CHAPTER ELEVEN
ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ

The biology lab was set up for blood tests after lunch. I could almost taste the copper tang lingering in the air before a drop was spilt, a scent that clawed at the edges of my calm. I wanted to disappear into shadows rather than be tethered to fluorescent light and prying eyes. Testing blood types, another lesson I wanted to avoid, but even more, another thread of evidence I wasn't ready to unravel.

I left before the class began, a silent slip through the hallway. Edward was there, stepping into the dim corridor, his gaze catching mine like a trap snapping shut. He didn't flinch but carried the weight of that look with practised ease, disappearing toward the car park's grey edges.

I followed, drawn by a pulse I wasn't sure I wanted to track. Through the narrow strip of grass and the trickling pond, his scent hung sharp- vampire, yes, but also something colder, more distant.

He stopped abruptly. And there was Bella, limp in his arms. The world stilled as a jagged shard of fear sliced through me. A sudden swell of something (pity? curiosity?) rose in me, though I pushed it down before it could grow. The tension between them was sharp and unspoken, as if some fragile thing balanced on the edge of breaking.

"What happened?" My voice was soft, brittle.

"She fainted," he said, voice low and clipped, moving to brush past me. A motion to hurry, to evade, but the tremor in his jaw betrayed him.

The blood had made her faint. My eyes flitted toward Edward, seeing the cringe that already set his jaw square.

"Bella?" The name tasted fragile on my tongue.

"I'll be fine," Bella assured, voice thin but steady, fingers tightening around Edward's neck. Their ease together was a silent challenge.

I wanted to reach out, to take charge, but found myself swallowed by an ache too old to name. Instead, I let them move on, the rust-colored truck waiting like a beacon in the fogged gloom.

The sight of Bella's rusty, orange truck sitting like a stubborn flame against the dull wash of grey made my throat constrict. I set my bag down in the boot, fingers lingering on the worn leather strap as if it anchored me to something real. Pulling out a book, I tried to swallow the sudden weight in my chest and focus on the inked words, anything but the blood-rush pounding at my temples that threatened to drown me whole.

Hunger clawed at me again, sharp and unfamiliar. I'd eaten just two days ago. Yet the gnawing was insistent, pulling me deeper under the skin where memory and craving tangled.

Before Alice even stepped off the building's stoop, I caught her scent, like Edward's, but softer, less like a warning and more like a whispered invitation. She drifted down the stairs, her smile fixed like a carefully carved mask, passing the line of polished silver cars to settle by her truck.

I kept my gaze tethered to the cracked spine of the book in my lap, elbows braced against one knee and the cool side of the truck. But the smell pressed in, closer now, as if she moved toward me instead of away. Then she was there, beside me, eyes calm and sharp, tilting her head like a question unspoken.

"Hi," her voice was a quiet song, smooth and unsettling. I couldn't look away, though I fought it. Alice raised a ring of keys, the metal glinting under the overcast sky. "Get in. I'm driving."

The book slipped from my fingers, thudding softly against the faded paint. "Excuse me?" The words felt hollow, distant from the sudden tension twisting my gut.

"Edward had to take Bella home after biology," she said, clicking the door handle, the lock popping open with a faint click.

"I was going to drive her," I murmured, shaking my head. The lie tasted bitter.

Alice slid inside, winding down the window, leaning out so her face caught the light. "Not anymore," she said, voice steady and sure. "You don't have to."

I frowned, my mouth tight with a refusal I wouldn't voice. Edward's presence gnawed at the edges of my thoughts, impossible to dismiss despite the promise of safety. I'd never believe anything was truly safe here.

"She's fine," Alice's voice softened, as if she'd read the questions gathering behind my eyes. "You get in, or you walk home. Your choice."

I exhaled, the stubborn resistance draining out of me. Slinging my bag over one shoulder, I climbed into the truck's cramped cab. The seat creaked beneath me, and Alice turned the key, the engine coughing awake before rumbling forward.

I sat square and tense, arms drawn in close, fingers tangled between my knees like I could clutch away the unease curling through me. Beside me, Alice relaxed into the passenger seat, her smile unbroken even as I stared out the window or shifted my gaze sideways to avoid her.

