A/N: The 100th review shout out goes to TVholic29. She says this is really fun to read. Gah. :-D Thank you! A shout out for the 130th review? Sure. :-)

Thanks so much for all your reviews. I laugh hard and take in every concern/feedback with interest. This is a nice high...with no dope. Not that I ever tried *asthmatic and would die* LOL

Ok, this was a tough chap just because I'm setting up for the beginning of a new phase for the story. Lots of decisions and discussions with my gals. In the end, I think it's my fav so far. But one thing: This chap was beta'd with just TWO misspells. Everything else is as you'll read it first draft. I couldn't believe it! I thought she was lying to me. The upside of her is that she's not a regular FF reader and takes this story in with another element in mind brilliantly. Thank you Beige. ILU. :-)

I don't own Twilight. I just own a Mini (which I cleaned yesterday and my ass/back/legs hurt now) and my FF reading device—iPhone.

|:::::[-]:::i):::| —Tighten yours...cuz yeah. *fans self*

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* Sound: Nine Inch Nails - The great Below

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Chap 6 – Past

Fire. It stings my veins flowing through each of my limbs. My eyes are fused shut. I want to run away from the fire consuming me. I'm trapped.

Move. Run. My conscious screams at me.

My body jolts. My head snaps up. My eyes unstick at a stinging pain.

The hollow of my throat caves and fills as my chest rises and falls with it. My pulse thumps on my neck. It pounds in my ears, ribs, and chest. My mouth is covered with cloth. A beaming spotlight over me blinds me in a darkened room. I blink.

Tall silhouettes. They're all around me.

My limbs minutely prickle back to life. I stare at silhouetted arms, heads, legs—people, as I find my bearings. Where am I? I'm standing but I'm not touching the ground. A hard cold flat surface straps my body tightly against it. I'm intact.

They watch and I'm their experiment.

No voices. No sounds. Silence is the loudest agony.

Anger. I fight at the straps around me, my head drops with the effort. Every second flashes images in my mind. Running, screaming, blood…Angela and Mike. I remember.

Move. Run. I can hear it again.

I break the piercing silence with my grunts. Sweat dripping down from my scalp. My knees bend slightly. I use the straps around my ankles as leverage, sliding lower over the metal behind me. My shoulders strain against their shackles. I growl and fight.

Nothing.

I watch my own chest heave. I give up. The straps dig into my skin. This is not a hospital. This is not a safe haven. I'm in hell and they watch. A foreign thin rubber material is the only thing shielding my body down to my thighs. Shame doesn't even register as I am partially exposed through the pale material.

I look up. No one has moved.

Fear. I can die countless ways. I am at their will—vulnerable and bare. This is the last my eyes will see as they water.

I scream.

"Enough!" storms a voice above my undoing.

I stop. I watch as silhouettes turn away from me. All but one. Tension fills the room as they all stare at the one who didn't turn away. He sounds familiar.

He takes steps back into complete darkness. His back hitting a surface I can't see. The attention turns back to me. I dart my eyes and I wait.

A low sadistic chuckle makes my eyes cut to a silhouette walking towards me. Three more echoing steps and he reveals his face under the beaming light. His arms are crossed over his chest, one hand fingering his chin in thought. His crisp white lab coat touches his thighs in gray slacks, folding over pointy black shoes that reflect the light. His blue button up looks dull against his brilliant eyes—a contrast to his platinum white slick hair.

"She looks so much like her mother," he says. The silk in his voice sounds far too endearing for its intention. His expression looks far in thought and pained. He hums.

I freeze at his words.

"I'm sure you don't remember me. You were so broken, really," he says and pauses. His expression changes to amusement instantly. Slowly, he lifts his finger over his cheek, running it along the length of a scar.

I blink.

"Have you been taking the pills I prescribed, Miss Swan?" he smirks. His finger lifts as he flicks his hand in a dismissive wave. "Of course not. I'm sure you've been more than preoccupied these past few days."

My eyes widen at the realization. The scar. The deep blue eyes. The doctor who came to Angela's apartment to check on me—It was him.

My hands shake.

"How are you feeling?" he asks as if this scenario would ever soothe me. He reaches to me. I flinch. "Oh, honey. Don't be afraid. I'm not the one you should be worried about. Just relax." He sounds unconvincing.

"I'm going to take this off for you. It looks a bit uncomfortable," he says running his finger along the cloth over my mouth. He completely ignores my current restrained state. "But you mustn't scream, darling, or I'll be forced to sew those pretty lips of yours together," he adds calmly, tapping a finger on my bottom lip.

I exhale loudly and swallow a sob.

He chuckles. "Humor definitely doesn't cut it in these circumstances, I guess?" he says, turning slightly over his shoulder towards the man in darkness. He slips the cloth off.

My mouth is dry as I run my stiff tongue over my chapped lips. They sting.

"And a pretty little tongue too…" he trails off, transfixed with my mouth. I look away. He chuckles again.

I hate the sound.

