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Breathe for Mercy

No one knows her real name. But everyone calls her Mercy. And she's running from a world of pain and fear, desperately searching for a place to hide from the monsters that haunt her footsteps. But she's found again-this time by Dr. Carlisle Cullen, who takes her under his wing even though he's vampire and she's human, and takes her home to live with the rest of his family, unaware of the wicked web she's caught in. But they don't know who she is, what she's done, what she's capable of. And the voices just won't go away. This is my story. My nightmare. And now I'm putting you through it. *Rated for some graphic violence* What the heck, why is no one reviewing? Is my story that bad?

Her real name is unknown. But everyone calls her Mercy. She's running from a world where there is nothing but pain but she is looking for a new life, a new way. That's when she runs into the Cullen family and they bring her in and take her under their wing, even though she is human. But they don't really know who she is, what she's done. And the voices just won't go away. This is my story. My nightmare.And now I'm putting you through it.

2. Hold on to me

Rating 4.5/5   Word Count 5841   Review this Chapter

Sometimes, the true test of courage is not to die but to live.

Aimee was queen of the elementary school I transferred into in third grade. She decided who was invited to slumber parties and kick-ball games. She was the person to know. Of course, I didn't know her, and I didn't know, as I sat and watched everyone catch up on their summer vacations, that she was the girl I should get to know.

I just wished I could change my clothes. I looked like a mini-lawyer with a dark skirt, ruffled scarf, white blouse, and loafers. My hair was slicked back tight against my head and gathered into a French braid at my neck.

None of the other girls had their hair like that, and most of the girls, Aimee included, wore leggings or jeans and big comfortable tops that they could play in. Clothes my mother didn't think were suitable for school. But after a day of standing off to one side and watching every kid snicker at me and listening to every boy planning to peek up my skirt or comparing me to a teacher, I decided to do something about it.

Of course, in third grade you resources are limited; so that what I did was quit eating, starting with supper, and proceeding through breakfast, lunch, and dinner the next day. I pointedly dropped my full lunch sack on the kitchen counter so that when Mom returned home from her part-time job that was only fifty hours a week, she would see it.

At breakfast the following day, I appeared in my night gown. "I'm not going to school."

Mom looked up, smiled, and said in this tight, I'm-trying-to-be-patient-here voice, "Yes, you are. I have a court appearance that I can't miss and your father has already left for work."

"My stomach hurts."


"I can't. I don't want to."

"Well, you should."

"If I do, will you take me shopping and buy whatever I like?"

"Ah, the little negotiator, just like Mommy!" She seemed so pleased, but I didn't know what she meant. Since she was happy, I figured I was on the right track. "If you get dressed and eat a bowl of cereal, I'll take you shopping after school."

"And let me buy whatever I want." It was not a question.

"Right, darling. Now, I have fifteen minutes to get out of the house, so you'd better hurry up."

So, I did.

That day at school, I studied the girls' clothes for name brands and styles. I knew by then who was boss and who was nerd, so I focused on the cool girls. Then I took my mother on a nice-nice shopping tour, which meant as long as I was nice and let her talk on her cell phone, she'd let me buy whatever I wanted.

And that was what she did for then on. Only she brought her laptop along and sat outside the store, giving me money, checks, or credit cards and waving at any store clerks who questioned my right to use them.

"Dr. Cullen?" a timid voice spoke behind me, jerking me from deep in thought. So deep in thought that it almost felt as though I was resurfacing after spending hours within the recesses of a deep lake of oblivion. "Dr. Cullen, sir?"

I turned abruptly, maybe too fast because the girl who had spoken my name flinched and took an involuntary step back. I recognized her as the new med student going through her first rotation. With wide, marble-blue eyes and wispy blond hair, she gave the innocent appearance of a baby doll with a small round nose and cherry colored lips. She still looked startled from my sudden movement and I gave her a gentle, calm smile.

