The girl was cut off by the metal chink of her cuffs, as they fell to the ground. The sound seemed endless, bouncing off of the walls then the ceiling and then back, over and over.
Two doors, one marked with a woman, the other, with man. The girl's lips curled slightly, it had been a long time since she had last seen the figures that symbolized a bathroom.
The door was cold as she pushed it open.

Hallelujah.

Does anyone know the way to Neverland?

Does anyone know the path?

'Cause the world seems to be so bland,

When I can't escape the vampyre wrath.

Another hallway seemed to be the crescendo of the moment. The walls were white as snow and surrounded a manila floor. She leaned against a wall, thankful no one that cared she was there. The girl's trembling fingers traveled to her back pocket, where the offending weapon lay. She heard voices. They sounded like bells.
After the rough sandpaper of gruff male speech, these voices felt like silk against calloused fingers.
Her knees buckled under her.
Sleep.
The gun slipped from her fingers, making a resounding clatter as it hit the ground that traveled through her whole body. That beating heart of hers took off running. She scrambled for the gun, knowing that there was no way that she would have a clear shot. A man stepped through a door at the edge of the hallway.

This is the end.
Her eyesight was failing her, the black dots dancing around her vision like little trolls that were mocking her. But she saw enough.
The man had golden bronze hair. He wore a suit that reminded her of the surgeon's scrubs, but a feeling in the girl's gut told her that he was something much worse. The edges of his red eyes crinkled ever so slightly, just enough to say that this was his game.
His eyes were red.
"Well I'm damned, aren't I," the girl said. The words slipped past the filter of her mind like water through fingers.
"Isabella, I can assure you that you are in no way damned."
Isabella immediately detested his voice. Only moments ago she had reveled in the beauty of the same voice. Now, it crashed around her like the sounds of construction work in the city on a hot summer day. It sounded fake.
She wondered briefly why he wasn't running towards her, but the gun pointed at his head was reason enough. A tailored suit peaked out from under the ugly white coat.

So much red.

His eyes.

His tie.

His shoes.

All glistened with the sick splendor of newly shed blooded. The walls dripped with remnants of millions sacrificed, the millions consumed and the millions imprisoned. Isabella looked at her feet and saw the floor was flooding with the red liquid. The screams of pain in her ears engulfed her body in body racking tremors.

So many people.

"Isabella, I beg of you to remain calm. You are hallucinating."

Calm? When you have a whole race on their knees, how can you ask me to be calm?

The shaking finally stopped and the girl pointed the gun not at the face, but at the tie. The intricate knot seemed to mock her, for reasons only known to God.

She aimed.

She fired.

"Hey, sissy, wake up. Please, or else you will end up as dinner for the Sultan."

Isabella shot up from the bed, immediately hitting her head against someone soft. Cold sweat drenched her clothes as she looked around, seeing nothing.

"Whoa, easy there. I know it's dark but your eyes will get used to it."

Panic struck her chest like lightning; her body deciding that now would be as perfect time to flee as any. Large hands held her down to a bed, which she realized felt rather uncomfortable. Jake was sitting a small chair next to her.

"Jake, let me go. We can't die at the mercy of these monsters. We have to fight. Let go!"

The struggle only went on for a few moments. She finally realized that she wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

"We already lost, tiger." said Jake, gently.

Anger bubbled up, hot, gaseous anger that permeated the quiet room with a sense of dread. This must be the feeling an animal has when it finally realizes that a zoo would be its final resting place.

"That's it?" she whispered.

The dark air in front of her now was a suffocating darkness, closing in from all sides. It pinched her in her stomach, reminding her that there was nothing left to be done.

"You have been in a coma for about a week," Jake continued, ignoring her previous remark. "So you need some food and water. The doctors need to examine you, as they would have if you hadn't blown the chest hairs off of some huge hot-shot doctor who was about to make his big breakthrough."

Isabella could hear the wry smile of satisfaction in his voice. The black was finally becoming a gray film with some objects in her peripheral vision. Namely, Jacob's face.

"I was aiming for his tie,." Isabella said gloomily, laying her head back down on a cardboard pillow. Jake erupted into fits of laughter, his usually gruff voice turning into something child-like.

"Oh, sissy, you hit his tie alright, you wedged the bullet right into his sternum. Paul was telling me what a legendary shot you were. Though I believed him, I never got to see you in action."

Isabella slowly sat up.

"Don't lie to me, Black, you know you never believed a word Paul said."

A door was opened, bathing the room with a soft glow. Jake was already in a bed next to her, pretending that he was snoring. The first view of the room did not impress Isabella, but then, it wouldn't have impressed anyone. There weren't any lights fixtures. The walls were made of dark gray material, giving the room a gloomy look. An axe murderer would have loved it. The floors were white linoleum, such a stark contrast to the gray that it hurt. The beds looked like beds from an orphanage. Immediately, Isabella felt bad for the large man snoring next to her whose frame barely fit into his "crib".

"Isabella?" a voice tinkled in her ear. It made her want to scratch her ears as though she was being tickled. A woman stood in the doorway, holding a glass of water. She was wearing the generic surgeon suit Bella had seen on the last vampire she had met. She also had red eyes.

"What?" Isabella asked, her voice gruff from lack of sympathy.

