"All these ups and downs trip up our good intentions, nobody said this was easy, right? …'Cause all I see is ruin and devastation, we all need someplace we can hide inside…"

Jon Mclaughlin, Human

Adonica's POV

I felt a cool breeze brush past my bare arms and I held my breath just in case.

Beep.

Where was I? I inhaled, the smell of medical alcohol and hand-sanitizer filling my nostrils.

Beep.

I felt that familiar feeling of dread settle into my stomach and my heart began to pound in fear. That smell was never associated with something good.

Beep!

The smell reminded me of them.

I counted to three in my head and the sound came again. It was consistent.

Beep!

It was insistent as well, it seemed.

The sound was becoming annoying. I quietly inhaled through my mouth before hesitantly opening my eyes.

The bright lights above me were blurry through my tears.

I tried to think of what could have possibly happened to make me end up here and gasped when I remembered.

Damn you, Anita! I couldn't help but think angrily to myself.

"Oh, Jesus Christ!" I weakly sighed in disgust before letting out a whimper, feeling stupid and childish.

I swallowed down the lump and looked around me, taking in my surroundings. "Just calm down, Donnie." I whispered to myself, taking in deep breaths to calm myself but the smell of the hospital never failed to make me feel fearful.

Weakly and carefully, I lifted my hand to wipe away my tears but gasped when I found that it was completely covered by those annoying white wraps.

"Oh, goddammit!" I cried, my voice hoarse as I broke into tears again, feeling absolutely stupid and frightened.

Then a thought struck me and I froze. I glanced down at the covered figure of my body, swallowing down the lump that was forming in my throat again.

I still had healing bruises from Jarrod's funeral and wondered what new ones were there because of Anita.

Very slowly, and very carefully, I lifted the blanket from my body, meaning to have glanced and then quickly divert my eyes but my eyes were glued to the sight.

Hospital gowns are very thin, practically transparent (I don't even understand why they're called 'gowns') but it was see-through enough for me to see the damage done.

The tears spilled out of my again and I bit my lip to keep myself from sobbing, I took in a deep shaky breath and plopped my head back into the pillows.

I raised my good hand to the back of my head and gently touched where it felt itchy and realized I had stitches right where the back of my neck ended and my head began.

It hurt to even cry at this point so I closed my eyes and kept them close until I was asleep.

Third-Person POV

Sören knew she should've been used to seeing Donnie this way by now, after all those years, it still shouldn't surprise her.

Since the day Adonica was born, Sören knew her daughter wasn't meant to have an easy life.

There had been terrible complications after Adonica had been born, and up to this day her daughter still seemed to have complications in her life that Sören couldn't seem to understand.

To Sören, her daughter would always be her baby, so of course it hurt her to see Donnie hurt once again, lying on a hospital bed with tear stains on her cheeks, just like the day she had been born.

But that didn't stop her from bursting into tears, placing her hand over her heart in a way that Jarrod and Fernando used to describe as 'melodramatic'.

"Oh, babygirl!" Her voice cracked and she kneeled down gracefully beside the hospital bed, taking in the sight of her daughter.

Her daughter's face wasn't scarred, although she had some mysterious bruises on her neck and cheekbones, which Dr. Cullen had declared seemed to be recovering bruises, looking to have been a week old.

Sören cried as she kissed her daughter's good hand. The other was completely covered up, Donnie had stitches on her wrists, fingers, and knuckles.

"Please!" Sören sobbed like a mad woman as she ran her fingers through her hair in despair as she always did when feeling anguish, she knew they could probably hear her outside but she didn't care. This was her baby, and she was hurt.

"Please, just tell me who's hurting you! I'll kick their ass, Donnie…" but her words were trailed off as she broke into sobs again, cradling her daughter's small hand against her cheek.

She pressed a kiss to her daughter's hand, sobbing and hiccupping before clearing her throat.

"You know, I think perhaps I made us move over here just for my own purpose. I wanted so desperately for you to be safe and for all of us to start anew without your father." Sören knew her daughter probably couldn't hear her, but she had to let this out, and it was even better that Donnie was unconscious.