"May I help you?" I asked watching the girl bite her lower lip in hesitation, unable or maybe too afraid to hold my gaze.

"Um, I was wondering..." she handed me a clipboard than tucked her white-blond hair behind one ear. "I was wondering if you could sign these for me?"

I took the paperwork from her, careful not to go too fast and scanned it over than signed it with a flourish. "Make sure you check over the patient's radiology results and also the lab results as well on the blood work that was done."

"Actually," she shifted her weight nervously and handed me the folder she was holding under one arm. "I have them right here. I was wondering if, um...that if you're not busy, if you could help me. I wasn't exactly sure..."

I looked to the right than to the left before taking her lightly by the elbow and guiding her to a nearby light board. She handed me the first x-ray and I stuck it up against the board and switched the light on. "Stab wound, correct?" I asked, studying the ribcage on display.

She nodded; she face was flushed as though she were embarrassed. I noticed her hands were trembling slightly and I could hear the rapid fluttering of her heart. I spoke softly, thinking that maybe I might have appeared too overpowering. "Do you see what's wrong here?" I asked. She studied to picture, moving to stand in front of me. I towered over her, her head barely reaching my chest.

"It looks as though those two ribs to the left were splintered when the knife went in," she observed in a quiet, hesitant voice and looked up at me for affirmation.

"Good," I murmured.

"But she isn't responding well to medication..."

I pulled out the lab results and held them out to her for her to see. "Tell me: do you notice anything abnormal?"

"Well, the iron readouts appear low all the way across."

"Too low, which implies...?"

"Anemia?" her voice came as a question.

"Correct. If you give the patient iron supplements than she'll respond better to medication."

I received no response. I looked over at the girl and glanced at her name tag. "You're doing a fine job, Tracy. Don't worry; you'll get the hang of it soon. It just takes practice."

"A lot of practice," Tracy smiled for the first time, displaying a set of purple braces and a left dimple. She relaxed slightly. "You must have been really good to be such a good doctor at the age of 29."

I smiled but inwardly winced, repeating a well-rehearsed line. "It's different for everyone."

Tracy let out a nervous laugh and switched off the light board. Taking down the x-ray, she packed the paperwork back into the folder and walked away, her blond hair swishing like an oriental fan as she turned, the bright light from the ceiling casting a dim reflection on the ceramic tile.

I sighed, feeling my shoulders slump. I ran my fingers through my hair and walked slowly up the hallway towards the large staircase at the end of the hall. All around the smells, the noises, and sights of the emergency room came at me. Somewhere down the hall, a child was screaming in pain as a nurse used a hypodermic needle to inject penicillin. I could smell the vile odor of someone else vomiting out in the waiting room and I heard the sickening splatter of liquid on tile. A Korean nurse pushed past me, carrying two pints of donated blood in her gloved hands.

"Sorry, Dr. Cullen!" she called over her shoulder.

A young man tottered past as well, his nose swollen and bloodied. I quickly guided him to a bed, while instructing: "Don't lean your head back and try to breathe normally through your nose. A nurse will be with you shortly."

He nodded and closed his eyes with an aggravated sigh.

I left him like that and jogged up the staircase.

"You're still here." It was more of a statement than a question. I shut the office door behind me and dropped my stethoscope on the desk. "Alice?"

She was sitting in a corner, with her head leaning against the wall and her knees drawn up to her chest.

"I don't see how you can work here, Carlisle. I think it's ludicrous."

I lowered myself into the chair and rested my elbows on the mahogany. "I enjoy it here." I answered, smiling.

"Oh, yes, you've said that before, haven't you?"


We sat in a moment of silence. I listened as the sound of a gurney rolled past followed by several pairs of footsteps.

"Shouldn't you be working?" Alice asked after the entourage had passed.

"I'm on break."

"As if you need one."

Again, there was a silence.

"Are you still having visions?"

Alice groaned. "They won't stop. I just keep having these confusing flashes filled with shadows and screaming and someone else who seems to be the center of it all. That's why I came here to be with you today. Edward was about to have a seizure from it all and Jasper was near hyperventilating from all the emotions going through me."

