the juvenile woman's wrong assumptions. Bella had never been fat or poor, though she'd never had money like Edward. She had worked hard for what she had, her chosen profession selected because she loved to teach, that passion trumping any vanity for material goods.

"Fucking speak!" the woman barked, grabbing Bella's tangled hair with sharp claws that made her yelp. Holding Bella's head stationary, Victoria moved closer, smelling Bella now, wondering if she should bathe her. That would be wild, she considered, imagining the silent woman trembling and naked. She would hose her down like a dog and take a picture for Edward Cullen, one she could send from the satellite phone once contact was made. Once the real fun began.

Victoria stared at Bella's upturned face curiously, wickedly relishing her revenge as Bella's mouth opened wider in fear, like a gaping fish out of water. Smiling, Victoria laughed at the helpless girl she would kill once she had her money, once her robbed estate was avenged. She decided Bella should know, to begin preparing for the inevitable.

"I'll kill you," Victoria stated, a streak of childish, sadistic pleasure passing through her at the sight of Bella's further trembling lip. Fear surged through Bella, adrenaline spiking her heart, the primal urge to flee danger making her captivity more painful. "Mr. White is a bit of a pussy. You wouldn't know it with the badge and the gun and the giant cock, but he is… I'll have to do it myself. And I will."

Before she could fear for her life, for the promise of death, the woman was touching Bella, running her sharp fingernail down her face, the grip on her hair tightening. Again, Bella tried to swallow, her throat sandpaper dry, the scratching sensation somehow suffocating.

"I bet he liked fucking you," the evil woman decided, petting Bella like a dog now, long fingers roaming. "I've seen him in his little power suit, so clearly compensating. I went to Yale with little boys like him. Playing big boy to get the trophy whore. The question is…" she continued, her grip not lessening, her finger trailing to Bella's collarbone now, poking strangely at the indentation. "Did you like fucking him? Or did you pretend like most of us do…"

The woman's question inspired automatic, sweet memories of Edward making love to Bella, touching her the way he always did. The pit of her stomach ached for him, what he must be going through. The worry, the terror. And only once was their love making what one could consider fucking...

"Bella," he gasped, the grip on her wrists tightening.

"Yes…" she moaned, feeling him move faster, giving into her request, pressing her back against the wooden porch. The blanket from the house wasn't under her anymore, only padding his knees from the brutal wood. She loved it, loved feeling the contrast; his soft, but firm body locking her against the hard surface. The pleasure and heat of him filling her took over, the tension in his arms increasing, straining with the task of giving her more.

"I love you," he whispered, moving faster with his own admission, their hips smacking, and skin glistening. She groaned, the delicious satisfaction of his raw lust and subsequent determination sexier than anything she'd ever seen.

"I love you," she managed, tightening her grip on his strong shoulders, feeling beautiful, feeling powerful. Her strong man, the quiet, loving man she wanted to marry was losing himself in her body. Losing himself to her touch.

He moaned in response, his gradual increase a tempo so erotically perfect she struggled to breathe. Ducking his head down to her neck, she caught a glimpse of his face in pure, unrivaled ecstasy. More and more, he was letting go of his restraint, his eyes clenched tight, his full mouth whispering her name once more. Like a prayer.

"Bella…"

Clenching her eyes tighter to fight back tears, behind the blindfold she remembered that moment like it was yesterday, that one memory inspiring several more. Like vague hallucinations, moments of their time together pushed in and out, blurred and fleeting, painful and desperate. Bella wondered if she might be going crazy, if the deprivation of food and water were warping her mind. Increasingly her imagination had grown into something else entirely.

"Answer me!" the woman demanded through gritted teeth and hot breath on her cheek, but Bella refused, her composure faltering for just a moment before recovering. She would never answer, not because she was scared, but because there were no words. Even she had never understood why he loved her the way he did, why he wanted her exclusively. And the way he shook from quiet passion while moving inside of her, the way he cradled her head and stuttered shallow breaths in her ear when they made love – those pieces of him were hers only. Sacred memories.

Her love for him swelled her heart then, threatening to break her open, so sharp and drowning she could hardly stand it. Bella shuddered as the woman sighed in resignation, dropping her grip and groaning in annoyance. A few indefinable noises later and the woman's presence was suddenly far away again.

Behind the dark cloth a tear slipped from her covered eyes, absorbed by the material.

"I have ways of making you talk. We're just not there yet." The woman promised, the door audibly opening and slamming shut without another word. Once more, Bella was left cuffed and bound to a pole in a dank room that smelled of mold and stagnant water.

Like clockwork Beethoven began then; frantic strings a dark opening to the 5th Symphony she knew all too well now.

Pressing her lids together to maintain her strength, she was thankful for the mask now, thankful that bitch couldn't see her love or despair. Because deep down, Bella knew she would never feel Edward again.


This was really dark, but I hope you liked this glimpse into the psychopathic jilted sorority girl that is Victoria. She's wicked in all the wrong ways, much like her canon companion. I just kept thinking of the actress that played her character speaking so hatefully, like a disassociated villain on a mission to taunt and retaliate.