AN: So as you can tell, I decided to go with the "put an outtake in the story" route. This is Bree's story, mostly because she's the one I found the most interesting. Between every few chapters, there will be a different person's story.

This one however, is Bree's.

Thanks goes to crazycarter3 for adding what she thought necessary, and TigerWolfPup for beta-ing and proof-reading this story. You girls rock. ;)

Look for your name in the ending Author's Note if you reviewed.

Disclaimer: You know I don't own Twilight.

Warning: Violence. Abuse. Swearing. This is not a good story, people.

"We all have our stories, Jasper. Mine is one I'd rather not reminisce over." -Bree Tanner [Chapter 9: Looking Forward to the Future]

(-)

"Bitch! You get your ass out here! Now!" My father's drunken slur reverberated throughout the house. I stayed in my hiding spot. How was I supposed to know he would get home early. I usually started dinner at 5.

If you can't see them, they can't see you. I hoped that old mantra was in effect. His boots clomped over to where I was hiding. I held my breath in fear. He walked away.

Hopefully he was gone. I climbed out from the shelf in my closet. My feet hit the floor noiselessly. Suddenly my lungs were screaming for oxygen and I couldn't breathe. I was hoisted in the air.

My legs kicked out from under me in an attempt to feel the floor again. My hands, acting of their own accord, tried to pry what was choking me off. I felt a large beefy arm encircling my neck.

Can't. Breathe. He let go, his meaty tentacles unwrapping from my throat. I fell on my front, ignoring the splintering pain in my side. He began kicking me in the back. Shit. Those are gonna leave some bruises.

"You stupid. Fucking. Slut." He punctuated each word with a well-placed kick. My eyes were firmly shut. I didn't even want to see how this looked. He finally stopped kicking.

I groaned in pain. Fuck. Big mistake. His assault on my side got stronger. His kick was so hard it flipped me over. Against my will. He started attacking my stomach.

I winced from the blow. Does he wear fucking size 17 boots or something? The pain is excruciating and unbearable. He finally stops. Emotions roll off him in waves and tides.

Hatred. Amusement. Emptiness. Anger. Pain.

Her mother's death had hit them all hard. She had turned to the comfort of silence and prayer. Her father had turned to the comfort of Jack Daniels. He spent his days working at a gas station, earning minimum wage. He spent his nights with a bottle tucked in his arm and bloody hands.

I stay on the ground, fighting back the tears that well up in my eyes. He spits on me before walking away, slamming my bedroom door on his way out.

I rolled over and bit my lip to hold in the screams. I gingerly touch a hand to my side. I stare at the red wetness coating my fingers that had soaked through my shirt. Probably broke a rib. Or ten.

Pulling myself up to stand and ignoring the burning pain of my body, I limped to the bathroom. I heard the front door slam. He either left or he's back. I wasn't sure, so I stayed in the bathroom where I could pretend for a few seconds that I was safe.

Mom...

I used to cry myself to sleep every night. From the pain of my father's beatings or the pain at knowing my mother wasn't coming back, I wasn't always sure. But I know I cried. I cried and cried and cried until my head hurt intensely and I felt like throwing up.

Vera. Vera Samantha Tanner was my mother's name. She had dark chocolate brown eyes and long wavy black hair. Her enthusiasm and energetic nature were contagious no matter what mood you were in. Her smile made the sun seem brighter.

His name was Jason Scott Jenks. He had ice blue eyes and short brown hair. He was born with a permanent scowl upon his face. My mother had been the only one who could make him smile or even laugh. He was extremely short-tempered and had a set of lungs.

He had met my mom in a charity auction. He was the busy waiter serving food. She was the kind server who spoke to everyone and greeted people by name. A small miscalculation in step and they crashed into each other. Literally.

They spent the rest of the night laughing about the incident and cleaning the food off of each other and then things heated up. Long story short is that the next day, my mother discovered she was pregnant with me.

It was 14 years before my mother was pregnant with another: Henry Michael Jenks. He was supposed to born on April 5th, 2010. Sadly, its the same day on her mother's tombstone.

She died giving birth. Poor little Henry wasn't strong enough to stay alive. He passed shortly after. I had been sad and stony quiet when I heard the news. Her father had been devastated.

