Volturi slave

Chapter three - a night's dream.

A/N I do not own any of Stephanie Meyer's Twilight — I'm simply torturing her poor, innocent characters until I can be bothered to sleep.

I sit in the cell for what must have been a few hours before I eventually drift off into a fitful sleep. I crept my way over to the pile of rags and pulled a few over me; leaving the rest for a makeshift mattress. My dream is sketchy and uncomfortable; what with my horrendous day and the fact that no one can really get a full night's sleep on a pile of smelly rags.

Dream ~

I stood up from my spot on the floor and straightened myself out; looking for a way to escape the cell. Eventually I realised that the only way out was to crash down the wall so I charged at it — somehow breaking through the layers of hard stone and smashing through to the other side. I shake the dust off me and pick my way through the rubble; only to find myself stuck in a forest.

I knew that this wasn't just any forest though. This was the forest in Forks. I panicked and staggered forward a couple of steps; the cell disappearing behind me. I spun around anxiously; the feeling that someone was watching me making my palms sweat and breathing get quicker.

I felt a strong breeze rush past me several times and I decided that now was probably a good to to run; so I lurched forwards through the forest, so disorientated by what had happened that I couldn't even walk in a straight line. As I walked I kept seeing the blurred outlines of people I was thinking about in the corner of my eye. Laurent and Victoria walked alongside me for a second; but when I tried to look at them directly they disappeared. My mother appeared behind a tree, staring at me with a confused look on her face before fading into nothingness. Charlie came up next, standing right in front of me with a gun carefully aimed at my head; his finger on the trigger.

I screamed out to him to stop but in a second he was gone; replaced by Alice leaning into my ear and whispering words I couldn't hear. I kept moving forwards; tears streaming down my face as each image got worse, as each person wrenched out a chunk of my soul.

Eventually I pushed through the branches of the trees and came out in a clearing — no, a meadow. Our meadow. And in the middle was Edward Cullen himself, lying on the grass in the same position he had been when we'd first come here. Suddenly I was lying next to him, staring into his eyes. He didn't say anything; just looked at me with love in his eyes. For some reason I found this scene far more frightening than Victoria and Laurent, than the unknown follower, than my mother's frightened face or my Father's gun to the head.
No.
This was way worse than any of that.