Outtake 1 - Dr. Nelson

I always wanted to help people. Even as a small child I had a desperate desire to be a doctor. I ignored sports that boys my age usually went for, rarely played outside. I’d instead sneak into my sister’s room and snatch her dolls and stuffed animals and play doctor. My parents didn’t quite understand it, my father despised it. He always wanted a son and after four girls he finally got his wish when my mom got pregnant with me. I’d been a disappointment in his eyes, but I couldn’t help that I knew my calling from day one. I was destined to be a doctor. I graduated medical school in 1983 from the University of Pittsburgh School Of Medicine and spent my 4 years of residency at a state mental hospital in Allentown, Pennsylvania. I can’t exactly recall when I started down the path of psychiatry in lieu of general medicine, but I don’t regret it. It was where I was supposed to be.

I won’t lie and tell you it was an easy ride. Psychiatry is dirty and ugly, more of an art than a science. Mental health patients rarely are fixable. Surgeons and the like get almost immediate gratification often from mending bones and fixing wounds, get tangible evidence of them having helped. Psychiatrists are in for lifelong rides; throwing everything they have into people and often never getting any sign that they’ve even made a difference. It’s not for everyone, that’s for sure.

Since completing my residency I’ve practiced throughout the country in numerous different hospitals and settings. State hospitals are always the worst, with the lack of funding and plethora of patients, often times criminally insane and uncooperative. The involuntarily committed ones were always the hardest, the ones sent to us because their mental illness led them to illegal activities. I always hated when one would come in—they were always difficult to get through to.

I finally settled in Washington State at a private hospital. I’d been practicing here for nearly 5 years and enjoying it for the most part. We had very few involuntarily committed patients come through, and in my five years there only two deemed criminally insane. They were all usually automatically sent to Eastern State Hospital in the town of Medical Lake or Western State Hospital in Lakewood. But occasionally one would come to a private hospital, when their family had enough money and sense to keep them from being sent to a state institution.

Darren Jones came in first. Darren was a nice kid but completely unable to function in society when he came to us. He was born and raised in Seattle, came from a wealthy family and was fairly spoiled growing up. He was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, so to speak. He was slightly naïve about the real world and joined the Marines fresh out of high school, purely for the glory of it. Operation Iraqi Freedom was already waging at this time and he was eventually deployed to Iraq. It was a big slap in the face, a huge dose of reality for him when that happened—he had a new wife and baby at home. His world came crashing down. He’d been unable to cope, his time overseas really messing with him. He was injured at the end of his tour of duty trying to save some fellow Marines and ended up discharged with a purple heart. He came home, completely broken and tormented, suffering from one of the worst cases of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder I’d ever seen. He abandoned his family and disappeared, took to living on the streets. His family was desperate to find him and save him, afraid of what would happen to him out there on his own while he was so unstable. He resorted to theft to get by, and used drugs to cope. He was withering away, killing himself slowly. It’s sad to say his own wife walked past him a few times on the street and didn’t even recognize him. It all eventually caught up to him, as it usually does. He walked into a bank, completely wacked out and determined to rob it, high on heroine and plagued by flashbacks from his time in the war. No one was injured in the situation but he threatened to kill himself and caused quite the showdown. He was arrested for that and a few other indiscretions and eventually found his way to us. He made great strides and I had high hopes for his future when he left the hospital. He’d never be able to go back, never be the person he used to be. He’d also never forget the things he’d seen or experienced, but at least now he could cope. At least now he could function.

In all my years practicing psychiatry, I’ve seen it all. Most people wouldn’t believe some of the things I’ve experienced. They think I’ve got an easy mundane job, sitting behind a desk while people spill juicy secrets to me, but that’s not entirely the case. I’ve been hit and bitten and kicked and cursed at and spit on. I’ve seen some truly bizarre things; have had people tell me truly bizarre tales. I constantly have to sort through outrageous stories to try to find a hint of truth in them. It’s frustrating and infuriating and often it feels like it’s all for nothing. I once had a patient at a state hospital squirt ketchup on me and try to bite me because he was convinced I was a hot dog. I had a patient absolutely convinced their right pinky finger was possessed and bit it off. Some things can never be forgotten, no matter how much you may want to.

I remember when Isabella Swan was brought in, how utterly lifeless she was. She was brought to us by ambulance from Harborview Medical Center and had to be wheeled in on a stretcher because of her state of mind. They hadn’t done much of anything for her at Harborview, besides providing her nutrition since she wouldn’t eat and pumping her full of lorazepam. She had been detoxed off of the drugs for the most part but had some residual effects our rehab center dealt with. We kept up the lorazepam and started her on experimental doses of doses of benzodiazepines. Nothing was working so we added the sleep-aid Ambien on a hunch. Within 48-hours, she started showing responses. We were eventually able to wean her off of everything besides the Ambien.

The moment I met her it was clear she was troubled. She finally started talking and telling her story, filling in the gaps her medical records left off, and I was beginning to get an idea of where her problems lay. I thought I had her figured out, thought I understood Isabella Swan. Toward the end I truly believed I had hit upon her true problem, and although I believed until the very end that she did fear abandonment, I realized she had bigger problems. Isabella was more troubled than I could’ve ever imagined or I could’ve ever believed, because Isabella had experienced something I would’ve never understood.

