It takes less time than I'd really hoped for. But I give the man my debit card and leave the cab, rushing into the airport. The minutes are ticking by to the beat of my heart. Boom . I have a ticket. Boom. It'll be taking off for Phoenix in a half-hour. Boom . I go to the gift shop and buy cheap perfume and a hoodie, keeping them in the bag until I reach the bathroom. Boom. I spray the hoodie down with the perfume and then strip off my shirt, tossing it in the trashcan before dousing myself in the scent-hiding poison. Boom . I'm dressed in an unfamiliar shirt, and smell like a 40-year-old.

I wonder if Alice and Jasper have realized what I've done yet. Are they following my scent? I pull my hood up and sit as close to the terminal entrance as possible. Will my measures really hide my escape? Should I have kept my cellphone with me just in case? I could have told Julie, she deserves to know.

They all deserve to know.

So much for no regrets

I pull out my notebook and start writing to Charlie. Apologizing. Begging for forgiveness. Asking him to bury me with red roses instead of yellow or pink. For him not to take his pain out on the Cullens, and to let them go wherever they want. For him to propose to Billy and be happy. And to tell Mom that I died in an accident. That I want to be cremated so she doesn't have to see how broken I will be.

I barely hear them announce the flight to San Francisco.

A small delay in my travel, the attendant says we'll have thirty minutes before taking back off once we land, so I won't even bother getting off the plane. Less of a scent trail to leave. I wonder if vampires can smell through steel.

I bury myself in the window seat, pressing my forehead against the walls of the plane and closing the blind to keep the light from hurting me. Two people sit beside me - warmth, human - and start their own conversations about the landmarks and restaurants they visit when they land.

As the hours go by, they stop, one even going to sleep. But the one next to me, who I now can tell is a girl around my age, looks over at me and smiles.

"So, what are your plans in San Francisco?"

"I uh ... I'm actually going to Phoenix, to visit my dad."

"Divorced parents?" The sympathy in her voice makes my heart pang with guilt. I nod slowly, looking away. "I get that, my mom left mama and I a couple years ago. I see her on the weekends, but she's busy with her job, and I don't wanna be a bother. Things will get better, you'll see." She wrinkles her nose when she smiles, and her flawless umber skin makes Esme's beautiful, caring face flash before my eyes.

I hope she and Carlisle will be able to help my dad after this.

She goes back to her mother after offering me an affirmation, becoming background music to my writing in the notebook. Even the turbulence can't make my stomach anymore twisted than it already is. It's been over an hour since I left. If Alice and Jasper aren't aware of my absence by now, then my chances of survival have just decreased to near zero.

Though I don't really think I'll live to see tomorrow anyway.

I pull out the book I got from Mr. Byrne and start reading the chapter of mental shields one more time. Anything to extend my lifespan will also give Charlie the chance to escape, maybe even get his gun back from James. Being able to hold my shield up, like when he attacked me in the woods, would be an awesome tool to use against him. Though ... with one hand still out of commission, it will be a lot more difficult. But I'll try. For Charlie's sake

Nine hours later, I'm on familiar ground. Phoenix, Arizona - where I am suddenly in deep suffering in this hoodie - is just as dry, hot, and bright as my memory made it out to be. I hail a cab and give the person my mother's address.

"That's in Scottsdale," they tell me, as though I don't already know. I pull out sixty dollars worth of bills and hold them up. With a pause, they turn on the meter and takes off, playing soft country music as we go down the road. "So you have family here?"

Fucking hell, what is it with random people asking me about my life today?

"Yeah, my mom, actually. I'm going back to her place after visiting my dad for a while." I speak casually, them nodding with a smile.

"It's good to see a kid so happy to see her parents. We'll be in the car for a bit, so get comfortable." I lean back in the seat and cross my legs. The familiar city rushes around me, melting into a solid quicksilver mass. It takes all I can to stay calm in front of the happily ignorant cabby, and focus on keeping my shield around my good hand, the shimmer barely visible thanks to my sleeve.

I won't lose my head at this point. I'm too far in to even consider pulling back. I lean forward and ask the driver to turn the AC up, closing my eyes for the rest of the twenty minute drive. I imagine I stayed with Alice and Jasper, telling Edward of what James sent me. How quickly and gracefully he would have rushed to Phoenix, taking James by surprise and ending my father's life before he had a chance to save him. And I, now without reason or ability to stay in Forks, would find myself in the arms of my mother, traveling the country without knowing when I'll ever see him or my other friends again.

I wonder where he would have taken me if we decided to hide. Maybe to the Denali clan, the allies Carlisle mentioned a couple days ago. Or maybe we'd travel west, where populations thin the deeper in the forest you go, and he would never have to worry about showing himself in the daylight. And we would lay out in the sun together, and he wouldn't have to be afraid of me running or thinking him a monster. After all, what kind of monster goes to such lengths to protect their friend?

"What was the number, again?" The cabby asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

"5821," I say, sitting up straight. They look back at me with creased eyebrows and a nervous sheen of sweat on their forehead. I know how I must look to them, having a little episode in the back seat of their cab. I don't really blame them for eyeballing me. Knowing my outfit and smell, I likely seem insane.