I smiled at the words she choose and leaned back into the chair. "I don't know what to say." I said in a serious tone. "There are so many reasons these visions could be happening; most of them are probably not good reasons. We just need to keep alert until they pass. Visions like that could only mean one thing: danger."

"We're in danger?"

The office door shut with a soft clip and Bella was standing in front of me looking physically worn. Her long, dark umber hair was woven into a loose braid that reached her waist. Her large eyes were the subtle color of honey as they studied me than Alice. "I didn't know you were going to stay here this long."

"How did your day go?" I asked as she removed her hospital coat and stethoscope until she was only wearing her pale blue scrubs.

"Better than last week. I was able to handle it a lot better today but I had to walk away when a guy started vomiting blood." She made a disgusted face but still managed to look angelic.

Alice stood and rolled her eyes. "I admire you Bella for following in Carlisle's footsteps but I still think you're crazy. And a suck-up."

"Thanks Alice, I really appreciate your insight and your attempt to side track me." Bella pulled the hair band the same color of her scrubs out of her hair and her long tresses fell straight as ever from the lock of the braid they had been in all day. "Are you guys still talking about her visions?"

I nodded. "Alice decided it was best to stay away for awhile for the sake of Edward and Jasper."

Bella didn't reply; instead she walked towards my desk and sat in the chair opposite me. Of course she didn't need to sit but having been so accustomed of playing the part of human that it just came natural now. Like how she had begun to braid and unbraid her hair or chew on her lip as an unbreakable habit. Alice stood gracefully and moved towards the window, drawing back the folds of the white curtains. A patch of sunlight had broken through the dreary clouds and struck her face, causing her skin to glitter like a million diamonds.

"I'm going hunting," Bella announced suddenly. She turned to look at me and I noticed her eyes were slowly fading to black-a very, very subtle change but a change none the less. "You're here until nine, correct?" she asked.

"Yes, nine."

"Do you want to come, Alice?" she turned away from me and towards the sparkling figure standing like a statue near the window.

"No, not this time," Alice didn't even turn to speak or look at Bella.

"Fine," Bella sighed. "I guess I could try to call Edward even though he said he wanted to wait till this weekend. I don't think he clearly understands that I don't possess excellent stamina as you do, Carlisle. I'm working on it though." She grimaced and went back to chewing on her nail.

I laughed once. "I'm sure, Bella, that Edward would comply with whatever you suggest. He sees no fault in you."

"You have that precisely right, Carlisle." She shook her head as though she were remembering something that wasn't quite a fond memory for her. "See you guys later."

With that she slipped back out into the hall with barely a whisper of a noise. I checked my wrist watch and glanced up at Alice. "I should probably head back downstairs to finish my shift. If you need anything...Alice?"

Alice suddenly doubled over, grabbing her head and letting out a hiss of pain. I was at her side in an instant, holding her up and speaking urgently.

There was a loud knock at the door and I heard the heavy breathing of some person who had probably ran up a flight of stairs and didn't have the stamina to do so.

"Pull yourself together, Alice, just for a moment," I whispered urgently. I pulled her to my leather chair and she dropped into it and laid her head on the desk.

I swung open the door and stepped into the hall, blocking Alice from view as I did so. It was another med student. He was on his third rotation with a shock of red hair and pale green eyes.


"Dr. Cullen, you're needed downstairs. It's-it's an emergency..." he was breathing fast, hard, and his face was turning a chalky gray.

I caught him under the arms just as he slumped to the floor. "I need a gurney over here!" I shouted and a flood of doctors and nurses responded. As they lifted him up, I scolded the nearest nurse who was an aging lady with curly brown hair and deep-set eyes. "Be sure to tell whoever sent this intern up here that to remember next time to not send an asthmatic up two flights up stairs in a state of an emergency."