Sören was never the type to admit her mistakes so easily.

"I thought," Sören was cut off by her hiccupping sob, "I thought perhaps all these… panic attacks would go away, honey."

She bit her lip and swallowed down the lump in her throat and wiped her tears away quickly. Sören had never really been used to crying so freely, it had always made her feel stupid.

The red-haired woman sat up immediately when she heard her daughter move slightly, before opening her eyes.

Donnie coughed weakly. She forced herself to swallow, trying to ease the dry sensation in her throat and licked her lips, flinching when she felt slight pain, realizing she had bit her lip a little too hard before.

"Oh, Adonica! Thank God!" Sören exclaimed as she hugged her daughter. She immediately drew back when Donnie grunted; Sören's hug crushing her stitches.

"Oh, forgive me!" Sören sniffled, wiping her tears as she pulled away, her lips trembling as she gave her daughter a sad smile.

Donnie began to tremble now; fear catching up with her now that she was more aware and well rested, and it did not escape Sören's attention that her daughter's green eyes widened.

But Sören learned long ago that whenever Donnie began to feel afraid, it was better to act as if nothing was happening. So she leaned forward and gently began to brush her fingers through her daughter's hair. She frowned a bit when she realized that there was still a bit of glass in Donnie's hair.

"Oh, you need a shower…" She murmured more to herself but continued, looking down at her daughter's pale and frightened face with the love that only a mother's face could convey.

"Look, darling, Dr. Cullen told me you'd be able to go back home in about two days! You're going to be okay, darling! Of course, you'll have a few scars…" Sören let her voice trail off when she saw her daughter flinch.

The older woman cleared her throat a bit awkwardly but kissed her daughter's temple softly.

"You're going to be fine, Donnie. I'll make sure of that, sweetheart." She vowed and Donnie knew she meant it, which made her feel better.

Sören gave her daughter a small smile before saying, "Seth is here. He's been here since I called. Leah's here too, but I'm guessing you'd rather just see Seth." Sören chuckled gently, caressing her daughter's cheek.

Donnie's green eyes went wide again as Sören got up walked to the door, not wanting to be alone but she stayed silent anyway.

Sören turned when she got to the door, "You know, darling, Seth really cares for you. I suggest you show him a bit more appreciation, dear, a man will not wait forever, you know."

And with that, the older red-haired woman exited the room.

With her mother gone, Donnie began to feel both nervous and paranoid. There was a bit of an unfocused dazed look in her eyes as she looked around in panic, her breath coming out in loud gasps and the machine monitoring her heartbeats was beeping loudly.

She took in a deep breath and no more than ten seconds later Seth barged in, his dark eyes wide and anxious.

Donnie felt anxious fear clutch her heart when she saw his wide dark eyes inspecting her body quickly, secretly hoping that Seth wouldn't be disappointed with her upon realizing she would have permanent scars on her body.

It was hard to read his eyes but he rushed to her and pulled her into his arms, his large and warm hands were surprisingly gentle as he cradled her against him, assuaging the fear Donnie felt.

Seeming to awaken from what little daze she was in, Donnie let out all the tears she had held in, clinging to Seth's shirt.

"I was so scared, I was so scared…" Seemed to the only words that could escape Donnie's mouth. She had wanted to tell him how much she missed, how sorry she was for being so inconsiderate of him, and how much she wanted to have him with her always.

But she couldn't bring herself to say anything.

That sweet smell that Seth could never give a name to filled his nostrils, it was Donnie's scent, the purest and sweetest thing that had ever filled his lungs. He found it curious that this scent was something that never left Donnie no matter what the situation.

Donnie seemed a bit thinner to him now, letting a little hurt pierce his heart when he remembered how Donnie shunned him from her house and practically her life. But he couldn't help but gently rock her back and forth and she clung to his shirt and cried.

