AN: Putain is 'whore' or 'bitch' in French & Tabarnac is a French Canadian swear word that can mean 'shit,' 'damn,' or 'fuck.' Literally translated it means 'tabernacle.'

Feel free to choose whatever translation you deem appropriate for Cadie's current circumstances.

Soundtrack for this chapter and the last - 'Shadow of the Day' by Linkin Park.

Enjoy!


Chapter 50 – World in Grey

Putain! The crazy bitch shot me! Bloody hell! Bloody friggin' hell!

It had all happened in slow motion. I saw her bring the gun around. I tried to move out of her line of sight, but it did no good. I heard the shot before I felt it. And felt it, I did. She had shot me in the left knee, and I was now face down on the ground, counting my blessings – in between cursing like a boy kicked in the gonads – grateful that I had already relieved my bladder.

The sounds of metal clanging and gear shifting overhead brought me out of my haze of pain. Looking around, I noticed that Vanessa had detached the chain from the floor and was now fiddling with a control box that had been hanging near the table by her chair. I wasn't sure exactly what it was for until I felt the chain lose slack and then a less than gentle tug at my wrists as I was dragged inexorably forward and up. It didn't stop until I was hanging with my toes just barely touching the ground.

Eyeing with disgust the trail of blood that was smeared behind me and then doing the same to me, she remarked irritably, "I wish you had just sat in the chair. It would have been so much easier on the both of us, if you had done as I asked." She then walked over from the table and forcefully stripped me of my jeans.

"Tabarnac!" I howled in agony.

"Tsk, tsk," she chided. "You need to watch your language, Cadence. If you don't, I'll have to gag you again, and that" she paused to finish tying off a tourniquet for my left leg and to pat my cheek and pouted, "would be a shame. I was so looking forward to hearing your screams."

The fear that I had been battling ever since I woke up now overcame the last shred of control that I had. I frantically began to try twist out of my chains by using my full body weight, in the hopes of sliding out of them. But it was to no avail. I then tried hopping up and then falling repeatedly with the hopes of breaking whatever beam the chains were wrapped around. All that did was earn me much bruised hands. I deeply regretted not taking the opportunity she gave me, when she was releasing me from the chair.

Vanessa began her eerie cackling again, asking mockingly, "What do you hope all of that will accomplish? Even if you do get loose, you can't run. If you were smart, you would save your energy. An adrenaline rush will only cause your system to crash and burn a lot sooner in the long run."

I stopped what I was doing, realizing that she was right, and ground out incredulously through the pain and exhaustion that had begun to set in, "You're …giving me … me tips?"

She shrugged as she stalked back towards me with the ominous syringe, which she quickly jabbed into my right thigh, whispering, "Well, like I said, I want you conscious for this next bit."

Casually walking back to the table, she remarked, "Oh, and to answer your previous question – the substance I just shot into your veins is a stimulant."

"Uh-huh," I gasped, for I was already beginning to feel its effects.

Effects, which she was kind enough to narrate for me with sickening delight as she cut my sweater off, "Your heart rate increasing will be the first symptom, followed by increased breathing; and judging by your panting and flushed face, it's working. The effect, which I am most interested in of this wonder drug, is your greatly improved sensory acuity. You will feel everything at least tenfold. How do you feel?"

"Cold," I bit out. An understatement if there ever was one, for even without the stimulant I would have been freezing. I was hanging there in only my underwear, bra, and undershirt, completely exposed to the frigid, what I supposed to be, night air. However, with the stimulant, it was like I had just been pulled out of glacial waters and left to air dry on a hockey rink, not to mention that my knee was throbbing louder than my already pounding heart.

She laughed maliciously at my discomfort, and then with obvious relish, she began to use me as her personal punching bag with her brass knuckle accessories. She jabbed at my right kidney, and then did a one-two dead center into my abdomen, followed by a kick to sweep my right leg out from under me so that all my weight was pulling on my shoulders.

I did not scream. I refused to give her the satisfaction. Instead, I bit my lip. I bit it so hard that I did the one thing that Evan had always predicted that I would do – I bit right through it.

"Huh, no scream," she commented temporarily disappointed until she peered closer, "But you can't fool me; you're not as tough as you would have me think you are. You're crying. That hurt; it did." She nodded with satisfaction, and then began again.

Sure enough, she was right. I was crying. The combination of the drug's affects, the pain from my knees, and the thought of Evan had worked to destroy my stoic composure. This realization made me want to cry even more. There was going to be no dignity in my death, none whatsoever.

Oh God, I cried and then willed for Alice to see my fate. She had seen me in a near death situation before, at the bridge. This situation surely was no different. Please.


To make sure that Jake's presence did not interfere with Alice's already tenuous visions and to give Nessie something to do, I sent them to get Carlisle and help him pack whatever he thought that he might need for Cadie. They were also to find and send Rosalie and Emmett after us to help in the search. Esme and Bella were to go to town and keep their eyes on Ian, Tink, and Zach in case they heard anything.

