Disclaimer - I don't own Twilight or any of the characters.
All the characters are human.
Prologue
I'm not sick. I don't belong here. I swear.
I'm not sick. I don't belong here. I swear.
The chant repeats itself in my mind like a mantra, relentlessly pounding against the sides of my skull as I scamper on.
Incessant beats of my heart increase in speed, perspiration clings to me like a bur and my breathing grows hoarse as my adrenaline spikes. The blaring of the alarm continues to assault my ears as I dash down the dark, foreboding halls.
Left right left right
Stagger on, stagger on
Sounds of disillusioned, bloodcurdling screams resound down the halls and echo against my eardrums, causing the harsh reality to come crashing down on me.
He is near.
The demented 'doctor' with his relentless façade of rehearsed speeches and detached lethargic gazes that never fail to make me shudder.
They can't keep me here; I won't let them.
Freedom is just too close.
Somewhere in my sub-consciousness, the concept of 'freedom' personifies.
I can almost grasp it. I can almost smell it.
It smells like blue lotus flowers ripening in the late afternoon sun, its last rays lingering on the intense beauty that the misty midnight blue petals portray.
It smells like fresh spring water, not rainwater. Rainwater seems polluted by mankind somehow, but the crisp smell of spring water—it is untainted by the horrors of humanity and their ideas of 'normal'.
Freedom.
It is...pure, unpolluted and oh so close.
Their ominous footsteps are fast approaching. They are getting closer, closer, closer, close enough to catch me.
A brief falter in my hope and I'm slowing down.
"Bella, just keep going,"
I chance a glance to the side to see Natalie smirking as she effortlessly jogs beside me, her aura of optimism is just so infectious and I'm instantly speeding up - I'm not alone.
The fact that no one has ever seen Natalie except for me is something that I just don't question.
At the sight of the doors, I allow the foreign feeling of anticipation to wash over me. It radiates out of my pores and increases in size the closer I get. The doors mean freedom. Freedom means hope. Hope means happiness. Happiness means-
Five pale fingers grip my sickly thin arm.
As they tighten their grip and yank me backwards, my inner feelings of hope and happiness cascade down my back and like a whirlwind, wash away into nothingness as I am abruptly brought back out of my reverie.
The truth of what I have done begins to personify; it showers over me as the idea of freedom continues to drift away, out of reach.
Stupid. I am so stupid.
And so I scream—bloodcurdling screams as I reach out to Natalie to help me.
But she just stares back, frozen.
"She is screaming about her again," his voice is as icy cold as his eyes, apathetic. "She is unstable. Inject the anesthetic," he calmly orders.
Hesitantly, I lift my eyes to look up at him, but a sharp pain submerges me into darkness before I can.
XXX
Bright.
The room radiates brightness.
So bright that the vivid rays emitting from the plain white walls surrounding me penetrate my closed eyelids and seep into my long forgotten consciousness, coaxing me away from the unfulfilled wishes that associate itself with blissful sleep. Sleep had taken no time in its task to secure me in its grip; and it is in this sleep-induced haze that I realise that the sun has finally made a long-awaited appearance.
I take a deep breath.
A rush of cool air crawls down my dry throat and ventures through my lungs. My sense of awareness becomes more apparent with every breath and it is when I open my bloodshot eyes that I remember that I had never achieved any sense of freedom.
I have lost.
It is when I look down that I realise that I'm tied up.
My arms, they're bound to my body and my legs are wrapped up in impenetrable rope.
Trying to escape is fruitless, but I still struggle against it.
Rope marks, red as murky blood begin to tarnish my skin as evidence of my fight against it, but it still resists, not breaking, not loosening and not bearing any marks from me. It seems undeterred by my growing panic as the task grows more and more futile with every passing second.
Tick…tock…tick… tock
The seconds continue to tick by, taking my sanity with it.
The door pounds open as Dr. Cullen finally enters, grasping a needle.
And I shrink further into myself at the sight of it.
"Please, let me go. I'm not crazy," I'm all wide eyes and trembling lips as I plead with him.
"I am afraid I cannot, Bella. You are not stable enough to go into the outside, and besides"—he chuckles to himself, a demented smirk playing at the ends of his lips—"I still need you here to help me."
His blue eyes pierce into mine, as cold as ice, as manic as thunderstorms.
I struggle even more, my frenzy to escape taking over me.
My heart continues to thunder against my ribcage as traitorous tears begin to trickle from the corners of my eyes.
"I'm not sick. I swear!" I shriek as he strides closer with the needle; but his manic stalk towards me does not falter a step.
I hear a scream.
"Please!"
It's a piercing scream, filled with anguish.
I'm not sick. I don't belong here. I swear.
I'm not sick. I don't belong here. I swear.
I'm no—
And it's mine.