The Twilight Saga Collection part 1(176)

“Was the movie too scary for you?” she wondered.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “I guess I’m just a coward.”

“That’s funny.” She frowned. “I didn’t think you were scared—I was screaming all the time, but I didn’t hear you scream once. So I didn’t know why you left.”

I shrugged. “Just scared.”

She relaxed a little. “That was the scariest movie I think I’ve ever seen. I’ll bet we’re going to have nightmares tonight.”

“No doubt about that,” I said, trying to keep my voice normal. It was inevitable that I would have nightmares, but they wouldn’t be about zombies. Her eyes flashed to my face and away. Maybe I hadn’t succeeded with the normal voice.

“Where do you want to eat?” Jess asked.

“I don’t care.”

“Okay.”

Jess started talking about the male lead in the movie as we walked. I nodded as she gushed over his hotness, unable to remember seeing a non-zombie man at all.

I didn’t watch where Jessica was leading me. I was only vaguely aware that it was dark and quieter now. It took me longer than it should have to realize why it was quiet. Jessica had stopped babbling. I looked at her apologetically, hoping I hadn’t hurt her feelings.

Jessica wasn’t looking at me. Her face was tense; she stared straight ahead and walked fast. As I watched, her eyes darted quickly to the right, across the road, and back again.

I glanced around myself for the first time.

We were on a short stretch of unlit sidewalk. The little shops lining the street were all locked up for the night, windows black. Half a block ahead, the streetlights started up again, and I could see, farther down, the bright golden arches of the McDonald’s she was heading for.

Across the street there was one open business. The windows were covered from inside and there were neon signs, advertisements for different brands of beer, glowing in front of them. The biggest sign, in brilliant green, was the name of the bar—One-Eyed Pete’s. I wondered if there was some pirate theme not visible from outside. The metal door was propped open; it was dimly lit inside, and the low murmur of many voices and the sound of ice clinking in glasses floated across the street. Lounging against the wall beside the door were four men.

I glanced back at Jessica. Her eyes were fixed on the path ahead and she moved briskly. She didn’t look frightened—just wary, trying to not attract attention to herself.

I paused without thinking, looking back at the four men with a strong sense of déjà vu. This was a different road, a different night, but the scene was so much the same. One of them was even short and dark. As I stopped and turned toward them, that one looked up in interest.

I stared back at him, frozen on the sidewalk.

“Bella?” Jess whispered. “What are you doing?”

I shook my head, not sure myself. “I think I know them...,” I muttered.

What was I doing? I should be running from this memory as fast as I could, blocking the image of the four lounging men from my mind, protecting myself with the numbness I couldn’t function without. Why was I stepping, dazed, into the street?

It seemed too coincidental that I should be in Port Angeles with Jessica, on a dark street even. My eyes focused on the short one, trying to match the features to my memory of the man who had threatened me that night almost a year ago. I wondered if there was any way I would recognize the man, if it was really him. That particular part of that particular evening was just a blur. My body remembered it better than my mind did; the tension in my legs as I tried to decide whether to run or to stand my ground, the dryness in my throat as I struggled to build a decent scream, the tight stretch of skin across my knuckles as I clenched my hands into fists, the chills on the back of my neck when the dark-haired man called me “sugar.”...

There was an indefinite, implied kind of menace to these men that had nothing to do with that other night. It sprung from the fact that they were strangers, and it was dark here, and they outnumbered us—nothing more specific than that. But it was enough that Jessica’s voice cracked in panic as she called after me.

“Bella, come on!”

I ignored her, walking slowly forward without ever making the conscious decision to move my feet. I didn’t understand why, but the nebulous threat the men presented drew me toward them. It was a senseless impulse, but I hadn’t felt any kind of impulse in so long....I followed it.

Something unfamiliar beat through my veins. Adrenaline, I realized, long absent from my system, drumming my pulse faster and fighting against the lack of sensation. It was strange—why the adrenaline when there was no fear? It was almost as if it were an echo of the last time I’d stood like this, on a dark street in Port Angeles with strangers.