Disclaimer - I don't own Twilight of the original characters, no copyrite infringement is intended.

Thanks to Rita01TX for making everything read better, Keye for encouraging me with her pre reads and bevey99 and EeWee who wanted to read a motorcycleward. Hugs for the beautiful artwork go to Fallingsnow Winter and Claudia (links on my profile page if anyone hasn't seen them yet.)

A/N Sooo, how's everyone doing clinging to that cliff edge?

Chapter 11

It was proving impossible to get my mind to retreat into any kind of self-preserving numbness. Physically, I was too weak to fight them off so my only hope was maybe, if I could endure, it would be over quickly. Fighting back tears I dared not show, I clinched my eyes shut and tried to recite the Pledge of Allegiance, the names of my old classmates…anything to keep my focus away from the nightmare threatening my body and soul.

Nothing worked.

My body ached all over and I grimaced against the sharp, stabbing pain from my broken rib. Each shallow breath was drawn raggedly into my raw lungs. Maybe I should have been concentrating on unlocking my muscles as much as possible as the more tense I was, the more it was going to hurt but every tightly wound nerve I possessed quivered and trembled in fear.

"Well, well, ladies. Two against one…that just don't seem fair to me," a new voice drawled.

My heart pounded jubilantly, instantly recognizing that rich baritone.

"McCarty!" Laurent sneered, the confirmation making me sag in relief. If I got through this ordeal in one piece, I was definitely getting a "Kermit loves Alice" tattoo in his honor. James loosened his grip on my shoulder and I twisted my head just in time to see him brandishing my blade in Emmett's direction.

Laurent pulled his lips into a wide smirk, his armed goon affording him an air of cockiness. "What the fuck you want, man? You better get the hell out of here or I'll..."

"Or you'll what?" McCarty interrupted with a sardonic chuckle.

Give the devil his due…the guy had huge, hairy balls. Clearly, I was in no shape to back him up in a fight and, with James waving a blade around, this felt like very uneven odds.

"Or I'll beat you to a bloody pulp before I let James take your fingers," he snarled.

McCarty snorted and Laurent practically vibrated with rage, punctuating each word by thrusting his stumpy hand in McCarty's direction. Out in the general population, he'd normally steer clear of him but here, behind a closed door and with two against one, he was beginning to see this as his one shot at getting even.

With Laurent behind me and James to my side pressing one elbow between my shoulder blades, I was struggling to move an inch.

McCarty took one step forward and James lunged, aiming the outstretched weapon straight for his face, and I winced as a large, meaty hand grasped James's forearm by the underside and twisted hard, bending his arm painfully. He squealed as McCarty's free fist punched him with the force of a sledgehammer, simultaneously splitting his nose and lip wide open. James staggered back a few steps, temporarily dazed and bloodied. McCarty took advantage and relieved him of my knife, tucking it quickly into the folds of his jumpsuit.

"You broke by dose, you fuckin' ape!" James screeched as he shoved him hard to the floor.

Laurent's jaw dropped open as McCarty strode past, roughly pushing his shoulder in the process, abruptly loosening his hold on me.

"Hey, thanks...," I coughed as more air finally made its way into my lungs. Holding out a hand, I was shocked when he grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me clear off the table. I was too busy hurting and grabbing my injured side to protest as he spun me around to bring my back flush against his hard body. His spare hand snaked around my waist to fist my junk so hard, all I could produce was a pitiful squeak.

"This! Is MY bitch..." he roared, taking a long swipe along my undamaged cheek with his tongue, "and I won't share him with anyone!"

Shit! I swallowed hard, never imagining for one second McCarty might want me for his own, personal fuck buddy. What the hell was I going to do? I was locked up in the same cell with him every night for the next eight years...

...every night! My knees buckled and, if he hadn't been holding me up, I would've slumped to the floor.

His fingers tightened in my hair, twisting my head until we were facing each other, his eyes staring intently at my dripping wound.

"Just so we're clear…any more damage to my property and I'll be taking restitution from your scrawny hides."

"Pfttt," Laurent blustered, all swagger, but the tick in his jaw gave away an underlying fear.

