Chapter Info

Title: Hell

Number: 27/34

Warnings: Angst, slight dubious consent content, language, blood, guns, sickness, slight suicidal thoughts, slight voyeurism content

Author's Note: Sorry I didn't post this last night! I got some bad news and wasn't in the mood to compute, just to be lazy and watch TV. But here's the next chapter. :) I'm not sure it's where you were thinking it was going, so I'm hoping this chapter is something you all enjoy. :) Thanks for reading! I would love to hear your reviews, thoughts, comments, and questions about this story!

Guest: Glad you like it! Thanks for reading and commenting!

AHealingRenaissance: Ah okay, that makes sense. :D Emmett is definitely the opposite and I'm glad he kicked their butts into gear. And I'm glad you like Abigail's response! Like internally she wants to just sob to him and beg him, but she knows it won't get her anywhere so instead she threatens. Jones definitely deserves your sledgehammer. xD Thanks for reading and commenting!

animexchick, YourAlphaWolf, EclipseRosen, Beachgirl25, and smuttyspeedster:I think everybody wants to see Brett get his. xD And that Carlisle is to blame... But I'm glad you like it, and thanks for reading and commenting!

silverhawk88: Definitely. :) Angst and drama are my best story features. Thanks for reading and commenting!

HarlequinnDaze: I hope this doesn't disappoint! :D Thank you so much for the compliment, it humbles me, and I appreciate it so much! Thanks so much for commenting and reading!

-Abigail-

Seven days.

Six nights.

In Hell.

Abigail was counting.

Luckily she wasn't conscious for the whole week, she was in and out of it, partly from the pain in her stomach from the wound, and partly from the flu she got when she had been out in the rain. The wound in her stomach had been sown up thanks to the good doctor/kidnapper, but it was obviously infected as it hurt something fierce and he hadn't bothered to give her any pain killers. Her arms and legs were numb from being where she was on the floor with her arms locked above her. He only let one arm down once a day so she could eat. It was the worse then, though, because she could barely stomach anything even though she was starving—thankfully he also brought water otherwise she would've already been dead—because she had to see him. She got violently ill every time he was close to her. He was clearly a voyeur and preferred to watch from his...wherever he was. But she knew that the vomiting wasn't from the fever or the stomach wound.

It was a reaction to being away from Carlisle, from being near this man that wasn't her mate, which made all this much worse.

She fought with herself, going back and forth between wanting to take him while she still had him, or let him go since he was perfectly fine with watching her age and die. It was better than thinking about Dr. Jones doing whatever it was he was up to. It allowed her to step back from her situation, to think over what had happened between the two of them, what had changed since 1776 when he was desperate to have her at his side forever, to now when he refused to. One would think that the thoughts would be all muddled in her mind, but they were clearer than anything else around her. She wanted to get back to Carlisle, and yet she wanted Dr. Jones to just kill her.

She never spoke that whole week, even when the tape was off—that was only during meal times—and so it made it much easier to think. She was still so torn, but she was able to focus on his image, his beautiful face and soft touches, and allow herself to pretend that she had been his continuously since 1776. That 1955 never happened and she never died. That they were happy forever and her ring wasn't in the hands of some pervert who was keeping her captive.

But then Jones told her to turn a certain way "so I can see that gorgeous body," and she was thrown back into the present as she forced herself to move. She only did it with thoughts of the humans like her that she couldn't risk by not doing as Jones said.

.x.x.x.x.

-Edward-

Edward stopped into the hospital to turn in Carlisle's leave of absence. But they all knew, no matter the outcome of this, he probably wouldn't be going back. If she died, he would either try to die, too, or go back to the window as a statue. If she lived and decided to stay with him, he would never leave her side again. If she lived but left him, he would probably go back to his response for option one. Edward sincerely hoped for the second possibility, but he knew the other two were more likely. The odds were severely stacked against him. Alice spent all day and night trying to find her, and Emmett spent his time with Carlisle and Edward himself trying to find a trace of her, but they had no luck.

Edward breezed by the waiting room to Mackenzie at the front desk. She had met him before and greeted him by name, but his face became stoic as he handed over the papers.

"My father is very close with Nurse Goodwin, you see. He's having a rough time."

She frowned sadly, but nodded in confirmation. "I'll file this right away, Edward," she said.

"Thank you, Mackenzie."