"Alright, here we are." I nod, leaving the car with a soft thanks.

I go straight to the eave, where the spare key is hidden, and unlock the stucco house's massive wooden door. The house is dark, with only a few bits of furniture scattered around after their move. But I don't focus on that. I go straight through, to the kitchen in the back, and pick up the landline phone. Beside it is a sticky-note, and a phone number written in a small, neat hand. And a little heart to sign it off.

"Bella, you did well. A lot quicker than I imagined. Impressive."

"How is my dad?"

"Oh, I haven't hurt him anymore, I promise. Once I'm through with you, he'll be free to go, no problem." He's amused, but something under his voice makes my back straighten. "And are you..?"

"Alone, yes. None of them know where I am."

"Very good! Meet me at the ballet studio just around the corner. You know, it's honestly so cute how your mother has old photographs of you in your tutu and leggings. I wish I could have met her, but oh well. Maybe some other time." He hangs up before I can scream curses at him.

I run back into the baking heat, racing from the empty shell I once called home and down the street, avoiding people and cracks in the sidewalk. It makes me sick to think the last person to walk through what was once my sanctuary is the man who may possibly kill me.

I can almost see my mother and I sitting in the shade of the eucalyptus tree in the front yard. Or playing in the dirt around the mailbox where she tried to grow flowers.

No . Don't think about then. Don't worry about then. Memories won't save me from the reality of my situation. I march on, spotting the red brick building just across the street when I round the corner. Every inch of my gait is like running through quagmire. Sweat pours down my face, down my back, my breathing hard and short. I race through the mud of fear and loathing, and I wish for the protective, lush forests of Forks ... of home.

On the mirrored glass door, there's a handwritten sign on hot pink paper; "Spring Break! Classes will resume on:" and I stop reading there. I look at the decals of dancers painted on the front, the massive windows with the shades drawn. My hand goes to the bar handle, expecting to meet resistance. It opens, and cold air rushes me.

The dark lobby stinks of carpet shampoo and the musty old air conditioner. On the walls, plastic chairs sit, stacked above my head. The doors leading to the southern and eastern dance floors were shut - but the room to the west was wide open, the lights on. I swallow my fear, flex my fingers, and make my way through the threshold.

In the middle of the room is Charlie, laying on his side, restrained by handcuffs. I scream and run to him, landing hard on my knees to check him over. He's not moving, he's not awake, but he's breathing. He's alive. I cup his cheek and let out a relieved sigh.

But then a foot lands on his stomach, and he jolts awake with a cry of his own.

"Welcome welcome, Bella!" James announces, ripping me away from Charlie. I land on my rear about six feet back. "Just look at you. Tiny. Fragile. Alone. And all mine to play with. I tell you, it couldn't possibly get better than this!" He picks up Charlie by the shoulder and smiles. "All this for him . I wish my daughter had loved me this much. Oh, but let's not dwell on the past."

He drops Charlie then and goes to me, kneeling an inch from my face.

"You know what I want?"

"Me. Dead. And if you get that, you'll let my dad go free?" I hear Charlie groaning out his protests, and James lets out a scoff in disgust.

"Please do try to be polite back there. It's rude to interrupt." James shakes his head, biting his lower lip as he looks me over. "You know, you're the second one of your kind I've come across. Not a witch, no. But a Singer. Very rare, you are. Especially since you appear to sing to more than one vampire. That red-haired man, Edward ... ah, now there is a vampire Anne Rice would cream over."

"You're disgusting!"

"Why thank you, sweetie." He grabs my broken wrist and pulls me to my feet, and then off the floor by it. I scream and moan, electric pain shooting down my arm. I don't have time to think, to focus. I pull my good arm back and punch, pushing my shield forward with all my might. The crack of my wrist shattering proves that he went flying away, but the throbbing pain blinds me.

"You little bitch! " James rises to his feet, neck cracking back into place, and crouches. Then his hands fly to his cheeks.

I've seen Edward angry, I've seen his true form forced on him. I've never seen a vampire reach up and tear his own face off. Blood and transparent chunks of skin hit the floor with a wet thud. He tears at his hands, claws escaping their confines violently.

I want to scream and run. I don't. I watch without breathing across the long room, my eyes narrow and my teeth grinding. I stare into the dark eyes of the hunter, and he looks back at me with a pleasant grin. Though shaken, I raise my hands defensively. I am in no way ready to face this foe, to face the claws and teeth shimmering in the fluorescent lights. But what choice do I have?

As of now, it's either him or me.

This never would have happened if I stayed with my mom, if I had never even looked in the direction of Forks. I'd be safe. Not facing death. But as terrified as I feel, I can't bring myself to regret every choice that has led to this.

The hunter smiles in a friendly way as he saunters forward to kill me.

James' casual movements contrast my rigid stance, and without Edward nearby I won't be able to know his moves ahead of time. I watch his feet, seeing that the toes face the direction he is leaning toward. Of course, he's a persistence predator. He's going to try and tire me out.