"Now, I believe you owe me and Cullen here an apology," McCarty crooned malevolently. His eyes danced between Laurent and James who was still huddled on the floor where he'd left him, cradling his bloodied nose with both hands. Neither of them said a word.

McCarty huffed, releasing my hair, and I slumped to the floor. Glancing down at my t-shirt, I noticed the large, spreading bloodstain for the first time. I suppose I should've been scared at the sight of so much blood but I couldn't bring myself to care.

For such a muscle-bound guy, he was quick on his feet. Realizing James was no longer a threat, he lunged for Laurent, delivering a swift punch to his gut before wrapping a massive arm around his throat and squeezing. Laurent flailed his arms, scraping his nails against the inked skin of McCarty's forearm.

"You ready to say it, yet, motherfucker?" he grunted, his biceps bulging against Laurent's jaw.

Struggling to breathe, his eyes darting wildly from side to side as McCarty pulled harder, cutting off his air. Eventually, when his eyes started to roll up in his head, McCarty took pity on him, loosening his grip and letting him drop to his knees. While Laurent gasped, choking on a lungful of precious air, McCarty bent to speak in his ear.

"Say it," he hissed menacingly.

"I...I'm sorry," Laurent gasped, all traces of his earlier bravado gone.

McCarty's eyes flashed to James who jumped like a startled rabbit that had just suffered a glancing blow from a ten ton truck.

"I'm sorry," he cried quickly.

McCarty backed away from Laurent who was busily rubbing at the angry, red marks around his neck.

"Now that we've got that all settled, I'm taking my bitch home to scrub your stink off of him," he announced. With that, he strode over and pulled me to my feet by one arm. I cried out in pain, my ribs protesting such rough treatment. Half supporting, half dragging me to the door, he paused and turned back.

"And, if I were you, I'd clean this mess up...looks like someone had an accident in here."

That was an understatement. A huge stack of folded laundry had toppled in the struggle and there were puddles of blood all over the table and floor.

Roughly dragging my clothing back to my waist, securing it as best he could with one arm wrapped tightly around me, McCarty propped me up, poked his head out the door to check if the coast was clear and hustled us quickly in the direction of our wing.

Physically and mentally, I was way past exhausted. My brain refused to process what had just happened and what might lie in store once we got back to the partial privacy our cell. Even walking normally was proving to be impossible. My legs had turned to jelly, leaving the tops of my toes scraping the linoleum floor tiles.

"Fuck, man! That was close," McCarty muttered under his breath. "I can't believe Molina lost sight of you like that."

"Huh?" My head was swimming. I didn't really know who Molina was although I had a suspicion it might be the skinny, blond guy I'd seen hanging with him when I first arrived.

"I had someone watching you," he said, as if I should have realized...maybe I should. I thought I was being careful, watching out for an ambush, and all the time I was being followed by one of his cronies and hadn't even noticed. He sighed heavily. "It would've been too obvious if I'd been hanging around all the time myself, so I sent him to tail you."

I didn't know what to say. This nightmare was never going to end. Even though I'd been pumping iron, starting to lay the foundation for developing some muscle where it counted, I was never going to be strong enough to overpower him. Besides, if he had guys around the yard he could call on to watch me like hawks, I had nowhere to run.

By now, we were only a dozen or so yards away from our cell and I started feeling lightheaded, a combination of delayed shock and my panic levels creeping through the roof.

"Please, don't do this," I whimpered as we rounded the corner and entered our corridor. Trying to wriggle out of his iron grip, I stumbled and whined, "I can't do this...please don't make me."

He pulled us to a halt, gripping my arms tightly before staring into my eyes. He frowned as his pupils danced between them and I sagged away from him.

"Fuck! Don't you dare black out on me, Cullen! Ya hear?"

The sound of footsteps jolted him into action again. Swiftly bundling me into the nearest cell, he shoved me to the floor before leaning against the bars, whistling like it was perfectly normal to be hanging around someone else's crib.

"What're you doing here, McCarty?" It was one of the guards. From my position crumpled between the bed and the wall, and with him blocking my view, I couldn't see which one. "The sun's shining…shouldn't you be working out?"

"Sprained a muscle, sir," McCarty lied, casually tucking his bloodstained knuckles out of sight behind his back.