The day she died, he had died too.

Now I was 17, a senior in high school, and anxious to hit the legal age. I was 3 weeks from graduation and 14 days from my birthday. I was close.

As I cleaned the cuts and placed gauze over them, I heard the door slam again. Shit. He's back. And just when it was so peaceful around here.

His heavy footsteps alerted me he was coming my way. I stayed in the bathroom, praying he would leave me alone. Please. For once, please. His footsteps went past my room and into his. The door shut again with a slam. I relaxed slightly, but not enough to be thought as really relaxed. I hadn't been relaxed in years.

Not since 3 years ago.

I change clothes, from jeans and a sweater to shorts and an undershirt, and climbed into bed. I said a silent prayer to my mom and Henry. And then I fell asleep.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

I groaned inwardly as I heard my alarm clock ringing. Great. Time for school. My body ached from the beating I'd gotten last night. It was an amazement I hadn't blacked out this time. Usually the darkness was a friend who relieved me of my pain. Last night however, not so much.

Daddy dearest was at work. His job at the cash station brought in some cash, but it was small and he usually spent all of it on beer and drinks. The small amount of money I earned at the convenience store run by Mr. Brandon and his wife helped pay the bills, but we were barely scraping by.

Walk to bathroom. Wash face. Brush teeth. Shower. It was daily routine, and at times it bored me. But hey, it helped me get ready for school, right?

I pulled the gauze off my cut to see a thick long scratch that went from the beginning of my rib cage to my waist. Shit. That is not gonna heal quickly. A quick inventory revealed 4 new bruises along my side and a small mark on my leg. Nothing too bad. I was more focused on the large gash.

I wrapped it in more gauze and gently tugged a pair of jeans on. Stretch cotton long-sleeved shirt. I slipped my converse on without having to bend over.

I walked out of the room with my bag in hand. I checked the fridge for anything I could munch on on my way to school. A pitcher of water, an apple, a granola bar, and 3 cases of beer. I opted for the granola bar.

I chewed as I walked down the street, peeling off the wrapper and setting it in the outdoor trashcan. I noticed the groups of other students headed to school as well. Girls chatted about things like the latest fashion in Teen Vogue or the cutest guy in the class. Guys walked in silence, but still together.

I shook off the feeling of loneliness that threatened to creep up on me. With the school in a see-able distance, I walked faster. I had just reached the parking lot when suddenly my feet hit something hard and I was falling. My bag flew out of my hands. I hit the cement with an audible gasp.

People passing by snickered quietly. Some didn't try to hide it and laughed and pointed openly. My face burned. Humility makes us stronger. Her mother used to tell her that after an embarrassing moment. She grabbed her bag, ignored her throbbing side, and held her head high as she continued to walk to the building.

One girl was still laughing. She stared straight at her with no shame or embarrassment. The girl stopped laughing and looked away.

She had just reached English class when the bell rang. Made it. The teacher, Mrs. Cope, began to drone on and on about participles and gerunds. Bored out of my fucking mind, I pulled out my journal and started doodling random things.

An apple. A pumpkin. A glass shoe. Angel wings. Devil horns. Wizards wand. Fairies and witches and vampires and werewolves.

It reminded me of First Light. An interesting book by a woman named Stacy Magnus. I thought the girl, Beatrice, was stupid. She had wallowed in self-pity because her boyfriend, Eli, a vampire, left her. She had plenty of boys to choose from, like her werewolf friend Joseph, and still she took him back.

I reminded myself of her every time. If I ever got a boyfriend, I would never be that weak.

School droned on. The lunch bell brought with it happiness. The halls were filled with the sounds of laughter and the smell of lasagna. Mmhmm. Lasgna...

I sat at my own personal lunch table and pulled out a book. Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. If people knew I was a Harry Potter fan, they would laugh me out of school.

Ah well. 3 more weeks. 21 days. And then I was done. I could go anywhere, do anything. I would be free. Forever.

Everyone's attention was directed towards the side doors. Standing there was a girl with dark brown hair that hit the middle of her back. She had light blue eyes that scanned her surroundings with accuracy and caution. Next to her was a guy with messy black hair and a scratch on his left cheek. His icy blue eyes darted from table to table, surveying the cafeteria.

