Chapter Two: Into the Unknown Paranormal

A/N: Alright, this is Into the Unknown Paranormal, chapter two of The Subject. I'm writing this as we speak (figure of speech) and I hope to have it finished by later tonight. It's 11:47 right now, so maybe it will be finished by 1:00 am? Oh well, who needs sleep? I do it all for you. And you can thank Coco-cola and hot chocolate with extra chocolate for my hype. Laters, Em.


Chapter Two: Into the Unknown Paranormal


Realize
That the broken glass
The caution tape
The cries
Are just parting ties with the times you spent alone
We have been left to make it alone
Running through these flooded hallways
Can we make it out alive

And it's more than just a loss
But it's over
We're not singing mournful thoughts
And it's over
(And I can't wait)
Can't wait
(Until we give it all away)
And we're giving up our lives
For this revolution.

Hang 'em High

I seep into the blackness I only know too well. My head solidly connects with the hard hospital pillow and my eyes flicker restlessly with flashing images of my past.

"Bella? Bella! Bella?" Relentless rhythm. Hypnotic harmony of voices calling my name in an endless symphony. Soft hands connect with my face but I barely feel their tender touch. Their loveliness is slipping away from me... no, you can't leave...

"Dammit, Isabella! You piece of...clean this up!" A slap connects with the flush of my cheek, and I reel back, holding my face. I force back tears. No one will see me cry. Bending over quickly, I pick up the tiny glass shards on the wooden floor and place them in my hand carefully. Renee watches my progress in hate. Her eyes are glued to me and makes it uncomfortable as I'm afraid she'll hit me again for not cleaning up her mess fast enough. I move faster, afraid of another blow, and the shards start to disappear from the floor. A large glass piece lands to hard in my left palm and I get a small cut. Blood pools into my palm and my nose senses the repulsing rust-and-salt smell. I wince a little as Renee scoffs and walks away, bored.

I watch her limp lazily over to the loveseat in our small living room. She grabs the remote resting on the end table and flips through channels on our holographic television mindlessly. Her fluffy baby-blue robe is draped over the couch, and she pulls it on. The television finally rests on the food network. After a few minutes the show and realistic view of gourmet food gets the best -whatever her best is- of her, and she yells at me from across the room.

"Isabella! Make me a sandwich or something. That's all your good for." I flinch at the comment, and place the last piece of the once-was glass cup and throw them all in a trash bin disposal by the edge of the kitchen counter. My cheek begins to smart and I ponder whether or not Renee would get angry if I put an icepack to it. I decide against that thought and start preparing a typical ham and cheese sandwich with mayo and pickles, just the way Renee likes it.

While the bread is toasting, I simmer and explore for a band-aid in the kitchen. Damn Renee and her clumsy fingers. She shouldn't have dropped it and above all I shouldn't have cleaned it up for her like some slave. She might as well owned me that way. Renee knew everything I did, twenty-four/seven. She almost never let me out of our apartment, except for errands, school, or tutoring after school. Which I really didn't do or need, I just wondered around aimlessly in the school neighborhood regretting to go home and regretting not to and disobeying Renee. I guess it didn't really matter, she's always pissed at me anyway for being born.

Renee has always complained about giving birth to me with my father, Charlie. She said I'm never good enough to be called her daughter and she doesn't allow me to live with my dad, even though I know he's not much better.

"Where's my damn sandwich?" Renee shouts from the next room, and I jump out of my revere -and skin, I should say. Crap, I've taken too long, she's going to yell at me. I run over to the toaster and all but rip my hair out and shout at the Gods of Toast. The bread has toasted to an inedible black crisp. The toaster's broken, and you have to manually lift the slider to raise up the toast when it's to your liking. But I've taken to long, and now I don't have any food to give to Renee.

I mayo the toast anyway, and unsuccessfully try to scrape off the menacing black on the bread. I sigh and pile on pickles, American cheese, and ham into the mix. I pour some milk into a glass, place the sandwich on a fancy black plate that Renee keeps in a top cabinet where she keeps important eating-ware and slowly make my way toward the loveseat.

"Here..." I say timidly and set the food and milk on the coffee table by her feet. Renee takes one look at it and glares at me. "What the hell is that? I can't eat shit. Make me another one you stupid whore, and do it right." Icy daggers that are her eyes pierce into my soul, and scare the child inside it. I nod curtly, undeniably grateful that she didn't strike me, and go back into the kitchen. I lean over at the sink and close my eyes. Washing my hands and face to clean off the chilled sweat on the back of my neck, I think of Charlie.

How is he? Back in quite Forks, Washington? I've only been there twice in my life, both of those times I had been too afraid to tell him about Renee and her abusive nature. I liked it in Forks, it's quant and friendly but much too boring for my taste to live there for an extended period. I'd still take Forks over Phoenix any day if it mean't escaping this hell hole Renee calls The Abode.

I turn the faucet off and wave 'bye' to the water as it drains down the sink. I wish I had the freedom the did.