She heard Seth take in a sharp breath, the steady drumming of his heart against her ear making her feel safe, taking in the familiar scent of pine and that gentle smell that Donnie could never name.

"Well," Seth began, his voice vibrating deep in his chest, making Donnie shiver as Seth held her closer, "I'm here, Donnie. And nothing can scare you now."

Nothing. Donnie repeated to herself, a small smile coming up her lips as Seth pulled away just to wipe away her tears.

Having to hold back a chuckle, Seth realized his hand was practically bigger than Donnie's face.

She took his hand and placed a kiss on his palm, "I'm so tired of being afraid, Seth." She sighed like a tired child, resting her pale cheek against his warm hand.

Seth placed a kiss on her head, grimacing when he caught sight of a tiny sparkly object on her head.

Glass.

I'll ask Carlisle to send a nurse to bathe her. He thought to himself.

"I won't let anything hurt you, Donnie. Ever." He promised.

Donnie cleared her throat, the lump forming at her throat causing her to feel much more thirsty. As if reading her mind, Seth asked, "You thirsty?"

Without waiting for her reply, Seth got up and got the large plastic cup and the ridiculous plastic straw, filling it with water from the jar on the tray.

Donnie watched his effortlessly graceful movements, and the focused and worried frown settled on his lips and eyebrows.

The Quileute shape-shifter was aware of the pair of green eyes focused on him as he filled the plastic cup with water, even in Donnie's current state, she was still able to make him feel giddy to find that she liked him. Or at least, liked watching him.

He returned to her side and placed the straw in her mouth, Donnie closing her eyes as she took in large gulps of water until she had finished the entire thing.

"I'll refill it again." He said, getting up but not before squeezing her hand.

"Thank you." Donnie murmured, keeping her eyes on him. She absent-mindedly noted that the heart-monitor's beeping had calmed.

Donnie and Seth had had enough of falling, being broken and losing loved ones. At the end of falling, love must come at some point. And this was it for them.

Sören's words rang in Donnie's ears and she couldn't help but allow herself to smile a little.

It was true.

Seth cared so much for her.

She had been foolish to dismiss it as a simple or temporary thing, not wanting to get her hopes up before but now hope was the only thing she had.

Seth was the first and only man she had ever let herself care for, and she let him care for her the way her father had cared for her mother.

If the world was to suddenly freeze over and time stopped, she'd want time to stop when she was Seth. There was no one else she would rather be with forever.

And that was when Donnie realized Seth would be the man she'd marry.

Seth was the man she loved.

Sören stayed up all night looking for those blasted papers, spending all night up in the attic, searching through boxes.

She carefully ignored and avoided the box that read 'MY STUFF AND NO ONE ELSE'S SO DON'T EVEN LOOK, OR THINK ABOUT OPENING THIS BOX', having had recognized her son's messy handwriting. Her son had personally insured that this box was to make it safely up the attic stairs and 'marked his territory' by putting his thumbprint on the seal of the box.

But she couldn't ignore how her hands trembled and how her eyes stung with tears as she turned her back on the box, refusing to look through it.

She shivered, looking up at the simple lightbulb that hung from the attic's ceiling in confusion. "Aren't attics supposed to be warm?" She scowled but got back to searching.

"Aha! Got'cha!" Sören smirked, her eyes swollen with tiredness as she held up the pale beige folder triumphantly. She looked through the box she had found it in and was relieved to find the tape record of the interview.

She gulped and idly undusted the box next to her, glancing towards Jarrod's box of belongings, wondering what was inside.

Biting her lip to keep herself from crying, she looked up at the ceiling, letting out a sigh that got her hair away from her forehead. "You're gone now, kid. Nothing you can do to stop me."

She got up with a sigh, carefully setting the tape and folder near the attic stairs and walked over to her son's box of belongings, realizing how important the belongings inside must have been to her son upon seeing how much tape he had put all over to keep it closed.

But she made it to the last strip of duct tape and coughed. There was a lot of dust.