Ordering everyone around like this, like I was heading one of Bastien's teams again, was the only thing that was keeping me sane. Thoughts of what could possibly be happening to Cadie were not to be permitted. It was bad enough that I was trying to figure out who could be doing whatever it was to her. The Volturi, a sexual sadistic predator, another monster from my past were a few of the possibilities that ran through my mind.

Edward drove us there, while Jasper spent his time exuding soothing emotions. I put his calming aura to good use, for it allowed me to think clearly and decide on all that I needed to do. Our first stop was to go and collect fake federal badges, which Alice had sent Jasper to order a few weeks ago after she had a strong vision of him doing so. This was hopefully going to be enough to get us clearance to view the security footage of the airport and the helpful cooperation of any airport employees who might have seen or been in contact with Cadie.

Edward got us there in record timing, just a little before six, and Jasper concluded his dealings with a seedy little man with minimal haggling, allowing us to arrive at the airport roughly an hour later. It probably helped that the three of us are very intimidating personages on a good day and I was bearing the full force of my charisma down upon him. We did the same thing with the airline ticket agents and security personnel, but certainly with more dazzle than intimidation.

The ticketing agent, Sally, told Edward that Cadie had indeed not boarded her plane and nor had she even checked-in. In her eagerness to be helpful to the overly charming Agent Cullen, (which on any other day would have been highly amusing, especially when picturing Bella's reaction), she asked her co-workers if they had seen Cadie come to their stations or even get in line. However, it seemed that Cadie had done neither.

It was a little harder to get access to the security footage, but with the combined efforts of me and Jasper, we prevailed. We were half an hour into it, when Rosalie and Emmett joined us under the guise of being probie agents who hadn't yet received their official badges. Their help sped up the tedious process with only a few false identifications made by Rosalie, who complained, "I'm sorry, but they all look alike. The video quality isn't that good."

Twenty-nine minutes after their arrival, I saw her, "There! Right there! Gabby and Mark just dropped her off at door number three!"

"At what time?" Edward patiently asked.

"She's walking in the door at exactly 4:15," I reported. "Do you have that camera?"

He nodded as he fast-forwarded to that point in time. Everyone crowded around his monitor after they too adjusted their footage to match the time stamp. Emmett exclaimed excitedly, "Yes, there she is, and if she doesn't move..." Sure enough, the woman with the cart of stacked high with luggage bumped into Cadie. He chuckled then, "Yep, there they all go. Why do women need so many bags?" Rosalie then elbowed him. "Oomph!"

"Where is she going now?" I asked anxiously as she went in the general direction that the woman had pointed.

"I have that camera," Jasper answered. "It looks like the restroom, but …curious…she's not getting into line."

Rosalie piped up then, "Uh…Evan, you're going to want to see this…"

I hastily moved over to her as she adjusted her monitor. She was right. I saw Cadie trip over a wheelchair and then collapse as she was righting it. As I was anxiously watching her being placed into the same wheelchair and swiftly carted out, a small part of me marveled at the fact that those who had seen her enter the bathroom under her own power and subsequently faint were so hastily reassured as to her welfare that they did not question the woman who made off with her.

"Isn't that the same woman who sent her in there in the first place? The one with the beanie?" Emmett asked from over my right shoulder.

"Yes," Edward confirmed from Jasper's station as they watched her being wheeled out of the bathroom. "They seem to be heading out door number four…"

"I have that one as well," I declared as I uploaded the camera in question. A few moments later, I saw that Cadie was being helped into the cab by a nervous looking driver. The oddly dressed woman had to shove a wad of cash at him to get him to stop asking questions and get back into his car after he stuffed Cadie's bag into the trunk.

Adjusting the zoom, I zeroed in on the license plate and cab numbers and then ordered, "Call the cab company, someone, and find out if this guy is still on shift. And also find out what happened to all of those bags the woman left behind. Something in them, may give us an idea as to who that woman is."

"Rosie and I will take the luggage. I don't think the security guys will mind answering a few questions from her," Emmett declared.

Alice called then, "When you talk to the cabbie, follow Edward's lead. He doesn't like cops so he'll resist yours and Jasper's influence."

"Okay, thanks, Alice," I gratefully acknowledged.

"No problem."

We were lucky and caught the guy just as he was coming off his shift and was returning his car. We followed Alice's advice, and Edward learned that the man was an illegal and that he feared being deported. So using that, we coaxed and cajoled the information out of him.

It was 8:25, when he finally rattled off the address. Cadie had been in danger for four hours now.

Looking at the address, Edward said, "That will only take us twenty minutes. Do you still want me to drive?"

I shrugged, not caring. I had originally let Edward drive, so that he would have something to do besides rattle around the inside of my head, but now it didn't matter. I doubt that driving would be enough of a distraction in my current state of mind.

Jasper turned around to look at me anxiously just as we pulled out on to the freeway; apparently, my mood had descended to new depths, and he was struggling to counteract them. I remembered then that he had once told me that part of the reason he automatically soothed the emotions of others, even though it went against their will, was because they pained him as well, especially when he didn't understand the reason for them.