Up close, she was a different kind of light—hair touched with flecks of red that caught and scattered what little afternoon sun filtered through thick clouds. Her eyes weren't shadowed or cold like Edward's. They were bright, wide, and burning with a quiet fire, more sun than darkness. The delicate curve of her nose gave her a sharp, fairy-like grace, almost impossible in a world so cruel.

"So, Elide, is it?" Her voice slid through the air like silk. "I'm Alice Cullen- Edward's sister."

"I know," I said quietly, voice low, turning my face away as her gaze pinned me. A delicate dance began between us, words circling, careful and deliberate.

Alice laughed softly. "I'm only trying to help."

"I-" The word caught, too clumsy, too real. "Elide Masters."

Silence settled like dust between us, broken only by the quiet hum of the engine and the wet scent of pine drifting in from the open windows. I fought to steady my breath, aware of how even the smallest exhale seemed loud in the claustrophobic space.

Alice let the silence stretch, her chest rising and falling without effort. Her small nose never flared, no breath to give away a hint of impatience or suspicion. I refused to meet her eyes.

"So, friends with Bella, are you?" she said, voice smooth but edged with something sharp, like a blade concealed beneath velvet. "Two new girls. What brought you here, Elide?"

I shrugged, blinking against the shadows gathering behind my lids. "Needed somewhere to stay. An old family member lived here." My words were sparse, each one weighed down with a thousand unspoken stories.

Alice's eyes flicked to the road, but her voice was steady, probing. "Where to, then? Where should I drop you?"

hesitated, then muttered, "Drive through. I'll tell you when."

A quiet nod, like she already knew.

"I like your hair," she added suddenly, voice light, like a caress. "Very vintage."

I tugged at the ends of the carefully pinned curls trailing below my shoulder blades. Plain. Unremarkable. "Thanks."

Tilting her head, she spoke without looking at me. "Where'd you see that style? I want to try it on Rose."

"In a magazine," I said, voice rough around the edges.

"What was it called?"

I swallowed the answer down, letting it vanish. "I don't remember."

Alice smiled faintly. "And your jacket? Esme would love it."

"A charity shop. London."

Silence reclaimed the space again, thick with everything left unsaid.

I knew what she was doing. The questions weren't just small talk. They were carefully laid traps, netting words to pin me down, to unmask the shape of what I was. They suspected, but couldn't name the truth. The taste of that suspicion was bitter, a strange sort of power.

"You aren't afraid of the speed?" Her question was casual, but I sensed the challenge.

I looked ahead at the tall, needle-like trees blurring past the window. The truck cut through the air, the world a wild smear of green and grey. No, I wasn't afraid. I had no right to be.

"No," I said.

"Do you like girls?" Her question came without warning, sharp and blunt.

It wasn't the kind of question asked gently. Thomas had asked me once, more a hissed declaration than a question, sharp and possessive. Men back then carried their arrogance like armour, their words edged with certainty.

My bag felt suddenly heavy on my lap. The scrapbook inside shifted, its weight a solid, oppressive brick pressing down on whatever resolve I had left. It was the same day he'd thrown that book at me, the same day the world tilted on its axis and everything I thought I knew fractured.

I swallowed the memory, the echo folding into the quiet hum of the truck, and forced myself back to the present.

The suddenness made me catch my breath, the words slipping free before I could stop them. "What?"

Her eyes twinkled with mischief or calculation. "Edward keeps looking at you like he can't decide if you're friend or threat. We think he's jealous about how close you and Bella are."

"Why would he be jealous?" I asked, though the question was a shield more than curiosity.

"You've got to be joking," she said, laughing softly. "Have you seen how he looks at her?"

I smiled despite myself. "All too often."

The truck slowed as we pulled up in front of the bed and breakfast. The blinds flickered, casting ghostly sways across the fogged windows. Mrs. Rochester's round face peeked from behind the curtains, her curlers catching the dim light.

Alice's eyes fixed on me, waiting for something I wouldn't give.

I didn't tell her where I lived.

I shut the door behind me, feeling the world close tight. Alice rolled down the window one last time.

"It was nice talking to you, Elide," she said softly. "I think we'll be seeing a lot of each other."

The truck's tires screeched in protest as she pulled away, fading into the grey mist.

I stepped inside, the creak of the old floorboards welcoming me back to uneasy sanctuary.