*Disclaimer: I own nothing recognizable; all those rights go to Stephenie Meyer. All song rights go to the listed artist. I only own any original characters.

AN… another chapter written so wanted to release one from the vault. Time to work out trauma and get support back into Bella's life.

I'm paralyzed

Where are my feelings?

I no longer feel things

I know I should

I'm paralyzed

Where is the real me?

I'm lost, and it kills me - inside

I'm paralyzed

When did I become so cold?

When did I become ashamed? (ooh)

Where's the person that I know?

They must have left

They must have left

With all my faith

Song~Paralyzed

Artist~ NF

A deep, ragged breath escaped his broken expression as he sat with his legs hanging over the ledge of his rooftop perch. He casually raised the nearly empty bottle to his lips, taking a long pull at its cold but strong contents. His eyes wearily focused on the city before him, and the nightlife slowly came more alive the further the sun slipped behind the enormous skyscrapers that littered the city's center.

Like a match had been struck, his despondent nature burned away as an ire slowly rose, taking its place. Feeling his muscles tense, a growl of frustration escaped, resulting in the bottle he held tightly in his grasp, taking the brunt of his mood as he released it into the void with a hard throw.

As the glass shattered, he slung his feet back onto the concrete of the warehouse's rooftop, instantly pacing, hoping to release his irritation.

He could feel his body trembling from the overload of heightened emotions he seemed void of moments ago but now caused his body to quiver with their intensity. This was his new constant; one minute, he was paralyzed by the emptiness and the next, he was like a live wire overrun with emotions and desires he didn't understand. He sat up here on that perch for god knows how long, staring out into the city, as he drank from that old tequila bottle, hoping maybe somehow at the bottom would be a genie and grant his wish for answers to all his questions.

But like any other time he tried to lose himself in the bottle, it didn't do a damn thing to help ease the burdens that plagued his mind or help reduce the numbness or anger that resided inside him. His emotions were coming to a head as if they were a liquid in a pot and about to boil over onto the stovetop.

His pacing abruptly stopped as a loud, agonized scream was released and echoed around him as his fist flew forward. However, when flesh met the mortar of the wall, he felt nothing from it, no pain, no relief, only for a dam to break as his scream broke into a sob, and his body shifted to look back out at the lively city as his body crumbled under his pain slumping backward and for the cool brick to catch him and become his crutch bracing him as he slid down coming to rest at its base; pulling his knees up while wrapping his arms around them to pull them tighter to his chest was his attempt at holding himself together. Slowly, he rested his forehead on his forearms as he curled into himself for strength.

For weeks, he had been consumed with this lost feeling. His mind was in a constant state of fog, almost like a permanent hangover. He felt so lost in that fog his only constant was the knowledge of his name and the overwhelming need to stay close to this rundown warehouse. But why? And exactly who was he outside of a name? He couldn't answer those questions, no matter how much he searched through his cloudy mind.

Sometimes, though, it was like he could see something he recognized at the back of the fog, yet with each step closer to it, it seemed to cower away from him and slip further away in an attempt to stay hidden.

His anxiety started to take hold, causing his calming tick to surface as his upper teeth took purchase of his lower lip. He gnawed on it while navigating the hazy part of his mind again before quitting on the daunting task.

Slowly, he lifted his head to rest on the wall behind him, and his eyes rose to take in the starry sky above him. His mind shifted to the first night he felt like this. Swallowing hard and with a deep breath, he let his eyes slip closed as the memories of that night began to play like a bad horror movie in his mind's eye.

He was sure he was in hell; he burned so badly for days as he was trapped in the darkness, forced to swallow each plea and scream that he desperately wanted to let out. Each second felt like someone kept dousing his body in some type of accelerate, making the fire burn hotter and faster. The pain was all-consuming, yet he could feel his heart beating, making him wonder, 'Could you have a heartbeat in hell?'

He burned so long that he lost track of time until, for the briefest and longest minute of his existence, the heat rose to an inferno. That's when he felt his low-beating heart shuttering to a stop and his thoughts floating away. But as he reached the end of his tether, he felt his heart rate kick back into a loud, smooth rhythm and cool air filling his once-burning lungs.

His eyes immediately snapped open, seeking light after so long in the darkness, only to be consumed with a sea of white, causing his fear to spike higher and in a jolt, sitting up only to roll to the side with the momentum and tumble to the cold hard ground tangled up in a white sheet. His skin felt like it was vibrating from the overwhelming emotions as he took in his surroundings of the cold, sterile room he found himself in; small locker-like metal doors lined the one wall, and next to where he lay was a steel-like table. With shaking hands, he slowly unraveled his prone form from the sheet that covered his nude body; as the fabric finally fell away, he braced his grip onto the metal tray next to him, only for it to topple when trying to bear weight to it resulting in him falling again to the cold, unforgiving ground but this time he was surrounded by the contents of the table that had spilled under his grip.