"I now understand Edward's seeking out the Volturi …Without Cadie, the world is colorless. The sun will never set for me, nor will it rise. I will never again experience starry nights or view the northern lights. The world will just be darkness and shadows…emptiness," I explained. "If she's…then I – "

"Won't happen," Jasper cut me off. "We'll get there in time."

I nodded briefly trying to reign in my emotions. Succumbing to them now would do Cadie no good.

"Moreover," he continued jocularly, "I promise not to go berserk if there's blood."

I scowled at him, "Although I appreciate the fact that you have overcome and mastered your difficulty – "

"Now's not the time to be joking about it?" he finished for me. "You're right," he shrugged, explaining, "I just wanted you to know that you could count on me, brother. I asked Alice before we left, just in case, and she didn't foresee me losing control."

I reached forward from the backseat and squeezed his shoulder, letting him know that I appreciated his reassurance. I also avoided meeting Edward's eyes as he looked in the rearview mirror, knowing that he knew, more intimately than Jasper did, how much their effort to help find Cadie affected me.

It was comforting to know that while I would descend into a world of grey if we didn't find Cadie in time, my family would never let it become a black hole.


I was pulled from my silent internal struggle by Vanessa's maniacal mutterings, "Now, what should I do next? Should I gouge out her eyes?" She asked this as she held my face in her hands, roughly twisting it this way and that. "… No, no, we'll save these for last. Her eyes are definitely the window to her soul …What to do, what to do…" she chanted, before digging her overly long thumbnail into my cheek. She gave me a cut that would develop into a scar like hers, if I lived that long. "Perfect!"

Instead of crying out like a large part of me was increasingly begging to do, I turned my head and bit her hand with what strength I had.

She jerked her hand back and shook it, glowering. "That was not nice, Cadie. You're going to regret that." Snatching a pair of pliers from the table, she walked up to me once more, "I'll pull out everyone of your teeth and make a necklace from the fragments – "

"Good!" I challenged, "Trophies like that are what get people like you caught!"

My spirited assertion stopped her in her tracks for a moment, making her coldly comment, "You have too much spunk in you still, I see. Well, fine, you can keep your teeth."

She reached over then for the control box and proceeded to lower me to my knees, so that she could reach her goal – my fingers.

She broke every single one of them…one joint and segment at a time. And then bashed them into a meaty pulp with a sledgehammer.

I now hoped that I would not survive this, for I would never be able to use them again.

I had always had my art. It was my one constant. When things changed or people left or things got out of control, I could lose myself in some medium or another; be it clay, paint, charcoal, oil, markers, crayon. The ability to create or at least replicate beauty was so much a part of my identity that she might as well have killed me then. What did I have left?

"You still haven't screamed yet," my tormentor noted indignantly, as she lifted my head to examine my face. "Well, no matter," she shrugged as she let go of my face to head back to the control box. "You now have the look that I had when my children were taken from me - You're dead inside."

Then raising me up to my former height, she took a swig of something with alcohol by the smell of it, and cheerily reported, "Well, don't you worry, dear. I shall be merciful and not let your rotting soul eat you alive as mine did me."

I lifted my head swiftly at this, to see if she had a gun pointed at my head like I hoped she did.

It was not to be. Instead, she held a meter long whip that had metal shards weaved through it and long metal barbs knotted at its ends.

"I do hope though that you remain in this world until the infamous thirty-nine."

With that she stepped back and began her pièce de résistance.

It was pure agony. It was unbearable to my already sensitized flesh. The barbs tore through my shirt and pierced several layers of my skin and latched onto the muscles beneath. The first lash not only shredded my shirt and snapped my bra open, but also removed those several layers of skin that it had pierced.

After the third lash, she paused to soak in the sounds of my groans and gasps, which were considerably louder than the ones that I had emitted when she shot my knee. It was then that I asked, "Have you been pr…pr…practicing?"

"Why, yes," she drawled, "So glad you noticed."

She began again. By the eighth lash, I reached the volume levels of when she broke my fingers, roaring out my curses like a lion that has been gored by a boar, if you know animals could do that. At the fourteenth one, I finally gave her what she wanted – I screamed.

I couldn't pass out because of the stimulant. I was weak from the blood loss, but the adrenaline induced by fear and the stimulant caused me to be as mentally wired and energized as an addict on a crystal meth trip - minus the bliss of euphoria.

My back had no skin to speak of, and I'm sure she could see my rib bones, shoulder blades, and spinal column in places. And still she continued.

Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen.

I lost my footing and slipped in the blood that had pooled underneath me, dislocating my right shoulder, causing me to whimper and moan.

Eighteen.

Some organ on my left side was punctured. My screaming and keening gained in their intensity, frequency, and duration after that.

Nineteen. Twenty.

Oh, how I wished that I could see Evan just one more time. Even if he couldn't save me, it would be wonderful to see, hear, and feel him. To see his Byronic scowl as he frowned at me for even getting into this situation in the first place. To hear his lilting Irish accent as he alternatively soothed and scolded me. To feel his abnormally cold fingers run through my hair ever so tenderly.

To die in his arms as he embraced me, one last time.

Twenty-one. Twenty-two. Twenty-three…