He lunges at me, and I push him to my right, turning with his falling motion.

He doesn't land on his face. He turns and balances on his palms, pushing back up to his feet. Then he grins.

"You know, your little friend smelled almost as delicious as you do when she was human...all those years in the asylum. Shocked. Beaten. Treated like the scum of the Earth just because she had a touch of magic in her. I sensed her from miles away." Licking his lips, James rushes me again, and I make a fist, striking his jaw and sending him to my feet. He laughs while I back away, slowly rising. "You're a little older than I usually like ... Victoria, she uh ... she's a lot younger than she looks. At least, her body is."

"Shut-up..."

"Ah, but she was nothing compared to little Mary Alice's scent. I took her just to make up for losing that beautiful, rare delicacy. Now you ... you're floral, almost. Like a forget-me-not. And so much more playful than she would have been. I'm almost glad your pathetic father shot me. Adds some stakes to the game." He's 180'd me, leaving a direct path to Charlie. To his gun. The one thing in this room that can kill a vampire.

Then I do something my brain knows is stupid, but my heart can't help.

I roar, thrusting my hands forward so the electric energy of my shield goes at him full force. James' face freezes when his back crashes into the glass walls. I turn during his distraction and run to Charlie, falling to my knees and picking up the hand-gun. A weapon custom made for killing vampires...

I cock the hammer and turn to him. He's gone. Not from the room, but from vision. It's too cold in here for him to have vanished without a trace. A soft, red light appears in the corner of my eye and I raise the gun in that direction, firing and making my wrist crack from the pushback.

Right ... it's a .40 caliber. I've only ever shot a .22.

James emerges, laughing and holding his stomach, with an old camcorder at his face. He's limping, his leg slowly healing itself where I did hit him. I cock the hammer to shoot him again, but he's in my face before I can touch the trigger.

"Now this is what I love to see! The action, the adventure, the thrills. A young woman too stubborn for her own damn good, knowing she is going to die." He takes the barrel of the gun and shoves it against his forehead. Even with the thought of it being a trick playing in my brain, I pull the trigger.

And there's nothing.

"He used five of the six bullets when I took him. I was saving that for him, actually. Give him a quick death after I tore his daughter apart from the inside," his eyes flick down my body and slowly run up it, "out. But I guess now I'll just ... slit his throat and leave you both bleeding out on the floor."

"You fucker..." I feel the static build in my hands again, but he's learned his lesson. He snarls and grabs my good wrist tightly. My scream comes out right as my body meets the floor, eyes still locked with his.

"You think you're so strong, don't you? Being a natural little witch with a vampire pet at your beck-and-call, and this aged killer at your side." He straddles my legs, free hand walking up my chest to my chin. "But here's the thing, Bella; you're just a pathetic little human at the end of the day. You lost your savior when you told Edward not to come here. When you actually listened to me, like a naive child, instead of trusting your vampire friends to take care of me for you. I never could have fought all of them off. You walked right into this! Your death. His death. And for what?"

His hand grips my cheeks, tearing the flesh from my eye socket to my jaw.

"Would you like to ... rethink your final request? Telling Edward to avoid me. To not come here and avenge your untimely death." He bites his lip and looks back. Then he presses his knee against my thigh and - the crack is so loud, I don't realize I'm shrieking. "Because eventually he'll find you. And he'll see this, see us ," James' eyes narrow and he plays with the collar of my hoodie. "Maybe I'll leave an X-rated cut in his bedroom, just to be sure he knows everything. Ahh, but first!" He sets the camera down, angling it to keep both our faces in frame, and slowly starts to lean in, cupping my cheek.

[Cue "Toxic" by Britney Spears]

I take in a deep breath and close my eyes, feeling the shield work its way through me. From my hands to my chest.

I can almost see the shimmer of reality being distorted by its existence.

I can feel it press against James' abdomen.

I let the breath out and open my eyes. As the air floods out my lungs, he rises, moving in near slow-motion, until his back crashes into the metal ceiling, creating a massive dent.

I roll as far away as I can, ignoring every crack of pain that races through my leg and hand. My heart hammers, and the pain is pushed away. I stand, though not very straight, and let out a roar while James falls to the ground, forcing him away from Charlie and against the mirrored wall. The glass shatters, haloing his confused, coiled body. Sunlight is peaking inside from the broken brick walls.

And that is what he continues to do. Back-and-forth, until the bricks are crumbling, the glass is nearly powder, and James rolls onto the parking-lot, growling and grunting with rage. Even with the risk of exposure, he races toward me, all four limbs on the ground.

The tracker, the hunter, the lion , unlocks his jaw and leaps. And with a backhanded swing of my broken arm, he goes off to my left, breaking the floor with his heavy body. He's down, he's not moving. I take the chance, and I look at Charlie. My rush of excitement at seeing him on his feet, getting his bearings with his gun, takes my attention away from the rush of wind that blows my hair from my eyes.

Not until burning pain shoots through my neck, and the skin of my arms pops like overripe fruit.