Chapter Eight:

I felt warm….

Too warm.

My eyes flew open and the natural instinct to attack became dominant. I ignored the agony in my muscles as I flipped out of bed, crouching into the corner of the white wash wall, my vision still blurry and a strange high pitched ringing in my ear.

My heart was beating a mile a minute as the colorful hues hurried around me. My feet were planted on the cool tile, the cold seeping though the pores of my feet. I sensed the vibrations people made within the fragile tile.

Out of instinct, my fist shot out and connected with someone's jaw. Angry vibrations bounced off the walls, informing me that the figure had cried out in pain.

My hand tingled with numbness as I kept my fist by my side. I blinked rapidly, trying my utmost best to see anything other than colorful smudges. My hearing didn't improve anymore either. If anything, the ringing became louder and impossibly high pitched.

I clapped my hands over my ears, the high pitch becoming slightly more bearable. I kept my breaths short and harsh— the sound blinding itself into the pitch. I cried out when a sharp pain presented itself at the inner markings of my wrist. I backhanded the open air, my vision becoming more jumbled which only stressed me more despite the little worm of logic that told me to remain calm.

Slowly, the ringing in my ears subsided to a dull vibration and my vision distorted once more before clearing. Carlisle, Mr. Varner and Edward stood before me, their glances worried and full of fear; of me or for me, I was uncertain.

With caution, I rose from my crouch, grimacing as my muscles protested at this action. Edward stepped forward, his emerald eyes concerned, his hands extended to aid me. I flinched away from him, watching with a certain heaviness in my chest as his face fell and he backed away.

Sighing heavily, I pulled on my t-shirt, edging it so that it would go as far as it would, "Now if you excuse me," I said quietly, my voice raspy, "I need to make a phone call."

I began to walk out of what was to be assumed to be the infirmary. I had one thing repeating itself in my mind, and it was to contact Dr. Banner. He would know what to do; he always knew what I should do.

A hand clamped down onto my wrist and I whipped around to become toe to toe with Mr. Varner. My upper lip curled up into a snarl, "I suggest you release me, Mr. Varner, unless you want a black eye to accompany the handprint," I seethed, smirking at the red mark that decorated his right cheek.

Mr. Varner swallowed thickly, flexing his grip on my wrist but choosing to hold on, "Explain to me what happened in Maribel," he demanded.

I glared at him, tilting my head in slight confusion. Maybe he was a deaf, as well as a brute, "Did you not hear? I am going to make a phone call!" I screeched, sounding more like a petulant child than anything else.

Mr., Varner's gaze darkened, "I heard you, Isabella, but you are not to leave this room until you are stable," he growled, his tone demanding.

Without much thought, my right fist came up and hit him square in the eye, causing his grip to falter and for him too double over in agony, "I will decide when I am stable. When I finish that phone call, I will return," I growled, straightening my shirt and walking out of the room.

~TMW01~

My feet padded on the cold tile as I ran to my dormitory. I threw the door open with all my might. Stumbling over to my telephone dialing the number I had memorized so long ago.

The phone rang twice, causing me to become antsy but luckily the voice I had wanted to hear, answered, "Hello?"

"Dr. Banner," I sighed in relief.

"Isabella, it's good to hear from you," he said, a smile in his tone. But after a beat, he asked, "What's wrong?"

A nervous chuckle escaped from me, my index finger twirling the curly cord of the phone, "Wrong? Nothing's wrong!" I winced at my voice cracked and raised an octave in an unconvincing tone.

There was a silence on the other end before he spoke again, softly, "Tell me."

And with those two words, I began to blurt out everything that had happened from the moment I had arrived to Carlisle taking me to the café in Maribel. It ended with me gasping out, "Roger's back."

Silence on the other end once again before his voice came back, serious, "What happened?"

I inhaled deeply before beginning, "I was in a café, and he was spying on me from the window. I chased him and when he knocked me down, he drugged me and—"

"Drugged you? Are you alright?" he asked; his tone sharp and concerned.

"Yeah. I mean, I feel fine—"

"Isabella, I want you to hang up and go to the infirmary. We'll do some digging and get back to you," he said sternly.

