Another chapter! It's strange, I always feel like I've written so much, then it seems like hardly anything when I finish? Oh well.

This is more of a transition chapter, but I get to introduce one of my favorite characters! Have fun reading, and please review because your comments seriously make me smile everytime, and they motivate me to write more quickly!

When I wake up, it's morning, thought it takes me a moment to realize it. No rays of sunlight shine through the tall window panes, only a foggy, diluted illumination. My neck and back are sore, cracking loudly as I sit up, cramped from having slept in such an awkward position. Yawning loudly, I stretch my arms in the air. I tilt my head upward, staring at the ribbon of cloth wrapped, so tightly, around my wrist. Stained red and ragged, it's like a memento—a scar. With it on my wrist, there's no way I can convince myself that it was all a dream.

What have I gotten myself into?

I'm still in the room; I spent the whole night in Louis's shadowy domain. Shivering, I wrap the blanket more tightly around myself, glancing toward the door, only to find that someone's standing in front of it. Blond hair, freckles, I can't help but smile when I realize who it is—Sean! A wave of relief washes over me. Who would have thought I would ever be happy to see a vampire? Still, anyone's better than him. I don't think I would be able to handle seeing him again, so soon.

"Hey" I begin to wave, but I my fingers curl, drawing back in hesitation. He looks…different. Instead of the cocky, self-assured pose he assumed before, his shoulders are hunched, head hanging heavily (reminding me, for some reason, of a turtle). The dark circles under his eyes are even more pronounced than before, and his eyelids are heavy, as if he could fall asleep any second. Yet, what disturbs me most is his expression. Sullen and bored, a complete reversal of the young vampire I met last night.

What could have caused such a radical change? It's like he's a complete different person.

Sighing lethargically, he points behind me. I whirl around, there's a door that I had failed to notice before.

"…bathroom…"

He says this one word as if just formulating the syllables is an extremely tasking chore. I stare at him a few moments, confused, wanting to ask what might have happened to him. Finally, I decide against it. Leaving the comfort of my blanket cocoon, I walk unsteadily toward the door. My legs are rubbery, as if I've run a triathlon.

Entering the sanctuary of the bathroom, collapsing to my knees, I curse myself for my own weakness. Ever since my capture, all I've been able to do is stumble around, manipulated like a chess piece by the monsters who inhabit this gold-gilded place. Forcing my shivering limbs to remain steady, I push myself up, resolving to be stronger.

The bathroom is vast and luxurious, as to be expected. It's twice as big as my room at Charlie's. My fingers trail along the marble countertops, as I traverse the cold, tile floor. On every wall are tall, intricately framed mirrors. I stop, scrutinizing my reflection.

God, what a mess.

I'm almost completely unrecognizable. My hair is tangled, tied in knots and sticking out in every direction like a bird's nest. My face looks hollow, sagging with exhaustion, and long brownish red stains run down my dirty white shirt. I look like a crazy person, a schizophrenic psycho murder who spends long nights crafting ransom notes and chopping up bodies to store in the floorboards of her house.

Oh well, it's not like I'd be winning any beauty contests in this place anyways.

In the back of the bathroom, there's a gigantic bathtub. Like everything else, it's old-fashioned, with brass lion's feet and an elaborate design. Steam billows from it, twisting, emitting a sumptuous, floral scent. I inhale deeply, and, without delay, I begin to undress. It feels strange, I glance back at the door numerous times as I remove my shirt, nervous that someone might enter. But, these fears are forgotten once I lower myself into the welcoming, warm water.

One by one, my muscles relax, the past days' tensions washed away. I sink deeper, submerging my face, letting sweet-smelling water consume me. Coming up for air, my entire body stings. Cuts and bruises decorate my arms, most likely received after my mad dash through the woods. Even though it hurts, it's a good kind of pain. I wrap the ragged bit of cloth around my wrist tighter, afraid that the wound may reopen.

Lined along the edge of the bathtub are various jars and bottles. There's a note beside them which reads, in flawless, sprawling cursive, "For Bella". Each container is labeled, I grab a squat, cobalt blue jar labeled "Shampoo" and pour a glob into my hand. As I rub my head vigorously I wonder, Who took the time to do this? Carefully arranged and identified, I can't imagine who in the house would be so thoughtful.

