What do you call the head nacho of an asylum? Headmaster? Administrator? I went with director. Psht. I'm making this up as I go ;-)

I hear them before I see them, my arms shooting out, pressing Esme and I against the door, away from the clattering. Their footsteps sound like a herd of wild animals stampeding down the hallway. And that's what they were. Animals. So I guess it's fitting. Hale leads the charge, holding a whistle to his lips, as if the blaring screech will break up the brawl between the two men.

Edward and Evenson don't even flinch in their direction. Though in his defense, Evenson is probably unable to. Edward's fist is relentless as he takes the upper hand of the fight. He's possessed with just one thought: destroy Evenson's face. He's done a fairly good job at it, despite having only seconds before Hale's pulling him off of the battered man.

It takes Hale and another orderly to hold Edward back while another two check on Evenson. I can't tell if he's conscious or not through his swollen eyes until he grimaces and spits blood in Edward's direction. Even after his beating, he still begs for Edward to attack.

"That all you got, Masen?" It's hard to understand him through the painful slur in his speech. "I've had worse from women in this hellhole."

Edward rages, pulling at the arms holding him back as Evenson is dragged down the hall and out of sight. Hale huffs and puffs with the effort, his eyes resolute when his strength fails him. "Calm the fuck down, Edward!"

Edward twists in his arms, pushing Hale hard enough that he slams into the wall. "Fuck you, Jasper. You're just like them."

Hale's shoulders deflate, his eyes pleading with desperation as he throws his hands up in surrender. He speaks so low I almost miss his whisper, "You know I have no choice."

His eyes meet mine, and it's like he suddenly remembers where he is. That too-rich-too-perfect-too-bright smile comes so easily to him. "Be careful, Patient Masen. You're already on Dr. Blacks watch list. One more strike. That's all it takes before you end up like your friend over there."

"Fuck you both," Edward says, turning his back, his face filled with so much fury as his eyes land on me.

The door still vibrates against my back, a constant thrum through all this craziness. "Stop! Stop! Stop!"

Edward walks toward me, and for a brief second, the sight of his bloody knuckles scares me enough to curl into a ball, pressing closer to Esme. Rosalie glares at me from over Esme's shoulder, and the guilt consumes. He was my green savoir before he was Dr. Edward Masen. There isn't anything different from the man he is now to the man that saved me from Hale's clutches. I am a horrible person for thinking that he could ever do me any harm.

I plead with my eyes, hoping he looks my way, but he ignores me as he presses his palm to the wood. "It's okay, old friend. Esme is okay."

"Peter! Stop! Stop! Stop!"

"Edward?" I ask. He takes a deep breath, slowing letting it out as he glances down at me through his eyelashes, his look so guarded it hurts my heart. "Who's in there?"

"Dr. Carlisle Cullen." He wavers, swaying unsteadily on his feet as everything seemingly catches up with him. "My friend and mentor, and previous director of Port Angeles Asylum."

He rests his forehead on the door, softly pounding his head against the wood. He squeezes his fists shut as if he's keeping every emotion bottled up inside of him. Blood drips from his knuckles, splashing near my feet, and I can't imagine the pain that he's in. I grab his wrist. He looks startled at my touch, his arm jerking away, but I don't let him, using the leverage to pull me up to a stand.

He watches me warily as I press the end of my sleeve against his open wound. "Will you tell me about it?"

"Are you ready to listen?"

"Yes."