I sat at a Formica diner table, hunched over a plate of eggs on toast, forcing myself to eat, my mind spinning. Edward watched my every move. His eyes were golden, his posture relaxed.

Every instinct I had was telling me to run, to escape. But where could I go? Edward would catch me within seconds, even if I had a head start. I tried to calm myself down, to pay attention to my surroundings. I needed to bide my time, hope that he let down his guard. I glanced up to a clock on the wall. 3am. It had been almost twelve hours.

I could feel my shoulders hunched up around my ears. My jaw was clenched, my fingers like claws. Fight or flight… but I could do neither. Edward had made it clear that he would hurt anyone that tried to help me. I shuddered, the image of Julie's poor broken body lying on the floor sprang unbidden into my head. I had to do this myself. I couldn't ask for help without risking Edward finding out… and anyway what would I say? "That guy over there had kidnapped me, but don't think about it! He can read your thoughts"? you can't whisper with your mind.

How did this happen? I put my head in my hands, the eggs threatening to come back up.

"Bella, Love…" My head snapped up, I felt my lips pull back, exposing my teeth in a snarl.

"You can't call me that." I growled. The hairs stood up on the back of my neck, I dropped my head and stared at him from beneath my eyebrows. I could feel my lip twitching, my fingers convulsed into a white-knuckled grip on the edge of the table. I winced as my bad hand protested.

Edward's eyes widened as shock flew across his face. He leaned back into his seat and dropped his gaze, rearranged his face into a smooth mask. "I would never hurt you. You know that." His voice was low, almost a whisper.

"You are hurting me." Anger shook my words. Edward looked up at me from beneath his lashes.

"You don't understand. This… this isn't to hurt you. I just need you to give me a chance." I gaped at him, the insanity of his words rendering me completely speechless. "I know you hate it when I say this, but it's for your own good. Jacob is dangerous." He pointed to the dark V shaped scar that swallowed the back of my left wrist and hand. "This is not something that we can negotiate on, I will not have you around him."

"Fuck you." I spat through clenched teeth.

Edward's face remained calm. "It seems he's had a negative impact on your language, too." A small smirk played on his lips.

A bone chattering fury rose up in my chest. Wrenching up the sleeve of my jumper, I pointed to the black bruise around my arm. My voice grew louder as I imitated his voice, a simpering falsetto. "I would never hurt you Bella, you know that…"

With a deep breath, Edward pinched the bridge of his nose. "Keep your voice down." He stated simply.

"Take me home." My teeth wouldn't part, my words hissed between them. "Or just leave me here, I'll find my own way home. Just fucking leave me alone." What the hell did he think that kidnapping me was going to achieve?

"I can't do that, Bella. You know that." He sighed, and leaned in towards me. Despite myself, I leaned away. "You're making a mistake. Your life is so short… so easily ended. I can't have you wasting it on that mongrel."

"That mongrel is good for me. He makes me a bigger person." Tears sprang to my eyes. Jacob. "He doesn't make me feel small, or insecure, or incapable." There was a sneer in my voice. 'Not like you.' I added in my head.

Edward just sighed as he registered my implication, an irritating, arrogant noise. "We should go, if you're finished?" He gestured towards the plate in front of me. I nodded curtly, standing up.

"I need the bathroom." Edward made no move to stop me, so I stalked off towards the door with the little people signs on it.

I could have cried when I saw the pay phone stuck up on the wall in the corridor. I wanted to cling to it, to sob down the line until someone came to save me. But it was dangerous, Edward would definitely be able to hear me. One good thing about being a sheriff's daughter… Dad had coached me endlessly on keeping my head in a situation like this, on how to get home alive. I straightened my shoulders and took a deep breath through my nose as I passed the telephone. I had to get through this.

The windows in the bathroom were tiny, and only opened a few inches. I resisted the urge to tug on them, I couldn't be sure what Edward could hear, and I didn't want to put him on guard. I peed, splashed my face with cold water, and surveyed myself in the grimy mirror. My eyes were wide, bloodshot. There was a deep crease between my eyebrows and dark circles under my eyes. I dragged my fingers through my hair. Holding a deep breath, I closed my eyes, and tried to relax.