She nodded just as my pager bleeped off. I replaced my stethoscope back around my neck and struggled to go at a human pace as I ran down the flights of stairs and rounded the corner into the ER just when a gurney burst through the double doors along with several paramedics, Dr. Carter, and several nurses.

"Talk to me," I demanded, matching pace with the rushing gurney and quickly assessing the situation.

She was a young girl, maybe fourteen or fifteen, with a whippet thin frame and cropped, curly black hair. She was to the extreme of hyperventilating with her wide eyes, the color of blue at midnight, darting back and forth, wheeling wildly in obvious terror. Her breathing was hitched and labored and her thin chest heaved from exertion. Dr. Carter was pinning her arms to her side but she still managed to gauge him with her nails while several nurses attempted to hold her legs down. She was squirming, twisting, trying to fight her way free and shrieking at the top of her lungs as she did so.

Her clothes were torn and dirty and a mixture of dried and fresh blood stained her skeletal frame. I could hear the frantic, wild beating of her heart against her rib cage and the violent whoosh of the oxygen empting from her irritated lungs.

"She was found in a ditch at the side of the road," a paramedic was telling me as he held a cloth to his bloodied forehead. I had a pretty good idea how he got it with how she was wrenching about everywhere. "Multiple lacerations to the face, neck, and arms. The possibility of a cracked rib."

I looked over the struggling girl, took a pin light and held her face still long enough and looked into her eyes. Her pupils were narrowed to pin-points in her fear and she flinched away from the light, trembling under my touch. "You're going to be okay, sweetie," I murmured, counting her pulse as we wheeled into an adjacent room where the nurses began to hook her up to the heart monitor and an IV despite her scream of pain and fear. I watched the lime-green line on the black screen of the monitor as it erratically spiked and dropped.

"Her pulse is fast and breathing is erratic," Dr. Carter confirmed even though we were looking at the same thing.

"She has mucus in her lungs," I replied, pulling my stethoscope out from under the girl's shirt. "Someone run a test for her blood type, she's losing too much blood."

"Dr. Cullen, her temp is 97.9."

"Her temp is dropping-someone get these damn clothes off her," Dr. Carter let a different nurse take over his job and he straightened. "Where are the scissors?"

I continued to hold her face in my hands, trying to calm her jerking movements. "Get me some oxygen and a readout of her EKGs and BBCs."

"Blood pressure is skyrocketing!"

I bent over, grabbing the oxygen mask offered to me and cupped it over the girl's mouth and nose.

"Honey, can you try to breathe for me? Deep breaths, now..." I spoke soothingly to her, keeping a hand on her neck to monitor the pulsing of her blood in her veins. She wrenched her neck, trying to pull away from the mask. "We're not going to hurt you, sweetie, you're going to be okay."

I leaned back slightly as one nurse reached over the girl's face to check the paper readout spitting out from the monitor.

"Hemoglobin's low," he said, ripping the paper from the machine. "She's isn't taking in enough oxygen."

I looked back down at the girl who was shaking so hard she was near convulsions. "Deep breaths...you need to calm down, sweetie, no one's going to hurt you. We're all here to help you..."

Her eyes locked with mine and I felt my empty chest sear with sudden pain. Her eyes, shadowed with sadness, were too large for her little face. But then her back arched and those wide blue eyes rolled back, disappearing from view. Her mouth gaped and foamed. Blood from her neck oozed over my fingers.

But I couldn't move.

Without a spoken word, this tiny girl's eyes alone told her story. In the spilt second that her eyes met mine, what I saw chilled me to the bone.

I saw absolute, stunning beauty veiled in hollow, bleeding sorrow. A tiny flame trapped in an icy prison. How could two elements so dichotomous be found in the same place? Her deep blue eyes were magnificently etched with radiating white lines like a star burst. Maybe in another time they would have looked very much like sparkles dancing upon the surface of a lake at midnight. Now, curtained in sorrow, they looked like nothing other than shattered glass.