His brow furrowed at the shiny metal tools that littered the floor; slowly, he reached out to the closest object. Taking it in between his fingers, he pulled it closer to him, studying it briefly before his eyes rose to again take in the room as his body started to tremble from the realization that came to him out of nowhere. "morgue, I'm in a morgue" his tone rising in fear of where he was and what was about to happen. The Scalpel fell from his hand as he darted to his feet and braced himself on the cold table he fell from. He was about to be cut open, but why was he down here in a place for the dead if he was alive?

His thoughts were starting to race. How did he get here? Why would he be here? He wasn't supposed to be here... he was alive. He tried to pull at his memory, but everything in his mind felt heavy and foggy. Suddenly, a metallic sound caused his thoughts to fall away. His eyes flicked up to see the door to the lab open. A man in a white lab coat entered the room so deeply engrossed in a clipboard to notice his naked form that moments ago laid on the table between them void of any signs of life. As the door clicked shut, he watched the man in white look up and for fear to take hold as he saw what he was sure was a dead man now standing before him, looking very much alive.

He heard the hitch of the man's breath, and somehow, his increased heart rate and the acrid scent that a baser instinct told him was that of fear. The would-be doctor's fear had him jerk backward only to stumble, forcing his arm to reach out in hopes of bracing himself. As the man and white caught himself, a hiss of pain slipped out as his hand grazed the sharp edge of the countertop. All too quick, a sweet smell caught his nose, causing his mouth to salivate, his eyes flicking to the doctor's hand that dripped the slightest bit of blood.

He didn't understand why he wanted to taste that red liquid. Not realizing he had moved from the table, he suddenly stood before the frightened examiner. A part of him knew this was wrong, wanting to taste this man's blood. That part of him warred with the other factor that pleaded to taste it. As the blood dripped from the wound, he suddenly became hungry for that red life-giving fluid. His eyes couldn't look away from the bleeding wound, and with a shaky hand, he reached out and dabbed his finger in the small clotting pool before pulling his finger back to his mouth.

His trembling increased as his body screamed to taste it. In contrast to, the other part screamed the opposite, rebelling at the idea as he watched the blood run down his finger. He could no longer fight it and gave into the primal desire that plagued him, his finger coming closer to his lips as his tongue darted out to taste the cooling liquid. As his tongue slipped upward, he could feel his eyes roll back in pleasure at the taste that momentarily sated his craving.

As he reached the tip of his finger, his tongue shot back into his mouth, and he stumbled back in shock and disgust at what he had just done.

His senses briefly returned, reminding him how wrong it was. Still, the taste lingered on his taste buds, and they began to call for more, overruling that moral sense of how wrong this was. His stomach pained, and it felt like ants crawled on his skin as he fought the urge to take more. The smell of the blood still pouring caused a sob to break from his throat as he looked up, not missing the terror in the man's blue eyes. "I am so sorry," he choked through his broken sob before lunging forward and allowing his ingrained instincts to take control as his mouth attached to the man's neck and for his teeth to bite down, allowing the warm fluid to fill his mouth and drain down his throat. His assault continued until he felt the man stop moving, and the taste of the blood started to become bitter.

As he snapped back into his right mind, he pulled his mouth away from the man's neck, stumbling away as horror filled him at what he had done to the man who now lay at his feet in a bloody pool. He knew he needed to leave and put space between himself and this place before someone else walked in to possibly meet the same fate.

Quickly, he darted around the room, rifling through bags with random names and taking out anything in those belongings that looked like it would fit.

Picking up his newly acquired clothing, he hastily made his way to the bathroom, using a shirt as a barrier to leave no trace of himself. He flicked on a light. The sight caused him to cringe at what he saw staring back in the mirror. Using a paper towel, he turned on the faucet, scrubbing his hands before using a wad of towels to clean up his blood-stained face.

