Prologue

This is my second completed story, and my first EVER collaboration. I wrote this story in alternating chapters with my friend E.GhostWriter, who is actually a 'real life' friend of mine and has been since we were little. I introduced her to FF.net, and she has branched out into a few solo stories on top of her chapters of Trapped. Go give her a look (link above).
Anyhoo, without further ado, I present... Trapped
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Prologue

Jacob POV

She convulsed violently, her chest arcing from the ground with the power of the tremors running through her. I knelt silently beside her, blistering heat running through me despite the pouring rain, shadowing her screwed eyes with my palm as she writhed on the sand. Any minute now, I thought.

I’d dragged her further along shore and she hadn’t moved for what felt like hours, so at the sudden jerk of her body in the corner of my eye I charged over, heart pumping. I glanced at my phone.

What?!

Panic-stricken adrenalin filled my head until all I could hear was the grind of my heart smashing into my lungs. I swallowed hard. Scooping her from the sandy bed I scampered desperately up the beach, sand gripping my sodden calves as I hurtled through the clearing, passing the deserted parking lot in a blur of trepidation. Buildings, cars and bystanders slurred by, but I couldn’t tear my glazed eyes away from her thrashing body, splaying her damp hair wildly over my arm. She looked so weak and vulnerable that I wanted to eternally wrap my arms around her frail form.

Nearly there, Bells. The familiar scent of disinfectant wafted towards me and I raced to the reception desk, inaudible words dribbling from my mouth. The woman glared wide-eyed at Bella’s thrusting torso and started waving her manicured hands at people, twirling frantically in her chair as a doctor finally stormed towards us. I held her body towards him and, with military ordering, rounded up some other medical staff who all barked confusing orders towards him.

We were pushed towards a vacant room with white furnishings and what seemed like hundreds of nurses grabbed Bella from my frozen arms, forcing her into the metal bed. I watched helplessly as they wired her up to a large machine, plugging multi-coloured fluids and tubes into her damp skin. The doctor pulled me aside, closing the door as I caught my final glimpse of her. He barked questions at me, twisting his voice into a generic tone meant to sooth my anxiety and calm my frantic rambles. My words tripped over each other, fraught to release their burden from my aching memory. My voice started to break halfway through the account and I turned to face the door, attempting to hide my tears as they dripped down my neck. The Doc patted my shoulder, whispering useless apologies and ‘logical’ reasons for my emotional outburst. I sank to the floor with shame, embarrassed by my unavoidable thoughts.

Bloodsucker. Help.