Those deep blue shards silently communicated unspeakable pain, anguish, and rejection. Her fourteen or fifteen years of what seemed to be brutal multileveled abuse had driven her to near destruction. Implosion appeared imminent. In one flickering instant I witnessed pain so great that it froze me in the position I was in.

"Dr. Cullen? Dr. Cullen are you even listening to me?"

I blinked suddenly and looked up to see Dr. Carter standing on the other side of the whimpering girl with a handful of suture packets in his hands.

"Do you want me to sedate her so we can stop the bleeding?" he repeated his question, waiting for my ‘okay'.

"Go ahead. Did someone find out her blood type?"

"AB negative," the Korean nurse I had seen earlier answered me, her sneakers squeaking as she speed walked across the room from the doorway. "Liz is calling blood banks for a pint."

"Damn," I whispered. Of course it would be the rarest blood type-a blood type difficult to come by. "Give her a dose of epinephrine then put her under."

"Um, doctor? You might want to look at this."

It was Tracy's voice. In one hand she held a pair of scissors, which she had been using to cut away the wet, dirtied clothes.

"Nami?" I gestured towards the Korean nurse and she took my position, holding the oxygen mask in place with one hand and scanning the readouts with the other.

I maneuvered over to where Tracy stood, a head shorter than the rest. She had begun to cut away the shirt at the seam on the girl's right side. She peeled back the now cut, bloodied, mud splotched shirt.

Barely able to be seen, I noticed several deep gashes splitting into her side. Gently and slowly, I slid my hand beneath her boney back and rolled her over a couple inches. "Scissors, please,"

Tracy placed the scissors in my hand and I cut away some more of the cloth. Tracy and the others that were near gasped. The gashes I had seen ran completely from her side across her back and over her jutting spinal cord. Deep and ugly, they etched violent patterns into the pale membrane of her skin: some were healed to red scars, some freshly split wide and others oozing fluid and puss.

"Dear god..." I groaned. I gingerly touched the crusted ridge of one oozing stripe and the girl's body shuddered than went limp.

Her heart stopped. The machines began to screech.

"She's crashing!" Nami hollered.

I spun around and pushed the oriental girl aside. "Prepare to incubate!"

Aidan, one of the male nurses with dark skin and black hair handed me a plastic package, which I promptly ripped open.

I tilted her head back and eased the tube into her throat with no difficulty than locked it in place. "Patient is incubated! Someone hand me the breather and prepare the paddles. Start at forty."

They positioned the shocks above the girl's naked chest. "Clear!" Nami shouted.

"Wait!" I shouted back. Everyone froze. The pulse on the monitor came back to life. First one point, than two points...than a steady beat. Everyone looked at each other for an explanation. We were all silent for a moment.

"Turn off the paddles and start the suturing." I said slowly. Nobody moved. "Don't just stand there, get to work," I spoke firmly, trying my best to keep the stress out of my voice. The nurses and doctors came back to life. Nami killed the paddles and pushed them back. Dr. Carter was ripping open a packet of sutures and pulling out the fish-hook needle. Tracy was filling out the clipboard and Aidan was inserting a needle into the girl's wrist. "And somebody please figure out who this girl is?"

"I'm on it," Liz volunteered.

I turned around and walked out of the room, away from the smell of electricity, blood, and rubbing alcohol. Away from the chaos. Just away from it all.

I shut the office door behind me a little harder than necessary. I pulled off the splattered lab coat and tossed it on the nearby chair. My scrubs were stained with blood and my white shoes were now spotted red.

I rubbed my face with my hands and let out a deep sigh.


Alice touched my arm. She was trembling.

"Why are you still here?" I asked in a tired voice.

I opened my eyes to see her pixie figure standing in front of her. Her dark eyes were wide.

"That girl," she said in a strangled voice. "What are they going to do with that girl?"

I looked at her in surprise. "The girl? We don't even know who she is, yet. Right now she's in recovery after spending three hours in the suture room. I'm not sure what's going to happen to her."