In walked a girl with wavy silver blonde hair that hung to her shoulders. Her face was contorted into a grimace and her light green eyes were cast down at the floor. A dark skinned boy with dreadlocks and big lips had his arm wrapped around her. He whispered something in her ear and she nodded slightly.

The last to walk in was a boy with pale blonde hair and gray eyes. He had an air of confidence that surrounded him, and he smiled at some of the students he passed. He almost seemed normal.

And then I saw the tattoo of an ice cube on his arm. The mark of the Cold Ones.

I kept my head down, eyes on the book. I could feel his burning gaze, staring at me. Out of the corner of my eye, I chanced a look. Yep. I was right. Before he could walk near me I grabbed my book and bag and swiftly walked out the doors.

I spent the rest of lunch in the girl's bathroom, reading and munching on an apple from the cafeteria until the bell rang.

My class after lunch was Biology. I was a smart girl, but I hadn't received enough credits in the class and had failed my freshman year. Now I was taking the chance to get all the credits I needed.

Today's topic was Pedigrees. The teacher babbled about the X chromosome and Y chromosome and diseases and syndromes. I had already learned all this stuff. I already knew X was a girl and Y was a boy. From the looks of things, everyone else in the class knew it too. Did she think we were idiots?

She moved on to handing out worksheets of Punnett squares and different diseases. Female had Down syndrome. Male didn't. Would their children have it. She makes this too easy.

After filling in all the answers, I turned the paper in and asked for the bathroom pass. She seemed a little disgruntled that I had finished so quickly. But it was only because I had no one to talk to while I worked.

I took the little green slip and walked to the bathroom. A hand stopped directly in front of me. I looked up. Standing in front of me was the boy from earlier. The ice cube tattoo was evident on his arm. I backed up.

"Hi, Bree." he said softly. I knew better than to trust that voice. "What do you want?" I asked angrily. He stopped for a moment. His eyes held anger and determination. "I want you to join my gang."

The fuck? Why?

I gave a forced laugh. "You want me to join your stupid gang? The gang that kills people for no goddamn reason and steals only to do it? No thanks, but I'm sure it's a fine offer."

"You don't know what you're doing-" he started, but I effectively cut him off. "I know exactly what I'm doing. I'm saying no. I will not join your idiotic, stupid, repulsive gang. Good-bye." I growled.

His hand on my shoulder spun me around, and his arms grabbed both of mine. He squeezed the already bruises. The pain echoed throughout my body. Don't show him any fear. I chanted inwardly.

He gave me a cold smile that chilled me from head to toe. He released me and I stumbled backwards, away from him. "I always get what I want, Bree. Remember that." He was backing away, and then he turned and rounded the corner.

The tears slipped out my eyes before I could stop them.

-[2 weeks later]-

It was May 29th. My birthday. I was finally 18. I smiled at the thought of the fact that I wouldn't even have to go home today. I could hid in the school and sleep here. Anything to keep from going home to my father.

It was sunny, a rare entity in Forks. I hadn't thought anything about Riley or James or Victoria. I hadn't any reason to. 2 days from my first encounter with him, I found Victoria and James stalking me. I told them to leave me alone or they would find out how deadly the blade in my shoe was.

They backed off, even though it was a totally ill conceived lie. I didn't carry a blade because I didn't own one. If I did however, they would have been gutted by now. The next day, I made sure to pick one up.

Sadly, I still had to go home and grab my journal. The one that held all my feelings after my mother died. It was a stupid journal, considering I hadn't written in it for a year now. I still didn't even want to go home.

School ended, and I couldn't help but think about how bad I wanted that journal. It was my savior at times. I decided I would go home and get it. As fearful as I was about my dad, I did have a blade and knew how to use it. Time had brought with it practice.

As soon as I stepped in the door, I felt a feeling of dread. I began to notice little things. The TV wasn't on like it usually was. The front door hadn't been locked. There was no beer on the table next to the arm-chair.

Riley stepped out the back-room with a cold smile on his face. My insides turned to ice. "Hello, Bree." he greeted me, as if I was guest in his home.

Anger flared through me. "What are you doing here." I demanded. Stupid, stupid move, I berated myself. What if he had a gun? How could I stop him from killing me?

