A/N and Disclaimer: I do not own Alice, Bella, or any of Stephanie Meyer's creations... Izzy is my own character created in the depths of my mind. Gothic Sanctuary is a song by Nightwish, a very kick-ass band. You should listen to them. All chapter titles are titles of the band Nightwish's songs. Again, listen to them. Oh, this is where things start getting "M" rated, so don't read it if you don't want to read f/f. (Also has sex, drugs, and rock and roll! Yeah! Lol)

Recap: Alice smiled, uncertain and afraid. Afraid for what?

Afraid for me.

I slipped a little further off the edge of a ravine from which I could not return. My vision was going black, my eyes felt as though they were sitting in syrup. It was like I was drunk, but my only drug was Alice.

"Izzy?"

Fuck, I was falling. Down, down, down… Farther than any one person should be. The floor was meeting me again, the entire world spinning out of control because there was sobbing and screams and pleading and I didn't know what to do.

Save me.

Chapter Thirteen: -slaying the dreamer-

"Izzy, come here you slut! Where the fuck is my stash?" Travis was steaming mad at me. His eyes were wild, deep, dark, and needful.

I cowered beneath his glare, knowing that he had to have his shit, or I'd look like shit. His shit.

"I don't know," I whimpered, backing myself up into a corner. We were alone in the house again, with me watching the television for once. I never sat down; I always stood, not sure when I would be running for my life.

"Well you better fucking find out or get me more!"

He hit me, blood flooding my mouth from the reopened cut on my lip. It tasted sweet, delicious, but not like food. Food was shit.

You're high as fuck.

"High as a fucking bird," I muttered, crawling choppily away from him. If I attempted to walk, he would beat me more.

Summer lovin' had me a blast. Summer lovin', happened so fast.

It was the middle of summer. Hot, sweltering Minnesota summer in the middle of a farm where no one could hear you scream or cry when you felt like dying and the one person your age wants to use you for sex and drugs and beats you for no reason.

I was nowhere and I was nothing. Sanda Istrati, seventeen year old Romanian orphan, didn't exist. I was only Izzy, Iz, slut, whore, bitch, cock-sucker, fake, fat-ass, crack-head, tweaker.

I went into Uncle Matthew's room, knowing he probably stole Travis's stash. Uncle Matthew and Aunt Carla, what a joke. They were the foster parents here, and they insisted on being called Aunt and Uncle, like they were family. To me, they were the fosters. The two people in the world who had the power to stop what Travis and his friends were doing to me, and they, themselves, abused me. Hence, my deep fascination with my little white and round friends. It was crazy.

Crazy? I was crazy once, they put me in a room, a round room, a round white room. With rats, round rats, white round rats. It made me crazy…

I found Travis's dope, crack, shoot, and various other things beneath the bed. I knew I'd find it, but none-the-less, I also knew that Travis would still 'punish' me.

"I found it, Master," I called out, gently handling his shit and carrying it to my room. He never hurt me in his, I wasn't even allowed in there. I knew where he expected me to be, sitting on the floor, Sub position.

Little black dot, big white room, little black dot, big white room.

I placed his things in front of me, only bothering to fish yet another tab of acid out of my pocket and placing it under my tongue. It took me out of my body, my mind.

The sweet escape is always laced with a familiar taste of poison…

I was dying, the walls stained red with my blood, with my hope, dreams, hatred, hurt.

"I can't keep denying what you're always supplying. Give me what I deserve, a deep seeded hatred, darkness." I was talking to myself again. I always talked to myself. Sometimes, between the voice living in my head and the voices outside, it was the only one I thought was real.

The walls were talking to me when Travis walked in and kicked me over. I knew better than to tell him he was interrupting my conversation. Besides, the colors were confusing me and I was afraid of his boots, leering, hating.

"Everything is hate." I made the mistake of muttering my thoughts out loud. I was on a bad trip. He glared at me, kicking me hard in the stomach. I wretched, gasping for breath.

"Shut the fuck up, bitch! Did I say you could talk?!" He spat on me and I whimpered in response.

"Fucking cunt!"

He ripped off my shirt and my bra, literally ruining the clothes I had spent forever repairing from our last encounter. Travis was hatred and sorrow and I hated him but I loved him because he made me feel something when I felt nothing.

"Get on your knees!"

I didn't want to, it hurt and I could never figure out what he wanted until he was already doing it. Last time I was choking down my own underwear while he whipped me repeatedly. I was even tied to the bed.

It isn't supposed to be like this, I'm supposed to be happy. I'm breaking, dying, lying to myself. Where did I go?

I pushed myself to my knees, biting my lip to hide my pain, dull and thumping in my ears. My mouth tasted of my blood, red, full, tasting like love and hate and hatred fills me when I can't find everything. Everything is hate.

"Did you take anything?"

I shake my head, nauseous, wondering why I'm obsessed with hatred. He hit me; Travis hit me again, sending me wheeling to the floor. I can feel myself shrink.

"Don't you fucking lie to me, bitch! What the fuck did you take?!'

He was angry. Why was he angry? He was always trying to get me high, tripping on something, anything so he can fuck me. I was his, always will be his, even with his name marked on my skin, in my heart, my soul, my mind. I belonged to Travis.

I shook my head again. I was kicked while I was down, bleeding and broken and nothing made sense, not even the leering combat boots that spiked at the edges and hurt when they connected with my body.

"Piece of shit! What the fuck did you take? I'm not asking again!"

I tried to tell him, but my tongue was thick and heavy and all I could do was mumble about his shoes. They glared at me all the more, sneering at my awful articulation. It wasn't fair that he was punishing me for doing what he was always asking, but it was what happened, and it happened to me.

He pushed me so I was on my back, yanking my skirt off. I was never allowed to wear jeans. He refused to let me wear them, and I was marked as his by wearing only what he said I could. The collar that choked me if I moved my head wrong was doing just that, choking me. There wasn't an escape.

"Slut, you took a tab, didn't you? You aren't allowed to have those without my permission!"

I'm not allowed anything without your permission, Master. I'm only allowed to sit and rot and bake inside the oven of hell.

I'm on the highway to hell…

He picked me up and threw me on the bed. I was too tiny, but never small enough for him. I hit my head on the wall and saw stars. I knew it was going to happen though.

How did I get like this? To expect nothing but pain and disappointment and hate? What the fuck is wrong with me?

The same thing that's wrong with me. We have each other and that's okay! Cause one of these days you'll be on your way!

"If you're going to act like a slut than you're going to be treated like a slut," Travis hissed as he climbed onto the bed. He grabbed my wrists and tied them to the bed posts. They began to feel numb immediately and I knew he had once again tied them too tight.

"Master, the knots are too tight…" He didn't let me finish, opting to make the knots tighter instead of looser.

"What did I say about talking without permission, you dirty slut?!"

I whimpered, my moans of pain being mistaken for moans of pleasure. I didn't want to anger Travis anymore, so I kept quiet. It was always safer to stay quiet.

Travis leaned into my ear and whispered," they say they are going to send you away before long. They don't want you, just like all the other homes. Only I want you, only I need you. Why can't you love me back?"

I didn't know if he wanted me to answer, so I didn't. All I could think about was that I didn't love him, I didn't love anything. There was only Hate.

I bit my lip hard to keep from making any more sound as he entered me. Travis was huge, hard, and he always hurt when he fucked me. He made it hurt. He always hurt me, groped my breasts and pounded my pussy until I was so sore I couldn't move an inch without pain shooting through my body.