"I don't think Roger would want me dead yet—"

"ISABELLA!" he bellowed, causing my ears to ring uncomfortably. His tone shut me up, causing my jaw to clack against my teeth.

Dr. Banner sighed. I could practically see him rubbing his temple in frustration. I also knew that the pressing matter was wearing on him— never, in all my years, had I heard him raise his voice to anyone. Not even in anger, "Isabella, just do as I say. Go to the infirmary and get taken care of, okay?"

I sighed, "Okay," I muttered.

There was a pause before he spoke softly, "I'm glad you're alive, Isabella," he murmured.

I barked out a laugh, "Yeah, me too."

A small laugh resounded through the phone, "There's my girl. Now, Mr. Varner is on line two….what should I do about that?" he said, his tone amused.

I snickered, "Ignore everything."

Dr. Banner laughed, "Stay safe Isabella. I promise to get back to you," with that, the phone clicked, ending the phone call.

I inhaled deeply, holding my breath for a moment before exhaling and exiting my dorm, only to freeze when I saw Edward sitting on the floor, against eh wall, twirling a small silver phone. He looked up when he sensed me, his copper hair mussed up and slightly greasy at the roots. His jade colored eyes were blank— and I knew something was the matter.

"How much did you hear?" I snarled, unable to hold back my irrational anger and defensive side over my privacy.

Edward stood up, holding his hands up in mock surrender, "None of it, Coach," he murmured quietly, his tone controlled.

But even with his tone tight, it calmed me and my muscles slowly relaxed into place. I paused before continuing, "What are you doing here?"

Edward sighed, running his fingers through the slightly greasy hair— I began to see the reason that it was so dirty now; maybe it's a force of habit? "Everyone's looking for you. You were poisoned and you're pushing time for this," he said monotonously, pulling out a clear baggie from his coat. Inside the bad, laid a syringe in it.

Quickly, I snatched the bag and opened it, automatically administering the medicine to myself. I watched at the clear liquid eased out of the syringe, recognizing the medicine as it was pushed into my body, "Belladonna? He poisoned me with belladonna?"

Edward nodded solemnly, merely standing there as I finished administering the medicine to myself. I began to feel the effects. I too a step towards the door but the room began to turn on its axis.

I heard Edward sigh once more, before he picked me up— supporting me from behind my knees and the small of my back, "If you had waited a minute, I would have told you it causes dizziness," he chided tightly.

I groaned, "Don't sass me."

I watched as Edward's jaw worked u and down, before he spoke his voice tight and controlled, "Coach, I'm kind of mad at you; so I would appreciate it if you didn't talk so much."

I frowned, clamping my mouth shut; listening to my jaw clack once more. I knew Carlisle had the right to be angry with me— hell, even Mr. Varner had that right. But Edward? Why would he possibly be angry?

We arrived at the infirmary doors and Edward kicked them open, surprising everyone in the infirmary. Carlisle's gaze was one of pure relief, "Good, you took the medicine. I was afraid you had passed the time constraint," he sighed, quickly grabbing a small flashlight and checked my eyes. Before I could protest, the flashlight disappeared, becoming replaced with a small thermometer and shoving it into my mouth.

I glared at him, taking the thermometer out for a second, "Where's the doctor?"

Gently, Carlisle guided my hand back to my mouth so I could put the thermometer in, "I am the doctor," he said brightly, whirling away to get something else.

I took the thermometer out again as Edward gently set me down on a cot, "But you're the herbology teacher!"

Carlisle sighed, "Edward, do you mind?"

At those words, Edward shoved the thermometer back into my mouth with unnecessary force. I glared at him, accepting thermometer this time.

Carlisle turned around, fiddling with a stack of papers, his sky blue eyes gazing at me with amusement, "I am a herbology teacher, but most importantly, I am a doctor. The nurses take care of small things, such as the flu— but poisonings, or more complicated illnesses are in my vicinity," he explained, picking out a manila file and setting it apart from the rest.