The sound of painful screams stopped my thoughts in their tracks. I knew that voice anywhere. Dad. I turned back to Riley. He had a smug grin on his ugly face. "What are you doing to him." I whispered in horror as the screams grew louder.

He shrugged. "Nothing much. Just poking him with hot coals." he said nonchalantly, and stepped closer to me. I was too frozen in fear to step back. "Of course, you can stop it Bree."

"How?" I said, my eyes sliding to his. He looked straight into my eyes. "Join my gang." My heart stopped cold. I was about to shake my head when I heard my father's pained screams again. No part of me felt that this was revenge. The years of abuse were nothing compared to this.

"Yes." I whispered. I stared at him, the familiar prickling in my eyes coming back. Another scream. "Yes." I said a little louder. He continued to smile at me. The screams kept coming.

"I said yes, goddamnit!" I yelled at him. He turned from me and walked to the back-room. He stuck his head in the door. "Finish this up and let's go." I didn't know who he spoke to. As he placed a hand on my shoulder and steered me to the door, I heard a loud bang. The slap of the wooden chair on the floor rang in my ears.

I stopped holding them in. The tears streaked down my cheeks, and I collapsed in the welcome darkness.

I woke up laying on a mattress in the corner of a small room. The girl with silver blonde hair was holding a cool sponge to my forehead. Her lips were pursed tight in a straight line. Her light green eyes flickered to mine before focusing on my head again. She pressed the sponge down, trickling water into my face.

I sat up and eyed her warily. Was she like them? Another person who would use things to manipulate me? She stared at me and moved away. "My name is Irina." she spoke. Her voice sounded throaty and broken.

"Bree." I said, not taking the time for formalities. Why would you? You've been forced into a gang of killers. She held out an apple for me.

My stomach growled. Traitor. I reached for the apple slowly, being careful in case it was trick. As soon as my hand was hovering over it, I snatched it from her quickly. I was about to bite in when my mind betrayed me. What if it's laced with poison?

It was almost as if she could read my mind. "It's not poisoned or anything. I didn't do anything to it." I still stared at her. She sighed and took from me. My fingers didn't want to let go of it. She took a bite and handed it back to me.

I waited a few minutes. No screaming in pain, no fainting, no falling. She was just smiling at me, eyes flickering to the apple and then back to me. I took a tentative bite, ready to spit it out the second I thought something was in it.

I chewed. Swallowed. Nothing. I didn't feel the least bit different. My sides ached, but that was normal. I took another bite. She smilied again, this time getting up.

I noticed her jeans had a hole in the thigh. She followed my gaze and sighed again. "You might want to get used to it. Because it's all we have."

I looked down and noticed the fact that I wasn't wearing the same khaki pants and red t-shirt I had on the day Riley showed up. I was now wearing a button-up white t-shirt and black skinny jeans like Irina's.

She walked towards the door. "I'm sorry about your father." she mumbled. I froze. Was she there? Again, she read my mind. "I wasn't there. I just...know." she explained. She opened the door. I shielded my eyes from the bright light. "You can come out when you're ready."

I didn't think I would ever come out. Maybe I would stay here, in this room, forever. Irina would bring me my meals, because she felt some sort of pity for me or something. I would be the thing that slowed Riley down. And then maybe the police would catch him.

I curled back up onto the mattress and closed my eyes. Dreamless sleep was now my favorite companion.

The door banged open. Sunlight streamed through the window that I hadn't noticed the first time I'd woken up. My eyes stayed firmly shut, scared to see who was awaiting me.

"Get up." I heard the harsh demand. I opened my eyes and they took a few seconds to adjust to the light. Cold gray eyes stared at me. I stifled the urge to scream as the discomfort in my arm grew. His hand was gripping me painfully tight. "Get the fuck up!" he roared.

I scrambled to my feet. He tugged me out the door of my sanctuary and slammed it shut. I could feel my body trembling. His hand was raised. I shut my eyes and prepared myself for the blow.

"Riley, stop! She's not used to things around here. I'll teach her." I heard someone plead. Irina. My eyes opened and I stared at the 2 of them, her tiny hands on his large one, keeping him from slapping me. "Fine." he spat. "But she better learn good!"