"Well, how rude of me. I'm Dr. Carlisle Cullen. They call me Carlisle," he says motioning towards the group behind him. "But you can call me Doctor," he shrugs. "It would certainly sound nice slipping from that mouth of yours."

My blood is boiling. He reaches again and wipes a tear away. I turn away in anger.

"I'm sure you're wondering why you're here, hm?" He rubs my tear between his thumb and finger. "Well, it's fairly simple. One does not seek for something without reason, without gaining anything. Correct?" He waits for me to answer. I don't think I can speak.

"Someone wants something from you..." he sings in a haunting mocking tone and twirls his finger close to my face. He chuckles yet again.

"You go about your pathetic little life and you don't have the slightest clue, do you?" He paces in my peripheral vision. "Too busy unfolding the mysteries of the nights. Trying to find a killer." He stops in front of me and pauses. "Ridiculous."

The strains are beginning to hurt from the weight. I shift and try not to whimper. He knows everything about me.

He leans in. I can feel his breath on my cheek. "You're going to have to learn to mind your business," he hisses. His voice is sharp and venomous. I gasp. I turn the other way as far as my neck would let me.

I spot a metal clinical table with various instruments. The metal gleams off of sharp, pointy or rigged knives. Needles lie in large cylinders in different sizes. This is how they'll kill me. I begin to breathe erratically. A monitor beeps rapidly.

He steps away as I hear a different set of footsteps coming closer. A woman. Her heels click on the hard floor. Her soft perfume reaches my nose. Icy fingers graze my arm.

"No!" I scream. My voice is hoarse. I begin to fight against the strains again.

"Get back!" Carlisle yells at the woman. She backs away.

"She's hyperventilating," she pleads. Her voice is small and empathetic.

"Move!" he shouts again. In an instant, I feel cold sharp metal against my neck. His elbow lifted high over his shoulder holding the knife. His other hand grips the table beside my head. "Do you have any idea how sabotaging your actions were? How stupid? I should slice you from ear to ear," he spits his words. My breaths are deep and constricting. My eyes squeezed shut.

"Carlisle!" The familiar voice roars again from the darkness in warning.

The doctor freezes instantly. I hear metal hit the ground. He's panting angrily as he stares at me. He closes his eyes for a moment to calm himself. "Forgive me. I overreacted." A smirk creeps up his lips. "My manners seemed to have slipped away." He steps back.

"How do you know my mother?" I manage to whisper breaking the silence. It erupts from deep inside me and I couldn't stop it from slipping my mouth. I need to know.

He looks dumbfounded at my question, clearly not expecting me to speak. His eyes widen and narrow just as quickly. "Renee…" he trails off.

I turn to look him in the eyes. Anger heats my neck and cheeks. "Yes, my mother." I annunciate every syllable. I can't stop the anger from seeping through my voice.

"What did they tell you, Isabella? Hm?" He pauses and snaps his coat straight. "Did they tell you how she died? Tell me. How did the Lieutenant lie to you?"

I blink. He knows Charlie. I can't swallow the lump in my throat.

"Tell me." He insists.

"Car accident," I finally whisper, never leaving his intense gaze. My eyes water.

I flinch when the room is suddenly filled with loud echoing laughter. The doctor doubles over as he braces his hands on his knees. His shoulders shake. No one moves or speaks. It only sounds disturbing. "Fucking Charlie," he breathes, calming his hysterics. He wipes his eyes sniffling. "Lying to such a pretty little girl. He always was so weak and moronic."

His demeanor shifts and he's stiff again. The hard lines of his face show and his nose flares with anger as he straightens. "He missed a crucial part, Miss Swan. He didn't tell you she was murdered did he?" he asks shaking his head. "No, of course not. He wouldn't have the guts to tell you that. To tell you the truth." He takes a step closer.

My lip quivers as I fight back a sob with all my strength. "You lie," I seethe, shooting daggers at in his eyes.

"Oh no, darling. Lying is not one of my traits. Ask any one of them," he hooks a thumb over his shoulder. "Remember those Neanderthals following you? At the store…the parking lot…the hospital? Hm? Yes, darling…" he nods running his tongue over his lips. "They killed her. And now they're after you."

I watch as the corner of his mouth lifts and I shake my head furiously. Tears streak my face and I can't hold back any longer. "No…" I whisper. My body shakes.

"Yes," he nods. "They did. I told you I'm not the one you should be worried about."

"No!" I scream. My body convulses in sobs.

He takes one long stride and cups my face in his hands roughly and lifts it. "YES!" he shouts. "They took her life! They took away your mother!"

I grow limp as I hear my grief fill the room. Never in my existence have I felt myself unravel like this. Images of the little bits of memories I hold of Renee flash through my mind. Dark locks of soft hair. The hazel in her eyes. Her hands. My mother.

The doctor's hands soften around my face. His thumbs move over my temples faintly. He pulls away.

Heels click on the floor around me. The metal bed shifts and I'm laid flat. The straps loosen and cold hands rub the reddened tender skin. My hands are free to cover my face.

"Seek me when you'd like your vengeance, Isabella. You have all the time you need," says the doctor from across the room. A door slams shut.