"Please come with me." The woman sounded irritated.

Good.

"What if I want to die from dehydration?"

"Then you shall."

"Good."

Isabella settled back on the bed, spreading out her body so that her toes would touch the edge of the bedframe. The woman stayed at the edge of the doorway. Isabella flicked her away as though she was the royalty there.

"Shoo, shoo, go along then, child." Isabella cooed, the words ending in a tremendous coughing fit. She really did feel like crap. But she wouldn't let a filthy vampyre fix that.

The shadow of the woman was suddenly over her. Isabella didn't even have the energy to scream.

She was being picked up and thrown over a shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Only then did a soft mewl of pain escape the hardened rebel. Her stomach was protesting against the sudden movement, and she would have vomited except there was nothing in her stomach.

"Bella, there are rules to be followed. You are inferior to us. You will never disobey, and you will never tell one of us what to do."

Bella's head suddenly hurt with sensation that someone was repeatedly hitting her with a tennis racket, if those even existed anymore.

"You... Have... No... Right.. To..." Bella gasped for air "To… To… Call me that."

"But I have every right, dear. You are inferior, and for all I know, you could be my next meal."

Bella was finally set down on solid ground and left alone. If it weren't for that damn asthma, she would be yelling things only Satan could bear to hear. Her vision spun, the door that stood in front of her going in frantic circles. The room began to swim and she grabbed for something to hold onto.

It had been nine years since her last asthma attack. Revenge was a dish best served cold, and asthma knew how to dole out accordingly.

"Get an inhaler, quickly." a voice rang out so startlingly close that Bella's oxygen-deprived body seem vibrate with sound. It was a female voice, one of annoyance.

Fear bubbled up in the middle of Bella's stomach. She knew that this was a natural reaction, but when survival kicks in, there was nothing anyone could do.

After all I have been through, I could die like this?

Someone forced a plastic pipe through her lips, puffing steroids into her lungs. The sound of her next breath filled the room, to everyone's relief. Her next breaths traveled across the room, the crisis finally coming to an end.

"Fuck..." Bella put her head between her knees. She was going to have to get rid of her tendency to swear, she thought. Living with testosterone-filled men made it easy to fall into using profanity

"Isabella Marie Swan. Age: Unknown. Personality: Unknown. Blood Type: Siren or A."

Suddenly, Bella was lifted, prodded, touched and examined. She yelped as one of the vampyres actually bit her on the wrist. After counting six of them, she started calculating strategies for bringing them all down. One who was furiously writing things down on a clipboard She refused to see any features. They didn't distinguish between

They use clipboards? How primitive.

Then, there was one preparing syringes, a potential weapon for escape. Another was lifting her up from the ground, making way for two others who were poking and prodding her body.

The clipboard one she could knockout with her feet. while everyone was stunned, those same feet would knock the one holding her out. When the two were grabbing for her, she would grab a syringe, but she was sure there would be enough time for that one to do something.

No. Too many of them. Not enough humans.

Her head sagged. She was too fatigued. Her body would never be able to withstand such rigorous exertion. The words of the clipboard one floated around her head in a halo-like structure but they never entered into her brain.

"She is a candidate for the Sultan's Ball. She has the rare type."

Finally those words registered in her mind.

Sultan's Ball? Who is this Sultan?

Bella was put down roughly on a table. The cool metal made her yelp as her backside made contact with it. Her clothes were stripped off, and she realized that she was still wearing the same ones from the rebel camp. Embarrassment burned through her, turning her pale skin into a shade soft pink.

The doctors noted this with the scratching pen on the clipboard.

She didn't bother to fight. Just closed her eyes and hummed a tune, the one that everyone had always sung at home. The lyrics cursed the vampyres to hell and promised triumph to the weary human armies. Much good that did.

"Mr. Slayt, step out of the room and control yourself. You were trained for this moment, so do not forget your training, or the king shall have your head for ridding him of a side dish."

Side dish?

Bella peeked an eye open to see the syringe one walk out the, slamming the door. She no longer paid any attention to what they were doing with her, only waiting for a blessed end.

Then it came, and a pair of cold hands sat her up.

"Isabella Swan, listen."

Slowly, the eyes of the girl wandered to the woman with the clipboard.

"You have a quick mind.

"What does that bloody supposed to mean?"

She heard the slap before she felt it. It made a dull ringing sound that reverberated through her head.

"You do not talk back to any of your superiors, human or not."

"You're a monster. You don't count."

Slap.

Her cheek was starting to swell, but the pain was welcome. At least her body managed to give her pain signals.

"You will learn."

The clipboard woman's voice was soft and devoid of emotions.

"Fuck yeah, I will. Give me a manual, and I shall study for the exams in two weeks."

Bella knew she was already past the point of pushing limits.

Slap.

Slap.

The slaps were gentler now, but the intensity was enough to bruise.

"You will be put through a series of tests to determine where you will be put in the Sanguis. While undergoing these tests that, you shall be put in the section of Lunatiks, since you are deemed dangerous to the Regular. This was determined by the behavior you demonstrated when you first arrived."

"Determined is your favorite word," chuckled the now purple Bella.

This was graciously ignored.

"You are dismissed."

Thanks for reading.

Cvaboda

Twilight is not mine.