I stick to the simple this time, and set up the ingredients for peanut butter and jelly, when there's a hard knock at the door. My eyes settle on Renee and I ask her silently if I should get the door for her. She waves me off and get up off the couch, groaning. There must be somebody she really likes at the door. Or somebody she doesn't want me to see.

She glides past me and clutches the island counter in her drunk stupor, before slamming open the fake wooden door to reveal a tall, menacing man leaning in our doorway.

"Hey, Phil." Renee giggles and waves him into the house. He looks around like he really doesn't give a shit, before his eyes settle on me. A smile plays on the edges of his lips before I duck my head and butter Renee's bread even though I know she won't eat it with company over. "'common, Phil, let's go to my room."

The half-smile she gives him almost causes me to wretch as Phil takes off his baseball cap and sets it on a coat-holder peg along with his beaten brown leather jacket. Phil winks at me and my skin crawls as he follows my mom upstairs to her room. I hear a door slam shut and jump a little. I put jelly on the rest of the sandwich and then fold the pieces together, cutting the break diagonally. Renee never eats anything with a horizontal cut.

I cough and search through a drawer where Renee places all her miscellaneous items and scrounge up a big skin-colored band-aid. I press it softly against the stinging cut on my palm and then make an icepack -ice cubes in a plastic bag wrapped in a dishtowel- and settle it on my burning cheek. I sigh at the sweet chilly relief as I hear a headboard hitting the wall of my mother's bedroom upstairs...

*beep*

*beep*

*beep*

I blink my eyes open and stare up at a white ceiling as I suppress a groan from the pain of a memory. My hand stings and I wonder crazily if it's my cut from the glass shard when I look at my hand it's an IV connected with my wrist. Did Renee put that there? I know she's into some crazy stuff, but what? I huff and groggily place my non-pierced arm over my face. How long have I been out? Not too long, hopefully, Renee would kill me if I slept in again... why can't I hear her shuffling downstairs? She's always up early... Renee never sleeps...
But wait, that was six year ago the day I first lay my eyes on Phil, a few months before it was legal for me to move out...

"Bella! You're awake!" Alice the Pixie dances over to me and giddily squeals like an excited school girl over some mediocre chick-flick vampire movie. "How are you feeling, Hun? Disoriented, most likely," She places a hand on my forehead and then a high-tech temperature stick pertrudes it's way into my mouth.

"Under the tongue," Alice orders and I oblige, even though I know the advanced medical stick could have read my temperature just fine settling in my mouth. Maybe she's old-fashioned...

Alice's beautifully manicured fingernail taps on her two front teeth as she waits for the stick to beep. I scan my surroundings and the first thing I think is Heaven. It's so bright, and white, and there's no pain. Am I still in the hospital? That would explain the IV... But shit, I was just at Renee's house.

The temp stick beeps once and I watch Alice's head bob as she confirms what I guess would be a normal temperature. Alice suddenly huffs and turns toward me.

"You've slept for a full twenty-one hours, Bella. Whatever Carlisle told you must have really thrown you over the edge for you to black out so fast and so strongly!" She sighs and shakes her head as if it's the saddest news she's ever heard. I wonder if it is. She seems too giggly and happy all the time I can't imagine anything ever putting The Pixie down.

"Yes...Doctor Carlisle said that I've been sleeping for ten years, er... yesterday." My stomach does flops and twists into knots. Carlisle lies. How can someone sleep for ten years? It wasn't a coma, I'm sure of that. Besides, I was with Renee... the entire time. I wince and my hand automatically shifts up to my cheek, which is no longer burning. Mmmm. It feels nice.

Alice nods at my answer even though I'm positive Blondie told her earlier. Is she just trying to get a reaction out of me? Or to see if I remember?

Pixie ignores my question and hands me a container of the strange silver metallic liquid. My throat is starting to burn again come to think of it...

I down the glass in a matter of thirty seconds and hand the container back to Alice, who sets it on a counter by my bed, which I notice I'm laying on, covering in white sheets. I take in that I'm not in the same box bed from twenty-one hours ago, I'm in a different room the practically all white and almost blinding. Alice's spiky midnight hair stands out and contrasts with the obscene brightness of the place.

"Can I get you anything?" Alice asks as she ghosts her way to the double gliding doors at the end of the hall on the left side of my bed, about ten feet away. There is real worry in her eyes and I can't put my finger on why. I feel my forehead crease into worried lines as I contemplate this, and then nod to The Pixie.

"Yes, you can get me Dr. Carlisle. I need to speak with him." About this strange hospital. About how I got here and exactly where here was. Maybe even about the peculiar soothing liquid I sucked earlier, or what's in the IV of my arm. What's a subject, and who is his nephew with the velvet voice?

Alice bobs her head 'yes' "Sure thing, Bella." her body is halfway through the exit when I halt her with words.

"Oh, and Alice?"

She sticks her head out from the doorway with the most questionable look on her face. Her brows form a tight V as she looks at me. "Yah, Bella?"

I laugh a little inwardly. "Make it fast."


End of Chapter Two