Since the culprit was obviously human—no vampire would shoot her and take her away in a car, and they certainly wouldn't leave blood behind—they decided to tell Charlie. Of course he was furious and started staging search parties and going door to door immediately. Edward only hoped his father-in-law didn't get hurt in the process, but Charlie was tough and had been a cop for a long time; he'd make it.

Can't wait to watch that body when I get home. So fucking good... Really taught her to be a cock tease, didn't I?

Edward's body slammed with shock and revulsion as he heard the thought when he walked out the door. Images flashed through his mind and he felt sick, watching the disgusting perversion he took in breaking in and setting up cameras around Abigail's house. They were still there, watching Beth and her boyfriend. And there were new images of Abigail slumped and tied up in a dirty room covered in dried blood.

His head whipped over and he barely contained his raged hiss as he leveled his gaze on the culprit.

Dr. Brett Jones.

Without thought, he jumped in his car and quickly pulled out with him, following him at every turn, making sure to keep time so he didn't lose him. When stopped at a drug story and picked up condoms, Edward had to resist from killing him. But he couldn't. Not until Jones led him to his mother.

Like a rookie, Jones didn't check if he was being followed. He was practically bouncing as he took his bags and went inside a shitty little house deep in the woods outside Forks. No wonder we haven't found her yet, he thought as he got out and sniffed around, hissing as he caught her scent immediately. Dots of blood still stained Jones's back seat and his front steps. Quickly Edward pulled out his phone as he slipped inside an open window on the east side of the house, blurrying through until he found where Jones went and hiding himself around the corner to keep an eye on him, just in case he decided to make use of those condoms. He actually trembled as he fought not to go by instinct and slaughter him.

"Find something?" Emmett asked roughly, eagerly.

"Yeah. I found Mom." Emmett grew silent and then passed on the information to Carlisle who he heard growling in the background. Edward gave him directions, no time to tell them how it was he came across her, and hung up. He peaked around the corner to watch him toss the box of condoms onto a desk where he booted up an ancient computer, never once loosing the sick smirk. Edward waited for Carlisle and Emmett to show up, but kept an eye on the man he decided he would have no problem breaking his code of living to kill.

.x.x.x.x.

-Abigail-

The more she stayed there like that, the harder it was to breathe and she was nodding in and out of consciousness more often. She wasn't sure if it was the fever or the infection or just a combination of them both, probably the latter. And the sickest part was that Jones didn't seem to mind her state of unconsciousness; in fact, it seemed to turn him on more. The darkness was a much welcome relief when it came and she knew it was warm and comforting and she wanted to stay there.

No more pain. No more heartbreak. Just take me. Please, I don't want to live—

The loud, furious, heartbreaking roar startled her awake, though she wouldn't really call it awake in the full definition. Her eyelids barely fluttered, but she groaned softly and then whimpered. Something was familiar about that roar, but not at the same time. She felt she should know it, but blackness faded in again until she heard the basement door being thrown open and footsteps pound down it loudly, jarring her already aching head to split open in agony.

Not hungry... She thought, assuming it was Jones coming to give her food as he hadn't yet that day, and she turned her head away with a grunt, expecting Jones's sick laughter, but instead she heard harsh breathing, felt cool trembling hands, and a feeling like no other washed over her. It was familiar and yet so foreign, like she had it before and lost it so long ago. But suddenly her stomach no longer churned, though it still ached from the wound and infection, which last she knew still had the stitches in.

Oh, was someone talking to her? It felt like she was laying against a chest that was vibrating with sound. I don't want to hear your words anymore, Jones, she thought. No, not Jones, this voice was soft and desperate and agonized and oh so warm, like a blanket that cocooned around her and allowed her to drift safely away from the curtain of pain and agony and desperation that had crawled into every fiber of her being for the past week and clung, refusing to let go. But now? This person? They made it all drift away as if it never existed, and she never wanted to let that feeling go again.

But she jerked back to life, the darkness fading as she felt her arms being moved, her muscles protesting loudly and her stomach screaming, crying out loudly in pain. When was the tape removed? Her voice echoed around the chamber and she felt a sob next to her ear, and suddenly her fingers longed for the feel of his honey blond hair.

Golden hair? Oh... Oh! Carlisle. This is Carlisle, Carlisle is here. He saved me, he didn't let me die. Why didn't he let me die? I specifically asked to die. He doesn't want me. Just let me die.

She tried to mumble that, but it came out as nothing but a soft sound that was absolutely not an actual word.

"Baby? Oh god, Abigail, it's me. Can you open those eyes for me? Please open your eyes, Abigail. Please, my love. I don't want to lose you, I can't lose you."