She nodded solemnly. He grabbed her hair and pulled it back, exposing her throat. "Never stop me from punishing someone. Or you'll be next." he growled. She whispered a weak, "Yes, Riley." He let go of her and turned to me.

SMACK!

My cheek stung. I touched a hand to it in wonder. I hadn't even seen it coming. I looked up at him. "First lesson." he snarled. "No one can stop me from hitting you."

I rubbed my cheek as the feeling came back to it. He stared at me, waiting for an answer. "Yes, Riley." I said, copying Irina. His eyes narrowed and I looked down. Shit. What did I do wrong? Apparently nothing, sonce he walked away.

Irina stared at me. "First lesson." she said. "Is that whenever Riley speaks to you, you respond back. Either a 'yes, Riley' or 'yes, sir' will work. If you don't wanna get smacked, you'll do well to remember that." She put an arm around me and lead me to a make-shift kitchen.

It had an oven, a 4 piece stove, some pots and pans, and a couple of glasses. I saw 3 to 4 normal plates. All other plates and cups were paper and Styrofoam, and the few forks and spoons were made of plastic. "How well can you cook?" she asked.

"Pretty well."

"Good. You can help prepare dinner tonight."

Irina explained everything to me as she mixed, poured, and baked. Riley and a few other people ate with the plates, glasses, and utensils. Everyone else got paper plates and Styrofoam cups. "So he thinks he's a king in a make-believe kingdom." I stated flatly. She glanced towards the door and shushed me.

"Don't ever talk about him that way. In his world, this is a kingdom. He thinks that someone should be in charge at all times." I stared at her blankly. Maybe she caught the same crazy disease Riley did.

"Sometimes I wonder what life would be like if no one was in charge. Do you wanna know the answer?" she turned to look at me. Her intense focus had me befuddled. "Chaos. Complete and utter chaos. People would be running around killing one another for nothing. At least with him in charge, there's order. Rules. I don't like 'em, but at least there are any at all."

Her speech had me wondering how long she'd lived here. "Irina?" I asked. "Yes?" she said without taking her eyes off the mixing bowl. "How old are you?"

She stopped what she was doing. Her hand froze in it's position. I was almost afraid she had actually frozen, when she spoke. Her voice sounded haunted and catatonic. "22. I'm 22 years old. I've been here for 4 years."

I turned my question to something else. "What's my next lesson?" She snapped out of her trance and turned to look at me. "What?"

"You said you'd teach me. What's my next lesson?"

She chuckled darkly. "Trust me, there's a lot. Here, you never stop learning."

Second lesson: Riley was a sexist pig. I learnt that one real quick.

Irina led me out to a room with large tables and millions of fold up chairs. I told her it was surprise I hadn't seen this before. She said it was because when they first brought me here I'd been out cold.

Tons of people gathered around the tables and and sat down. They made loud, boisterous conversation. That is until Riley walked in. The entire room got quiet as he walked in and sat down. At the head of the table. Of course. Can't have anyone mistaking the king for a lowly commoner.

There was my inner bitch again. She was gonna get me in trouble if I wasn't careful.

I saw all the women standing on the sides of the room, heads bowed. Irina was staring at someone. A dark man with black dread-locks and big lips. He turned to look at her and blinked before turning his attention back to Riley. Irina cast her eyes down to the floor again.

I noticed there were no women eating at the table. Only men. Sexist son of a bitch. I silently fumed at the treatment. The silence was deafening, loud yet quiet. Riley snapped his fingers, and the women lining the walls started to head back towards the kitchen.

'Follow me.' Irina mouthed.

I walked with them to the kitchen. Mounds and mounds of beans piled into large pots were handed off. 2 mountains of biscuits were carried out the door. Irina handed me one of the many pitchers filled with iced tea and I obediently took it. Copying the other women, I walked back to the eating room and stood waiting to the side.

Several women had their arms weighed down with the giant pots of beans. I saw one girl who was younger than me struggling to hold it up. A small bell appeared next to Riley's hand. It was silver, with a wooden handle and reminded me of those bells you saw during Christmas.

He rang it and it gave a tinkering sound. The loud talk resumed. Women stepped forward and placed the mountains and piles of food onto the long tables. Irina had started filling cups with iced tea. I followed her lead and began to do the same.