"You need to see the doc?" the guard asked and, for a split second, I considered groaning or kicking the bedframe, anything to alert him to my predicament but, if a screw caught sight of my injuries, I'd be dragged in front of the Warden to explain and then it would all come out…James, Laurent, McCarty, the pepper, and my homemade weapon.

The golden rule in this place was you always keep your mouth shut. You never rat...on anyone. Inmates who squealed were vilified and I wouldn't be able to hide in a hospital bed for the rest of my sentence. Even if my story were believed, they'd all still be waiting to nail me when I got back.

"Is that sexy young nurse on duty?" McCarty asked and I raised my eyes to the heavens. The last thing I needed was for him to get all worked up thinking about some bimbo in a tight, starched uniform.

"Bree? Nah. Tony's on today, I think."

"I'll give it a miss, then," McCarty said and the guard chuckled.

"Well, let me know if it gets any worse, okay?"

"Will do," McCarty answered and the guard left, his retreating footsteps echoing off the sickly painted walls.

"Come on, Cullen. I need to get you home before you collapse on me."

Darting into the stranger's cell, he pulled me up from where I'd slid down the wall, tucked me close into his body, and marched us towards our cell. When we got there, he gently pushed me onto his bunk and went straight to the sink, rinsing out a washcloth to clean my wound.

"Shit, this could probably do with stitches," he muttered under his breath as he dabbed at the drying blood. "Who gave that psycho fucker a blade in the first place?"

"I did," I winced as the cool, wet cloth made the cut on my cheek burn. "I made it in shop. He took it away from me..."

"You made a weapon? Fuck, man. I'm impressed," McCarty praised, nodding in approval at my metal working skills, and I couldn't hold it in any longer…the suspense and fear choked me.

"I don't want to be your bitch," I sniveled, feeling my eyes prickle with tears I couldn't afford to let him see and he laughed. Fucking laughed! What the hell? Was this nothing but a big joke to him? A way of getting off on my fear? I scowled at him.

"Calm down, Kermit. You're not my type. Your sister, definitely, but you...not so much," he chuckled, squinting as he concentrated on cleaning up my damaged face.

"Then, why'd you grab my dick and...you...you licked me?" I think my mind had been trying to blot it out, allowing only small, terrifying snapshots to filter through from my subconscious.

"Look, man. If you want those bastards to come after you again, fine. It was all I could think of doing to protect you. They won't touch you if they think I've claimed you."

"So, you don't really want my ass?" I asked, a cool wave of relief washing over me. He shook his head.

"Nah, but I couldn't stand by and do nothing. Not with the nightmares you have...I'd never get a full night's sleep again."

Suddenly, I felt too hot and the room seemed to become elastic as I watched McCarty's face expanding and contracting. My head swayed from side to side as the grey and cream tones of the room turned brightly psychedelic, writhing and melding together. My eyelids fluttered and I fell backwards into a bottomless pit of blackness.

Bright light…clean, crisp and blinding. The bed beneath me felt too comfortable and I wriggled down, enjoying its warm embrace until a sharp pain impaled me and I gasped, holding my side.

"Welcome back, Mr. Cullen."

My head automatically honed in on a sweet, velvety voice. I was stunned to see a beautiful, white clothed angel hovering over me, her pale, delicate features arranged in a sweet smile. Was I dead and, if so, why could I still feel pain? I opened my mouth to ask but my throat was so dry I could only manage a raspy croak.

"Shhh," she whispered, her gentle brown eyes staring deeply into mine as she gently pressed me back into my pillows. "Don't try to speak…I know you're in pain."

My fingers automatically rose to feel along a thick dressing I found covering my cheek. I looked back at my angel. After weeks of grizzled, ugly men, excepting Rose's visit…oh, and that vulgar woman, Vic…Vickie, whatever, her beauty dazzled me.

"Are you an angel?" I asked, still a little disorientated, and she giggled, the sound like tinkling bells.

"No, Mr. Cullen. I'm Nurse Tanner and you're in the infirmary."

Was she the nurse McCarty had mentioned? Bree or was it Bea? If she was, I could understand why he'd been eager to submit himself to her tender care. I glanced around and noticed the row of beds, each with nothing more than a basic bedside table. An unoccupied bed was directly to my right but the one closest to the door was filled by a bulky guy whose wrist was cuffed to the frame. Nurse Tanner followed my line of vision and bent low to whisper in my ear.