Can't lose me? He doesn't want me...

She mumbled again only to hear another roar from farther away, muffled as if behind a door or something, and then a loud bang as someone fell down the basement steps. Suddenly her eyes shot open wide and she gasped, looking around in confused alarm, her body on high alert as she felt suddenly sick again, and she knew exactly why as the feeling was that familiar. It was the feeling that had its death grip in her for the whole week. She was panting, her eyes nearly blind as she looked around, trying to figure out what was going on. Too sick from infection and too deprived of food and water, she couldn't get her bearings, not right away, she didn't even see Carlisle beside her. Her eyes nearly rolled around in her head until slowly she focused on a pathetic, crumpled heap at the bottom of the stairs.

Jones was bleeding from the head, body trembling in rage, and he was holding a gun. Abigail blinked, her mind not wrapping around the situation. Was Jones talking? He was. What was he saying? Abigail didn't know. She couldn't focus that well yet.

But he had something in his hand, something metal, and was pointing it at her. No, not her, but right beside her. At Carlisle.

Carlisle.

Carlisle!

Her Carlisle.

No no no no no.

He can't hurt Carlisle.

Somewhere inside told her the metal thing can't hurt him, but she didn't care. The metal was dangerous, the metal could kill, it was why her stomach hurt so bad.

Carlisle can't die.

She couldn't breathe. It hurt too much, she was too panicked that Carlisle would be injured.

"No," she mumbled. Jones was still yelling, her head ringing and pounding, and soon footsteps slammed down the steps.

Jones took his chance before he lost it.

The metal made a loud bang and she screamed.

"No!"

She leapt in front of Carlisle.

Protect Carlisle. Carlisle is good. Carlisle is love. Keep Carlisle safe. Carlisle must survive.

The pain was worse than the shot to her stomach—was I shot?—because now she couldn't breathe. She was drowning, she could feel it, as she flew back and tumbled into the man behind her. She tried to gasp, but only gurgled and helplessly felt her lungs—lung? Feels like only one is working—fill with warm, coppery metallic liquid. She recognized it as blood, but it didn't seem to process in her mind right. Why would blood be in her lungs? Why were her ears ringing? Why was everything so blurry and far away?

Oh yeah, I got shot. Again.

It had been barely a second since the gun went off, and half a second later the loudest, most agonized roar hit her ears and she whimpered. Or tried to, but she just gurgled some more, lungs aching as she desperately tried to suck in oxygen and stay awake at the same time. Why was she staying awake? Oh yeah, Carlisle was there, she had to stay awake to say goodbye.

Carlisle. That was Carlisle! Where is he? I need him. Is he safe? Oh, Carlisle, I'm so sorry. I'll miss you. Goodbye, my love.

"He's right here. Mom, can you hear me? Carlisle, she's thinking of you."

Carlisle! Oh he's alive. Edward?

"Yeah, Mom, it's me." There was a loud bang and Jones's screams went silent. Her stomach no longer ached, but her chest screamed as she tried to suck in air through the blood, her skin feeling like it was burning as the bullet hole also dribbled crimson from her weakening body.

"Why'd you do that, silly girl?" The voice was so full of pain it was barely anything more than a whimpered growl. "It wouldn't have hurt me."

"She's in too much pain. She can't think straight. She thought she was protecting you."

I can't breathe!

Edward sighed raggedly. "I know, Mom, it'll be over soon."

Over? Oh, over. Well, she begged for death and she's getting it. Carlisle is safe and he won't have her holding him back now. He can move on. He'll be happy.

"God," Edward gasped. "She's thinking you can be happier now."

"No," he sobbed. Why is the angel sobbing? I remember that, he was my angel. He is my angel. Angels shouldn't be crying. He's free now. Don't let him cry.

"You have to think quick. She's falling, Carlisle. Let her die human, or change her and let her live as a vampire."

Vampire? Yes, I want to be a vampire. But he doesn't want me to be. Just let me die. I don't want him to regret anything.

Darkness began to edge her vision—as much as she fought it—which had gone a hazy crimson as she was slowly numbing, the gurgling just little spurts as her lungs started to give and accept the fact she was dying. Only her heart, lungs, and brain were working as her body worked to keep her alive, all non-essential organs shutting down in the effort. But her lungs weren't going to last, filling up with blood, not having enough room for what she needed.

There was more yelling, more sobbing—Don't cry, my angel—more attempts to breathe...

Then a sharp pain in her neck, and her whole world was burning.