He then sat down at the foot of my bed, taking the thermometer out and checking it and nodding, satisfied with my body temperature. He then gazed at me, completely serious, "Now, explain to me how you came across belladonna poisoning."

I swallowed thickly, struggling with the simple task, "Well you see, I met up with a….friend," I spat the last word out, suggesting to them that it wasn't a friend.

Far from it.

The pair of chocolate eyes echoed in the base of my memory, causing my breath to shoot out of my lungs.

"And?" Carlisle asked; his tone a bit impatient.

I took a moment to regain my breath, "I caught up to him, and we fought. And when I wasn't paying attention, he injected something at my neck," I said, rubbing the juncture between my neck and shoulder.

Carlisle scooted up the bed, removing my hand from my neck, examining the puncture wound— prodding it with his fingers, "Yes, I see the hole from the syringe," he murmured.

I shrugged, lying back onto the pillows, "That's all I remember," I lied with a straight face.

"Yes," Carlisle murmured, sounding a bit distracted. His eyes then turned to me, blank, "And what was it about you telling me about your brother?"

I stared back, feeling my mask fall into place, "I must have been delirious— belladonna is known to cause dementia when it reaches the brain," I sat quickly.

Carlisle's sky blue eyes delved into me, trying to dissect my expression, his shoulders finally sagging, "Alright," he said standing.

I sat up quickly, "Can I go to my room now?" I asked, my tone high pitched and rather needy sounding.

Carlisle sighed, standing and leaning against a nearby table, "I suppose. Take it easy for the next few days," Carlisle warned, watching as I jumped out of bed, glad the dizziness was over.

"Great! Thanks for everything; I'll see you tomorrow, yes?" I called out, walking out the door before he could answer me.

I strolled down the hallway, my heart beating quicker than a humming bird's wings. All of this was impossible. It could not be happening.

It has to stay away.

The past had to stay away.

I listened as quick footsteps followed me, trailing after me. I saw in my peripheral vision a flash of copper hair. I kept my leisure pace, ignoring the added company that I had acquired. I could feel his anger coming off of him in waves.

"You're a liar," he spat through gritted teeth, doing the honor of breaking the ice first.

I paused mid-step, whirling around to meet livid emeralds that burned into the forefront of my skull, "You have the gall to accuse me?" I hissed, stepping forward, now livid myself.

"Yes I do," he snapped, never flinching or backing down, "Belladonna does cause dementia, but I made sure your blood slowed by piling the snow on top of you. I made sure the belladonna didn't reach your brain— your dementia never existed in the first place!"

His words struck a chord, my head tilted to the side as I looked up at him, "So it was you," I mused out loud, "You were the one that kept me alive."

"Damn right," he snarled, never seeming more beautiful as his anger lit up the lovely jade eyes, "And your body was too damn stubborn to cooperate with me; I nearly lost you underneath my fingertips," he growled, stepping forward; too close for me. I stumbled back, hitting the wall behind me.

His arms came on either side of my head, "Now what are you hiding?" he asked softly, his soft breath caressing my face.

I stared up, unnaturally scared of the boy who held me against the wall. And I didn't like that feeling. It was uncomfortable, and it made me uneasy— to feel the fear. It infected and poisoned quicker than the belladonna ever could.

Without hesitation, I pushed against his shoulders, watching as he took a step back, "I don't have to answer you, Mr. Masen, we are not friends, and we will not become anything closely related to as such," my breathing was heavy at this point,

"Most importantly, I am your professor. The kind you don't want to piss off. And I warn you, Mr. Masen; now that I see how badly all of you need training and I'm not going to hold back. Not even for you," I seethed.

"Why would you?" he growled blackly.

At that I paused. It was an awfully good question. Why would this one student be special— set apart from the others?

Rather than answering, I pushed him away, stalking off, seething at what happened.

Roger had come after me. Not only had he left me lying in the snow, my veins pumped full of belladonna, but he had left me with a warning and a threat:

'We'll meet again,'

I couldn't waste anymore time.

No more favorites or laughs, or smiles.

Time to put on my battle gear.

A/N: REVIEW! Review, review, review!

Best wishes,

Themidnightwriter01