Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or its characters, they belong to Stephanie Meyer.

A/N: Short chapters. Anyone who is offended by the contents should stop reading. Adult themes, no minors. No beta also. Responsibility about mistakes, mine.

Chapter 23: The habit of memory

The first mornings were similar. He was just watching me serving him breakfast. He was beautiful, polite but soundless and distant. The only human reaction coming from that man was his gaze, those green eyes. I had the feeling he was penetrating me, searching for something. They looked familiar, so familiar.

It was his 7th day. He was too clean and beautiful to be there.

I remembered the impersonal room. Curtains were covering the windows and he was behind me. The sound of the tray didn't cover the distinct sound of the lock, a lock that should be kept open for me. I turned and saw him standing in front of the door, a few steps away. A few steps so close.

Do you remember me? The lock is secured and I feel trapped. I try, and think, and try. The voice and the eyes are both from the past, the one velvet the others sharp.

I nod "no" and stare. I try to form a puzzle, to find the missing pieces as a mix of fear and dejavu is messing with my brain.

He wastes no time.

"Come on Isabella, I wanna have you again."

And the puzzle takes form. And I'm back to that miserable apartment. And James needs money. And his customers need more things than he can give. And I'm close to more. And Doc is watching their sly smiles on their sweaty faces. And although he is getting high, he turns and licks my neck. He slowly has his arm around my shoulder and whispers me to follow him, to have me again when he never had me.

We had slept in my bed that night. I didn't tell him I was underage. I spent the night watching him. He was skinny and had messy hair and a beard, but you could tell he had a fine tired face. James had scared off every boy who wanted more from me. I was not experienced. He got high soon.

I never expected to see one of them again. He looked older, different , healthier but pained.

I tell him I need to leave but the lock remains secured.

I paid the guy downstairs for more time with you. We have it

He sips his coffee and I stand with my back on the door.

I have questions of how and why. I watch him thinking like someone does when he changes his mind about something. He opens a miniature bottle from the bar and starts drinking. He is approaching me and my sick mind abandons every fear there should be. I admire what I see.

He is in front of me, breathing me in with his nose close to my neck.

You still smell the same. It is just a whisper but too strong to let me unaffected.

I want to finish what we had once started..

A.N: More to come. Thank you all for the thoughtful messages. Let me know you are still reading...