I felt heavy, hot hands on my shoulders, a warm breath on the part in my hair. 'You'll be fine, Baby. Come home to me.' My Jacob, My Sun. I needed to stay strong, I needed to keep on top of my fear, for as long as this took. I could out-smart Edward. I could do this.

I pulled up my tops and rubbed cold water against my skin, to try wake myself up. I blasted the tap on full and shoved my head under the hard cold jet of water, saturating my hair and the back of my neck. Gasping, I turned off the tap and fumbled for a handful of the coarse paper towels that were stacked up neatly on the bench top.

I scrubbed my hair and face dry, and threw the paper towels into the bin. My mind wouldn't stop whirling. I wished I had something to write with, so I could leave a note, asking for someone to get in touch with Dad, to tell him that I was okay. As long as Edward didn't kill me, or –I shuddered- turn me, I would be okay. I would wait this out, I would get home.

There was a light knock on the door. "Bella." Edwards thin voice came through the door. "Are you ready to go?" I fought back a wave of nausea, forced my feet to move. Terror tried to hold me back, my entire body revolted against moving towards him. But I needed to do this, to give myself the best possible chance of escaping later. Edwards face was smooth when I opened the door, his expression completely relaxed. I scowled automatically as he tilted his head slightly, his gaze roving around my face. My stomach lurched again, saliva pooled at the back of my mouth.

Spinning on my heel, I staggered back into a stall and threw up. Bile burnt my throat, lumps of eggs stuck at the back of my nose, making me cough and gag as I retched into the toilet. Once my stomach was empty, I slumped against the wall. My eyes were streaming, my head was pounding, and sweat had soaked through my T shirt, making my skin clammy.

My face lay against the cool wall, sweat tickling my eyebrows. Keeping my eyes closed, I fumbled for the toilet paper, and blew my nose, coughing as the bile burnt my sinuses. Cold fingers pressed against my jaw, my neck. I flinched, gulped against the desire to vomit again. 'Don't fuck this up' I thought to myself. 'Let him think he'll win.' I froze, taking two slow, shaking breaths before I pulled slowly away from beneath Edward's long, stone fingers.

I let my eyes droop half closed when I moved my head to look up at him. I let my mouth go slack. "I'm tired." I murmured, letting my head nod slightly. Edward's face was soft, tender. A little jolt ran through me as I acknowledged my small triumph. I could fool him.

I let Edward lead me back to the car, tuck me in the front seat. I turned on the radio as we pulled out of the parking lot, twisting the dial until I found the radio station that Jake and I continually listened too. 'Our' station. Humming along softly to the Kinks, I closed my eyes and let my mind stretch, feeling much better after having eaten, even if I did throw most of it back up again.

I took myself into a space in my head I had discovered a few months ago, when I had been sitting on my front step, wondering what to do about my Jake/Edward situation. It was the place in my brain that allowed me to step outside of myself and look at the circumstances with detachment.

I needed to figure out a plan, how I was going to approach this, and I needed to stick to it. So. Edward wanted a chance. He figured that if he kept me with him long enough, whatever I had felt towards him would return. I suppressed a hysterical giggle. He wanted me to develop Stockholm's Syndrome.

I steeled myself, forced myself to look at things realistically. I would be held captive for a while, assuming he didn't kill me, or turn me. He wanted me to love him again, but to truly lull him into the assumption that I was growing romantic feelings for him, I would have to take my time. Months maybe? A year? He needed to leave me at some point, so he could hunt, but I had no idea where we were heading. For all I knew, he had bought himself a cabin in some cougar infested forest.

I couldn't plan for that now, but I could decide how I was going to act, in order to get Edward comfortable enough with me to leave me alone.

What kind of person did Edward think I was?

He thought I was pathetic. That much had always been clear. He thought I had some unrealistically high opinion of my own strength. Basically, he believed that I was as fragile as blown glass. So I suppose he thought I would crack soon, that my resolve could only last so long.

So I would keep up the anger for say… a week or two. Not too long, but not long enough for me to seem tired of fighting. I figured the best thing to do after that, would be to fall into a depression, and finally, let him Edward try to comfort me. I couldn't say how long that would take, I would have to play it by ear, try to learn as much about my surroundings as possible before I took off, but I could do it. I didn't want to be 'comforted' long enough for him to try make a pass at me.

I opened my eyes to look at him, his creepily perfect face silhouetted against the car window. I shivered.