Bella POV
I blink my eyes into the sun. My head throbs behind my eyes. The grass feels cool and wet against my back. I squint away from the empty blue sky. When did I end up on my back? I glance down at my body. I'm not wearing the jeans I came home in, instead I'm in a black silk dress.
What the hell?
There's something wet on my hands; something sticky. I try to bring my hands up, but they feel sluggish, heavy. Bringing my hands slowly in front of my face, I squint at my fingers, goo webbing between each one. The sun shines behind it, my hand casting an uneven shadow against my face. The dark substance drips onto my face, under my nose. It slides the little way down to my lips. I dart out my tongue, sliding it along my upper lip, catching the familiar bitter taste of blood.
Why do