She grabbed my arm in a tight grip. "Carlisle, you must have saw it-felt it."

"Felt what?" I asked, furrowing my eyebrows in perplexity.

"The girl...there's something wrong with her, something has happened to her...and we need to help her-no, you need to help her."

"I am helping her, Alice," I struggled to remain calm. My nerves were already stretched and my daughter wasn't helping any. "I'm doing anything within my power to heal her."

"That's not what I mean, Carlisle," Alice sounded frustrated as well. Her hand on me tightened on my arm till it was almost painful.

"Alice, may I ask what you are talking about?"
Alice pulled me down so that we were eye to eye. "Carlisle. We need to get her out of here. Now."


The pain was terrible, unrelenting, like icy fire creeping through every inch of me until my entire body raged with it. I lay immobile in the gray-darkness of the room, my eyes wide and fixated as I stared at the ceiling, a pale gray in the absence of light. I listen to the beeping of the monitor beside me, matching the hard thumping of my heart, and I listened to the rustle of people walking by with gurneys or wheel chairs that squeaked as it rolled past. A faint line of light broke the darkness from under the door way from the hall but that was the only light besides the dots of red and thin lines of green of the monitors.

But the fear was even more powerful than the pain. It was like a poison that had been injected into my system and filled every sinew in my body and I couldn't stop the tremors gripping me. My wrists, my ankles were strapped to the bed, keeping me firmly in place and the oxygen mask cupped over my mouth and nose made me feel claustrophobic. Sticky, hot tears dripped from the outer corners of my eyes and ran into my hair and ears but I was unable to wipe them away. I had tubes running in to my nose and mouth and several IVs were hooked up to my wrists and I heart monitor clipped to my middle finger. I tried to move, to speak, to somehow twist free of the bindings but I was too weak to break away.

They had locked me up again. Like an animal. Like I wasn't even human. And now, I was going to die.

It reminded me of the jail cell. The coldness, the isolation. The fear.

"Are those really necessary?" Dad had tapped the cuffs on my wrists, chaffing me. It was he who had stood up for me. It was Dad who remembered who I was.

"A matter of routine, sir. Calmed her down considerable besides."

Dad nodded, unable to say more, and he had walked to the garage after calling out where he was going.

Mom hadn't responded. She didn't call out, "I love you," didn't say, "I'll see you there."

And she hadn't. Seen us there.

Dad had stayed at the station until I lost it and started crying, keening really. They couldn't get me to stop, and they called a doctor. But I wouldn't let the short little man near me. I had some kind of idea that he was going to give me an overdose, a tit-for-tat kind of punishment. So I kept running away from him, and he kept waddling after me, never very close, despite the smallness of the cell. I don't think you wanted to catch me, and I certainly didn't want to be caught, which meant I kept running from one side of the cell to the other, where I'd crash into the bars or cinder blocks, bounce off, and head in the opposite direction.

I kept thinking: where is she? Where is she?

I wanted Aimee. I wanted my mother.

Neither came, of course. And I had no idea where either one was. Both, I imagined, were in hell. Aimee for what she had done, my mother because of what I had done or was accused of doing and because she had to explain to all the important people in her life what a monster I was.

Eventually, the two officers stepped inside the cell, and I ran out of places to ricochet off. One officer tackled me, cracking my forehead on the cement floor, leaving a circle of black and a bump the size of a plumb. The other office held down any spare parts of me that were still able to move with a man twice my weight lying on top of me. The doctor gave me the shot.

And over their shouts and exclamations of pain and frustration, and while I kicked and screamed and told them to leave me alone, I heard Dad whimpering. My big, strong, swearing, angry dad sounded like the biggest wimp in the world. But more than anything else, it was the memory of his pain-filled voice that got me through the next few days.

Down on the floor, I couldn't see him. I couldn't see much of anything other than beige shirts and pants, but I could hear him.