"That's Stefan. He's easily agitated. I'd give him a wide berth, if I were you."

Her soft breath caressed my ear and I reveled in its warmth, my nostrils flaring at the sweet, floral scent of her perfume. If I turned my head just a little, my lips would brush against hers. I closed my eyes and imagined how it might feel to actually hold her in my arms, to slide my hands over her firm curves as my tongue slid between those oh so kissable lips. My toes tingled and my dick swelled at the fantasy of being allowed to tug the zipper down the front of her crisp, white uniform.

"You're so beautiful," I blurted, immediately mortified when she scrambled away from my side, her eyes wide, clearly startled by my outburst.

"Mr. Cullen! You seem to have the wrong idea about me...I'm married," she exclaimed.

Fuck! I didn't know what I expected to happen. That she would fall into my arms? Or that I could even have a girlfriend in this place? The very idea was preposterous. Here I was, a supposedly violent, convicted criminal with another seven or eight years of hard time ahead of me, and the slightest hint I might've wanted a relationship of any kind had been enough to scare the hell out of her.

"I'm sorry," I cried, feeling my face heating furiously. "I didn't mean anything by it. I thought I was dead and..."

Her body visibly relaxed and I let go some of the tension I was holding, too.

"Well, you have been out of it for quite a while and you did lose a lot of blood," she reasoned, cutting off my wild babbling

"Do you remember what happened to you?" she asked.

My mind raced to piece it all together. The last memory I had was McCarty cleaning my face so I must've passed out in his bunk. How I got from there to this bed, I had no idea. Glancing at her face, I tried to determine whether I could trust her or if she was pumping me for information. I couldn't be sure, so I played it safe.

"I really can't remember anything."

She watched me with a serious expression for a moment before brightening.

"Well, if anything comes to you, be sure to let me know," she instructed cheerfully, straightening the bed sheet before turning away.

Nodding, I watched her walk away, the tight skirt of her uniform showcasing her curvaceous ass, and sighed, willing my erection to deflate. My life was in the toilet. I was battered, weak, and destined to be a virgin until at least my late twenties.

The top half of the door at the end of the ward had a large glass panel and I watched her speak with a prison guard whose eyes flicked up to look at me. I sagged against the bed, pulling the thin blanket up to my chin. It was probably only a matter of time before I was called to explain my injuries and I had no idea what McCarty might have told them. I didn't want to get us any deeper in the shit than we already were by giving a different account so, after turning it over and over in my head, I decided claiming amnesia was probably the safest option.

For three more days, I remained in that bed. While I was relieved to be in a safe, clinical bubble, away from the general, zombiefied population with a chance to heal at a distance from James and Laurent, a part of me missed the familiar routines of prison life and McCarty and Alec's company.

From time to time, my mind inevitably wandered back to the horror of what might have been if McCarty hadn't intervened. Those were the times waves of panic overtook me. It was worse at night, in the deep quiet of the ward. With just the ceiling tiles to stare at, I would be transported back to the laundry room, still feeling the pressure of James' elbow between my shoulder blades with Laurent's cruel glee sending shivers down my spine. My family would be horrified if they knew what I'd been through but what hurt most was knowing how helpless they would feel…just like me. It didn't bear thinking about so I blinked away any tears of self-pity and concentrated on regulating my ragged breaths. If anything could distract me, it was thoughts of restoring my bike and all the places I would escape to once I was finally free of this hell hole.

They finally took the dressing off my cheek to let air get to it and I saw the stitches for the first time. Whoever had been given the job of sewing me up was never going to win an award for their needlework. Large, uneven sutures puckered the skin in places. For a teenager, I'd never been overly vain, the death of my father putting things into perspective, but it was clear this was going to leave an unsightly scar along the length of my face. Chalk up another reason no girl was ever going to look at me twice.

On the fourth day, I was ruled fit enough to stand before the Warden.

Phew! Narrow escape for our boy. What do you reckon the Warden is going to have to say about it? Put something in the box below and we'll talk ;)

Claire x