Not caring what it was or looked like, he grabbed a pair of pants, a shirt, and a sweatshirt, dressing without hesitation before sitting down on the toilet to slip on a pair of sneakers brought the white tag tied to his big toe to his attention. With his shaking hands, he ripped it free, reading the name and age at least ten times before shoving the label into his pocket and placing the slightly too big shoes onto his feet. Quickly, he left the bathroom and made his way to the door, stopping briefly at the clipboard that lay in the pool of blood oozing from the neck wound. His name was boldly printed on top of the official-looking form. Reaching down, he grabbed the blood-soaked paper, folding it before cramming it into his pocket with the tag he ripped free moments ago as the instinct to hide his tracks took hold. With one more glance at the man he had slain and another silent apology, he pulled the sweatshirt's sleeve over his hand as he pulled open the door and darted into the hallway, following the exit signs to freedom.

As he fled the basement exit door, he pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up and stepped into the sun's rays. He kept walking, following an unseen drive to make it to safety and letting his instinct lead him as he blindly followed them to this warehouse that soothed his inner need to be someplace safe. The building was a burnt-out mess; its inner walls scorched black as burned-out objects scattered the main hall. He couldn't help but realize the irony of how this place, like him, was in shambles.

That night, he tucked himself into one of the burned-out room's back corners as he let himself fall to his knees and weep at the realization that he had killed a man by latching onto him like a parasite and drinking his blood, causing a wave of nausea to well inside his stomach. 'That wasn't normal; people aren't supposed to be cannibalistic; it wasn't natural,' whimpered through his thoughts. Yanking out the blood-stained paper from the clipboard, he read it. His name was boldly at the top, his height, his weight, and there in the comments manner of death homicide. Light tremors started in his hands as he read it again and again as he caught the date of the homicide being three days before the date at the top of the form that represented today. How could any of that be true? He remembered his heart still pumping while he burned in what he thought was hell, only briefly sputtering to a stop before slamming back into action right before he woke up under that sheet.

He desperately wanted some answers, but nothing came through the fog in his mind. How could you be alive but listed as dead? His eyes caught sight of a shard of glass; slowly, he reached out, taking the sharp object between his fingers and pressing it onto his flesh. He had to see if he still bled; he could hear his heart pumping, but did he bleed? He had to know he was alive. Pressing down, he felt the sharpness of the object, causing his heart rate to increase as a sliver of hope that the paper was wrong began to rise. However, as he pulled down the glass, nothing, not even a scratch on his skin, and at that moment, his heart turned heavy as it sank the piece of glass slipping from his fingers as reality took hold, and a cry of devastation broke free.

He knew at that moment he wasn't human anymore. Humans bleed, don't eat others, and don't have super hearing and speed. As his anxiety about this new reality took hold, he bit down his lower lip and began to rock back and forth as he warred with what this meant.

What was he if not human? His mind flickered from thought to thought, trying to pull at something that seemed plausible. Finally, the fog started to part, and things of lore from stories and movies began to surface more quickly than any memory of his life before becoming this monster. Finally, the last puzzle piece clicked in place as the once enigma he struggled to understand became clear. Only one thing in folklore had he ever heard of feasted on blood. Still, that same folklore told him he couldn't be in the sun and shouldn't have a beating heart. Yet, it was the only explanation. "Vampire," whimpered brokenly as he again glanced at the sheet of paper. It was true what it said: he was dead, only the living dead.

His eyes fluttered open to the starry sky above as a pained groan rumbled in his chest. His right hand rose to swat away the tears that stained his cheeks as the pain of this new life overwhelmed him.

There was so much he still didn't understand, but since that night, he made sure to keep his distance from humans to try and eliminate another grisly murder of an innocent person. But his need for blood still called to him, as did the desire for an average human meal of food. After trying to resist the pull to drink for two days, he could barely fight off the need to feed when he heard his salvation as he listened to an old radio he had found among the warehouse wreckage. It was a commercial for a blood bank. A blanket of relief wrapped around him as he heard the ad, knowing he had his answer.

That night, he found the building and, again, with a deep-rooted instinct, picked the lock with ease, allowing him to safely feed the monster that lurked beneath the surface.

It was now a ritual every other week; he would make his way back, pick the lock, and bring home just enough blood, storing it safely in an old generator-run refrigerator he found in the back room. He used the same method to feed his human side, finding a local market in the evening, picking its lock, and returning what he needed to the warehouse to consume later.

The sound of voices, distant heartbeats, and the slamming of a door had pulled him from his reprieve and caused him to jump at the unexpected event. Nobody had come here all these weeks, and his fear spiked at having someone so close with a heartbeat. He felt no hunger, but his fear of involuntarily hurting someone again made him want these intruders gone.

Rising to his feet, he needed to know who was there and why. He couldn't leave this place. It was the only place that felt safe.

'What if these people were the owners?' darted briefly through his thoughts but quickly threw out that idea. When did building owners ever come and inspect their property in the dead of night? His thoughts shifted now to it being a pair of kids out looking for a hangout or mischief. Whatever the purpose of these visitors was, it didn't matter. He needed them gone for their safety and his sanity.