Waving the dust away, she pulled out the first object. It was a cookie box, those Dutch cookie boxes she'd see in the Foreign Goods section at the grocery store. Frowning, she opened the box, laughing when she found her son's old soldier action figures.

She remembered when Fernando had brought home those ridiculous British soldier action figures for Jarrod's fourth birthday. Sören laughed aloud, her eyes filled with tears as she remembered how happily her son laughed that day, clapping his hands impatiently when Fernando struggled with the present wrap.

Sighing, she set the box of Dutch cookies filled with soldier action figures from Britain aside, putting her hand, almost reluctantly, back into the box to see what other surprises awaited.

She ended up pulling out a blue ribbon, from Jarrod's spelling bee contest in third grade in New York. He had won by correctly spelling the last word 'onomatopoeia'.

Sören nodded her head proudly at the ribbon, her eyes gleaming with tears as she remembered how proud her entire family had been, Fernando insisting on taking him out for ice cream to celebrate.

The sad mother shook her head fondly, sighing as she reached back into the box.

"What on earth…?" She wondered aloud when she took out a book. Jarrod had been too impatient for books, especially chapter books, and this book seemed pretty big. Opening the book, she realized it was a sketchbook, letting out an inquisitive 'Hmm', knowing very well how artistically incompetent her son had been.

But she was surprised to see beautiful sketches. There was one of her, she looked younger in the sketch and, judging by her surroundings, it was probably of when they still lived back in Spain. She glanced at the bottom right-hand corner of the page, raising her eyebrows when she saw Donnie's signature and the date.

It had been in 2005, so Donnie must have been ten years old then. She had never known how artistically talented her daughter was.

Sören rolled her eyes. Of course Jarrod would keep his sister's talent a secret. He had always adored her, especially after their father left.

She continued flipping through the pages, delighted to see flawless sketches of Fernando and the kitten Donnie had kept as a pet back in Spain.

Her smile faltered when she came across a page that nothing but words written on it with a blue-inked pen.

Sören's face paled, feeling her cheeks heat up and the tears finally streamed down her cheeks. She took in a sharp breath and left everything as she rushed down the attic stairs and into Donnie's room.

Usually, Sören was very respectful of her children's possessions, giving them proper privacy and never snooping through their things when they weren't around. But she didn't care as she pushed aside all of Donnie's school papers from her desk, frantically searching for her daughter's diary.

She knew Donnie kept one. Donnie had kept a diary since she was eleven years old, she practically insisted having a new journal for each New Year.

Sören checked her daughter's desk drawers, her closet shelf and underneath her bed. She let out a small grunt as she pulled out the heavy trunk chest that her daughter had received as a gift from Fernando's sister Fatimah when she turned six.

Agitated, Sören twisted the simple lock and opened it, surprised when dust came out. She found Donnie's old drawings from kindergarten and first grade. They were horrific.

Sören remembered this stage. She and Fernando had received many calls from the school throughout those years, complaints and reports that Donnie was drawing disturbing pictures.

The principle of the school had even set an interview appointment for Fernando and Sören with a social worker who asked them questions about their parenting and soon asked if they could interview Donnie in which they proceeded to recommend that Donnie see a doctor.

She remembered when Fernando had asked her why she drew such things. Had she seen these things happen? Did she conjure them from her imagination?

Sören remembered how appalled she and Fernando had felt when she simply responded, "These are things that happen all the time. You just don't know… that's why it disturbs you."

She was surprised her daughter had even kept these drawings but licked her lips in anticipation as she recognized the stack of journals that were Donnie's diaries.

The one with the dark leather case and papers bulging out was the newest one. Sören could tell because the leather wasn't ripped or old-looking.

She picked it and rummaged through it, stopping on the pages were there was a terrible scrawling all over the page with red-ink.

The last page that had her daughter's neat handwriting was dated to be a month before they moved to LaPush. The rest of the pages that had the terrible handwriting were undated.

Sören groaned in disgust and disbelief and she read, practically forcing herself to read on.

They were disturbing words.