Quickly I finish cleaning myself, scrubbing away ever last bit of blood and dirt. When I finally exit the tub, the water is a tepid gray. Ewww, gross. I grab a fluffy towel, monogrammed with the initials, "I.R.", and wrap it around my body. On the counter, there's a fresh set of clothes, and, beside it, a comb. Wiping off the last it of moisture, I lift up the garments, inspecting them. There's a white undershirt, a red, cashmere sweater, slightly oversized, a long, gray skirt, and black flats. Pants would have been more preferable, but beggars can't be choosers, so I quickly dress.

I tear the comb through my hair, attacking the stubborn tangles with a vengeance. Luckily, whatever type it was, the conditioner I used removed most of them for me. Finally finished, I dawdle, hovering in front of the mirror. Cleaning up, soaking in the tub, it was such a comfort I forgot the situation I was in. I wonder if they knew that would happen? Either way, I'm hesitant to leave this new-found sanctuary, and throw myself back to the wolves.

I just always need to be watching, I decide, "Always watching and waiting for my chance to escape since, I don't think I'll ever be able to give them what they want. And, there's no way I can ever trust them."

Straightening my sweater, glancing once more in the mirror, I'm satisfied by my appearance. My skin, though still pale, is glowing more healthily, and I at least look presentable. Trying to draw confidence from this, I leave the bathroom. Sean is waiting, in the exact same position. If I had never known Edward, I would be shocked at this ability to remain perfectly still, like a statue. Stopping a foot away, I say, "I'm ready," proud of the strength in my voice. Mournful eyes turned downward, he stands up slowly, shoulders hunched. He ambles toward to door, feet shuffling, and gestures with a finger that I should follow.

Still perplexed, I trail behind him. Just as his fingers are reaching for the knob, the door flies open.

"Good morning, Bella!"

All right, I've finally lost it.

Blocking the doorway, stance wide and confident, is Sean. But this makes absolutely no sense, as Sean is standing right next to me. You see the problem? I look back and forth between the two, dumbfounded. They are exactly alike, down to the last freckle. Only, one looks miserable, while the other is bounding with energy.

"Sean?" I squeak, former confidence lost, "But, I thought…"

"A common mistake," Sean interrupts, gleeful, "No one expects vampire twins!"

"Oh." Who would have thought? Twins… I guess that accounts for the radical change in attitude, the utter difference in character.

"This morose fellow is my brother, Peter," Sean throws a hearty arm around Peter's shoulder, who rolls his eyes, "We are the vampiric dynamic duo!"

"No, we're not." It's the longest sentence Peter has spoken thus far, Sean pouts, "Come on, Petey, I thought we agreed on that name!"

"Moron." Swiftly ducking under Sean's arm, Peter retreats to the corner, glaring daggers.

I laugh. What a strange pair—so alike in appearance, yet with completely different personalities. Suddenly my stomach growls thunderously, and both vampires turn to look at me.

Blushing, I say, "I'm a little hungry."

"That's an understatement, come on, we have food ready for you," Sean replies, "Though I can't promise it will be very good, we haven't had anything to do with human food in years."

Baring his teeth, Sean smiles wickedly, the irony in this statement evident. And… there's the wall again, the reminder of how completely alien these creatures are to me. Both of their eyes glow brilliantly, so they must have fed recently, just like Louis. Is this because of me? Not once have I been confronted with eyes blackened by hunger. Not that I want that to happen, I'm lucky they're being so careful.

"Let's go." Sean mumbles, already walking out the door. The smile disappears, and Sean returns to his jovial self.

"Yeah, come on Bella, the Wonder Twins are here to show you the time of your life!" Like before, he takes hold of my hand, it's cold and hard as a vice.

"No, we're not." Sean says, and I shut the door behind us.

Yes, I can't deny it, I love grouchy, lazy guys. What can I say? So, omfg twins!! I love the idea of vampire twins, it's sexy. I remember I almost gave the twins red hair, but then I remembered that there are all ready two other pairs of twins that everyone knows and loves (you guys know who they are). Just you wait, I have plans for these two. And, there's a reason for the nicknames that Sean likes to call them.

So, what kind of food is waiting for Bella? What will the last resident of the house ne like? What, exactly, are all these crazy vampires planning?

Find out the answers to ALL of these questions in the next chapter and please review!

I wonder what kind of food they'll have ready for Bella?