A distressing cry comes out of me at his words. My teeth grind. I fist my eyes feeling my nails dig into my palms. I want to crawl into a hole and never see the light again. I want to scratch out of my skin to take away the pain that crawls over every inch of it. In just a fraction of a moment the only closure, peace and hope I held on to my entire life has been ripped out of me and sent down a dark abyss. My mother.

A hand grips my arm. I snap. Rage rises from my very core and I leap off the cold table in defense. I stagger back away from reach. My bare feet grow frigid against the shiny surface under me. Metal trays shatter to the floor. My arms sweep behind me to get my bearings. I knock over cylinders, liquid spreading in a dark pools around me. They shatter in sharp pebbles.

My eyes adjust. I stare up at a woman's wide eyes. I cut my eyes to a stern glare from a strong built man and shift my focus on a pair of piercing green eyes. My back hits a narrow cabinet. They take one step closer. "Stay back!" I yell.

I turn my body and push with all my strength and watch the cabinet smash on the floor before me. Glass crumbles and spreads over the floor reaching their feet. I shuffle further back.

Move. Run. My conscience is screaming again.A metal table digs into my back. I pant as I reach back and ghost my fingers over sharp scalpels. I fist a hand full tightly in my palm. Faster than my free arm can move, I launch the tray their direction, smacking against flesh. I run when I spot a door. Shouts ring out behind me. I push obstacles in my way, sending crashing echoes around the room.

I turn and flick a knife. I miss. I launch another. A loud grunt filters my ears and adrenaline surges through me in satisfaction. I turn and flick the largest pieces in my hand. Hit. Again. Hit. Hit. My limbs tighten. I grunt with every throw.

"Ali!" shouts one of the men. I turn and sprint for cover after flicking my wrist again. It doesn't hit the ground.

The air shifts. A breeze forces my attention behind me. I turn and flick another and watch it aim at the female. With quick speed, the scalpel stops. My eyes widen. She twists it in her hand with skillful grace. I duck. The scalpel clangs on a metal in front of me. My breath hitches.

"Get the syringe gun!" she orders. Boots shuffle on the ground.

I'm on my hands and knees looking around me for cover. I have to reach the door. A glass divider obstructs the exit. I lift off the ground and flick my last weapon and sprint, diving behind the transparent sheet.

Pop after pop of splinting needles hit the glass, missing me by mere inches. I gasp.

A male grunt echoes behind me as I ram the door open. I feel him at my heels. I whimper as I run and run as fast as I can. Corridors illuminated in florescent lights tighten my pupils. I squint. I can't find an exit in a maze of slick walls.

I steal a glance behind me and a blur of copper hair on fair skin whirls wildly as he runs closely behind. I let out a strangled cry. Fear grips my lungs. I can't find a way out.

His angry growl widens my eyes. I'm airborne. Lights blur and time slows. His grip on my waist. I swallow a scream. BANG. All the air from lungs escapes. My back is against the wall. My arms over my head are twisted in his strong hold.

"Are you done?" His calm breath on my face shows no sign of struggle or fatigue. I breathe in his air, filling my lungs back again as I gulp. My eyes flutter as I stare into his angry eyes. Silence.

Metal gleams in my peripheral. I drop my eyes. A knife tucked in his belt. My conscious encourages me and my muscles tighten.

"No." I respond hissing, glaring in his eyes. Without hesitating, I hook my leg over his bent knee and wrap it around his narrow waist. His grip on my wrists tightens, helping me push off to wrap my other leg around his side. My skin on his rough dark jeans. His eyes widen.

I crane my neck just inches and sink my teeth into his jugular. He growls and releases my wrists to pry me off. With quickness, I reach for the knife and hold it against his bitten skin.

"Point the way out or I'll slice your neck open," I warn between my teeth. He freezes. His hands in surrender. His neck tilts away from the sharp edge against his pulsing vein. I watch his eyes darken through his lashes.

He chuckles.

I grab a handful of his hair with my free hand and yank…hard. He inhales sharply.

"Don't fuck with me. Where is it?" I ask, tightening my legs.

He staggers and groans. His eyes close briefly as a corner of his mouth lifts into a smirk. His lips form words I can't hear. I dig the knife deeper.

He moves. His boots squeak on the shiny floor as he presses my back against the wall—pinning me. His hands on either side of my head. My heart quickens and my grip on the handle tightens. A slit of blood stains the edge. He doesn't even flinch.

"I underestimated you," he whispers. His face inches from mine. "You are certainly not that distorted face I saw on that door step—weak and scared in the shadows. This face suits you." A single finger grazes my cheek. He pauses. "Impressive, Swan…but a massive mistake." His expression grows menacing and hard. "No one touches my knife."

I gasp. With a swift twist of my wrist, his knuckles dig into my jaw as he holds the knife to my neck. I choke.

How?…

"You only get away with this once."

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A/N: A review to feel copper haired guy's rough jeans between your thighs. *shivers* More answers as it evolves. I promise. Thanks.