"Don't hurt her. My god! She's just a little girl. Don't hurt her! Do you have to do that? Is any of this necessary? Why don't you let me talk to her?"

They didn't answer him. They held me down and doped me up. Then stood and backed away from me as though I still might jump them, as if I had been trying to hurt them in the first place. Then they opened the cell, scurried out, and, almost as an afterthought, let Dad in as I was fading, or maybe he forced his way into the cell. Things were pretty blurry by then.

I saw his face float and drift above me, felt his hand on mine, felt his handkerchief swab at my tears and dap at the bleeding lump between my eyes, heard him ask for ice. I heard his whispered, "I love you. We'll get you out of this mess.

But what I kept thinking was, where is she? Where is Mom?

I wanted to know that Mom had done the best possible thing for me. She was securing me the best lawyer money could buy. But what I needed was her patience and her belief that I hadn't done anything wrong.

And she hadn't given me either.

A cold hand suddenly laid itself on my forehead. My eyes fly open and my body jerks from fright.

"Shh," hushed a soft, gentle voice. "You're going to be alright. I'm going to get you out of this mess."

I hear the scrape of Velcro as whoever was above me slowly undid my binds. First one wrist than the other then one ankle than the other. I was able to lift my hand and touch the metal bars around the hospital bed, the coldness, the smoothness against my skin. Somehow it wasn't soothing.

The man worked quietly in the darkness, his movements only making whispers of sound. He removed the oxygen mask from my face and spoke quietly.

"Breathe in for me," he said, his fingers touching the tube going into my throat. "Now breathe out," as I did so, he pulled the tube out and it made me gag than rupture into a fit of rough coughing.

"Sorry," he apologized sympathetically. He then began to unhook the IVs from my wrists but left the needle bases in. He removed the tube from my nose than unhooked the heart monitor while at the same time switching it off so it didn't even began to screech when my body suddenly had no pulse.

"Do you have any pain?" he asked me, his fingers probing under my jaw as he felt my glands.

I didn't answer him. I never answered anyone.

He didn't seem to mind though.

"My name is Carlisle Cullen," he whispered loud enough for me to understand. "Do not be afraid. I am here to help you but I need you to cooperate."

I only stared at him in the darkness, my eyes wide and petrified. Who was this man? And what was he doing? But he had turned away from me and was rummaging through a nearby cabinet. Apparently, he had found what he was looking for he had turned back to me. His unnaturally cold hand laid itself on my arm.

"I'm going to give you a shot, and it is going to make you sleepy, okay?"

My lip trembled. He was going to sedate me? But I hadn't done anything wrong, I hadn't screamed or cried out my entire time in this hospital room. Why were they punishing me?

I whimpered and began to squirm, feeling his strong hand lock my arm into place.

"This is going to sting," he promised softly.


And sting it did. I hated needles. I hated doctors. I hated hospitals. And I wanted to tell him all that and more but the drug now pumping through my veins sent my mind whirling into a place far away where there was only black and the sound of someone humming. Maybe I was dreaming, but I had the odd feeling of someone lifting me from the bed with their hands and carrying me, the wind was cold as it whipped against me. And I shuddered in my drugged state. Then I heard the whispers:

"I think you've just lost it, Carlisle. What were you thinking?"

some one was speaking harsh and flabbergasted.

"It was necessary." Carlisle had apparently answered.

"Necessary to steal her away from a hospital. A girl who shows the signs of being mentally unstable?"

I was not mentally unstable! Why did everyone say that? Why did people always jump to conclusions but knowing the absolute facts?

"I just had to." The other man spoke soft but firmly. "I felt it was the only way."

"The only way for what?" snapped the first person. I think I flinched from the sound of his voice, dangerous and extremely angry.

"The only way to keep her alive.

Cause I need, I need a hand to hold

To hold me from the edge

The edge I'm sliding over slow

And I need, I need your hand to hold

To hold me from the edge

The edge I'm sliding past

Hold on to me