"Bree!" I heard my name called. Every voice in the room hushed. Riley was smiling at me and pointing to his empty glass. "You missed me." he replied sickeningly. I plastered a fake smile onto my face and stepped to his side. "I'm sorry, Riley." I apologized. I glanced at Irina from the side and pleaded with my eyes. Help me.

She looked up at me and nodded subtly. She poured tea into another man's cup and stepped back. I mimed her actions. Pour. Step back. Riley took a sip and waved a hand. The conversation returned.

After filling other peoples cups and glasses, I headed back to the kitchen. Irina was there, mixing some sort of dough with sprinkles in it. Of all places to bake a cake, she chooses this one?

I sat down on the stool next to hers. She offered me a small smile before going back to mixing, eyes watching the bowl. I spoke before thinking about it. "Irina, why are you here?"

She froze. This is the second time she's done that. I needed to be more careful about what I said around her. She had been trying to help me. She had tried to stop Riley from smacking the shit out of me. She had been trying to teach me, and I was being an ungrateful snob by asking personal questions.

"Riley killed my family. I came here afterwards." Her face was blank as she spoke, her voice detached and emotionless. She didn't look like she wanted to talk about it any further, so I decided not to push my luck. But there was one other question that needed to be addressed. "Why am I here?"

She looked at me out of the corner of her eye. I stared back, refusing to back down. Being stubborn has to come in handy some time.

"Women are...worthless to Riley. You have to understand, he's had a rough life. He probably wasn't always this way. Not everyone is born evil." Yeah, sure. Just like not everyone is born with a brain.

"We hold no use to him. We are merely his cooking servants, in a sense. He see no use for us, and we find him a monster. He chooses those who are invisible. Young girls he take have to have some skill. Shooting. Cooking. Fighting. Anything he finds not worthless or even a small hint of meaning." He chooses those who are invisible.

It suddenly made sense. Why it was me. Or for a more accurate statement, why he had chosen me in the first place.

Riley was smart. That was a solid gold fact. He had probably done his research. Bank records. Police statements. Important dates. Number of times Social Services was called. He knew I had no friends, no family, no one who would miss my disappearance. He had either looked for a specific girl and got stuck with me or I was exactly what he had wanted all along.

I didn't know which option was scarier.

I stared at Irina. The answers were clicking. The gears were turning in my head. What was so special about being invisible? What did he want from us, exactly?

"What is he looking for?" I was wary, cautious of the answer. The flashing lights and warning bells were going off in my head. I was in trouble, and I was about to get deeper.

Dive too deep and you wind up with a sore head.

My mother used to say that. She would warn me whenever I delved deeper into things. Like the time I was hard pressed to get a boyfriend because Allison Winsry had one. In the end, I got turned down and shut up. Not to mention I got stood up. I cried for a whole 2 weeks and ate nothing but Ben&Jerry's ice cream.

"He's looking for talent. His gang is having a bit of trouble with police. No one's been caught yet, but he desperately needs an escape artist. He recently found this red-head with a knack for it. She could spell trouble for all of us."

"Why?"

"The girl's a living, breathing escape machine. Not only that, but she's not registered in any records he could find. No police files. No birth information. Nothing but a name."

"Who?"

"Victoria Stahlcorze."

AN: Okay, I am so, so, so sorry I am so damn late with this update. I know, I know, no excuses to make up for this. I've been so busy with going back to school and upcoming HSA's, not to mention I have finals soon as well. And I take Child Development, which means the little kiddies graduate soon.

I decided to divide my little chapter thingies up, since this one is pretty damn long. I already finished a couple other things, but I have a project that's due the beginning of May and that needs to get finished. ASAP.

So, I hope you all forgive me for being so airheaded. I'll try to update as promised from now on. Reviewers get a preview of the next chapter, which is Edward's POV of Chapter 9. Hope you all enjoy your weekend and major thanks for reading. Buh-bye.

Reviewers of the Last Chapter: kgq, Melbi, Momo16, unicorn55, DreamingPoet1988, RockinThatAfroPic, Tash 4 Twilight, Raeya, Kar3 B3ar, xkeepingthemoonx, flutterfli

~Cal