With a deep breath to settle his nerves, he ran to the ledge and jumped, landing soundlessly on the balls of his feet like a jungle cat on the ground below. Silently, he stalked forward, following the sound of the now single heartbeat. 'Where did the other go?' pulsed through his thoughts as he strained to find the other person he was sure was there. Deciding to give up on their whereabouts for the time being, he crept forward following the sound of the remaining heartbeat. As it guided him, he came to the base of a mangled staircase covered in debris. The door at the top was now open, causing his interest to peak. In these weeks, he never considered going up these stairs to see what lay behind that old metal door. He wondered what made this stranger risk their safety to climb this staircase and pry open that door. With his nimble reflexes, he quickly scaled the stairs. He entered the doorway to see a small entryway before another open door bathed in light from within.

His curiosity again rose, causing him to step forward as he passed through the door's entry. He felt overcome with shock at the well-preserved homely living room inside. It was adorned with couches, tables, a television, knickknacks, and photos. Briefly losing focus on his task, he stepped forward to a set of photographs lining the wall to his left, his eyes locking onto one particular photo. There he stood with a group of other men that could pass as his brothers. 'did I have brothers?' pondered through his thoughts before they shifted back to the task at hand as he heard a whimpering cry that reminded him he wasn't here alone 'had one of these men in the photograph come back looking for him?' coursed through his mind as he stepped forward through the living room to enter the hallway where the light at the end from an open doorway told him his guest resided. As he made his way down the narrow space, he noticed the abundance of photos lining the walls, creating a mental note to return later to Assess them. Maybe they held some answers about himself.

As he approached the door jam, he peeked through the cracked door to see purple walls and a canopy bed littered with stuffed animals. At that moment, he realized this was a child's room. 'But whose child had resided here? Was it his?' That thought caused a mixed reaction to course through him as he simultaneously felt hope, excitement, worry, and fear. As he exited the overload of emotions, he became aware he had entered the room. He now stood bedside with a black teddy bear adorning a purple ribbon in his hands. He didn't know why, but this bear pulled at something deep inside him. It held a significance that he didn't understand.

Suddenly, he felt a crushing pain and pressure around his throat as a deep growl filtered through his ears and a high-pitched scream mixed in with the growl. Shifting his eyes upward, he could see the golden ones of his assailant that glittered in a warning.

Suddenly, a more diminutive form peeked around the hulking man that pinned him to the wall. A gasp and a sob caught his attention, causing him to shift his focus entirely to the smaller framed being that stood at his attacker's side. There stood a trembling, crying girl. As his gaze rose to meet hers, his mind stalled when his brown eyes met peridot green. He knew those eyes; the fog that plagued him rapidly began to recede as memories became unlocked, and he was finally able to reach that faraway back place in his mind that always seemed to be just out of reach.

"Mia," his voice was a broken, strained whisper.

Suddenly remembering it all, the sight of her standing before him filled him with relief she was alive and had survived the retribution. He saw her nod in acknowledgment as tears slipped down her pained face as she shoved and pleaded with the giant that had him pinned.

After what seemed like a lifetime, he found himself free, and as soon as his aggressor stepped back, he felt a pair of slim arms wrapping around his waist as she buried her face into his sternum as hiccuping sobs increased when he wrapped his arms gently around her only for a growl of warning to hit his ears causing his gaze to lift and meet the man that stood guard. He couldn't help but roll his eyes. He knew he was dangerous, but he also knew he'd kill himself before ever harming a hair on her.

Somehow, her embrace got tighter, and he couldn't help the smile and relief that took over his features. Her embrace felt like a balm to his broken soul. He had been in hell for weeks trying to piece it all together. All it took was one look at her, and the missing pieces clicked into place, completing him and the puzzle of the answers he was looking for. It was the first time since he woke up in that morgue that he felt something outside of numbness, anger, and despair. With her firmly in his arms, he finally felt hope again.

He felt her shift and slightly pull back, causing him to look down into her teary peridot eyes. His smile grew even brighter as he wiped away the tears staining her face and shushed her to soothe the pain he saw buried deeply in them.

With a nod and a sigh, she closed her eyes and leaned into his hand before a small smile appeared. Her eyes opened again, locking with his.

"I missed you so much, Cruz," sniffled out as she again leaned forward, wrapping herself tightly around him.

"I missed you too, munchkin."

Hope everyone enjoyed the reunion and twist. It's a slow burn but making progress.