If Isabella had been completely honest with me, I would’ve categorized her with the likes of Marianne. I remember once during a session I asked her if she knew what happened to Tyler, and if she knew how she’d escaped the truck in the accident. She spat off something about the supernatural, vampires or werewolves, and I scoffed. I thought she was being defiant, purposely being noncompliant. Little did I know, that was her most honest moment. But it wasn’t until now, as I stared into the eyes of evil, that I realized it.

It was the middle of the night and I was in the kitchen making a sandwich as a late-night snack when my doorbell rang. I groaned, throwing my sandwich down on the counter. I walked to the door slowly, dreading opening it. Usually the only people who came calling at this time were the police when a patient of mine was having problems or had gotten picked up.

I opened the door and furrowed my brow. A young man stood in front of the house, his back facing me. He was tall, maybe 6’2, and appeared to be slightly built. He had black hair slicked back on his head and was wearing jeans and a black shirt.

“Can I help you?” I asked hesitantly, the hairs on the back of my neck and arms standing up on end. I couldn’t even see his face but something about his posture and presence was alarming. He turned around slowly, his head cocked to the side as he eyed me. His skin was so pale it was nearly sickly white, his eyes so dark they were black. His features were sharp, making his face appear intimidating. He gazed at me for a moment, not speaking, before the corner of his lips turned up. His smirk was menacing, his gaze terrifying.

I opened my mouth to speak again, wanting to know what he wanted as I was slightly fearful. A part of me wanted to turn and run but the rational doctor inside of me was screaming that he was just a person and my fear of him was unfounded. But before I could utter any more words, his arm shot out and his hand wrapped around my neck. My eyes widened in surprise as my air supply was cut off. I sputtered, unable to breath and felt my chest constricting painfully, my lung screaming for air. He was smirking still and I tried to pull him off of me, tried to pry his fingers from my neck, but it was useless. He was strong, abnormally so. My vision went hazy and I started to black out as my body went limp.

I came to sometime later, a burning sensation deep within my chest. I opened my eyes slowly and glanced around, not recognizing my surroundings. The room was dark and damp and I blinked rapidly to try to clear my vision. It appeared almost completely vacant, a warehouse of some sort maybe. The ceiling was high up and there were windows toward the top, a few busted out. It was still dark outside, no light filtering in them. I could faintly make out the old florescent lights hanging from the ceiling. There were a few chairs scattered around.

I tried to move but felt resistance. I glanced down and my eyes widened in surprise. My ankles were tied to the legs of a chair, my arms behind my back. I was unable to move them, gathering that they were also tied to the chair. My breathing was labored, my breaths shallow. I tried to open my mouth but was unable to, something holding it shut so I couldn’t breath out of it. I imagined it was duct tape or something of the sort as it was tight on my skin.

I sat there for a few minutes, trying to wiggle free but it was useless. I was tied tightly, so tight my circulation was being cut off. My hands and feet were tingling painfully. Panic and fear were consuming me, causing my breathing to be even more labored. I had no idea where I was or what was going on, but it was bad—very bad.

Some time later a loud noise rang out, the sound of metal banging. My heart started racing fast, thumping hard in my chest. I glanced around frantically, trying to find the source of the noise but everywhere I looked was nothing but darkness. I felt the hair on the back of my neck standing again, my fear tripling. I got the sense that I was being watched; although I couldn’t see anyone, I could sense their presence.

Time passed torturously slow. My fear drove me into a panic attack, my breathing out of control, my chest hurting. I was exhausted but I forced my eyes to stay open, forced myself to remain alert. Eventually the room started to lighten some as dawn approached outside. Things were coming slightly into focus and I could tell where ever I was had been abandoned a long time ago. There was a thick coat of dust on everything, the walls mildewed and everything rusted out.

A door opened without notice across the room, startling me. My head snapped in that direction and my brow furrowed in confusion as a woman walked in. She had bright curly red hair, almost shockingly bright. Her clothing was slightly disheveled, worn and wrinkled, but she appeared clean and composed so I doubted she was homeless or a drug addict. I noticed she was barefoot immediately as she started walking in my direction. The sun was filtering in the windows now, casting bright streaks of light into the room. She walked along the side in the shadows, her steps almost bounce-like.

Her eyes met mine and another surge of fear rocked through me. Her eyes were a deep red, almost burgundy. It was unnatural and immoral looking. She stopped in front of me and her lips curved into a wicked smile. There was something off about her, something truly evil. I’d met my share of unstable and troubled people in my life, but the woman in front of me took the cake. There was something truly evil about her, it was written all over her face.

“Thank you, Kevin,” she said, her voice high-pitched and her eyes drifting upwards as she looked past me. I furrowed my brow with confusion, not understand who Kevin was, when another voice rang out from directly behind me. I jumped, startled, causing my binds to dig into my flesh.

“Anything for you, Victoria,” the male voice said, his voice full of obedience and devotion.

The woman’s smile grew and her attention focused back on me.

“I can smell your fear,” she said. “It seeps out of your pours. James always loved the fearful ones, loved it when they knew what was coming. It amplifies the taste, it’s nearly erotic.”

I stared at her questioningly, utterly confused. She wasn’t making any sense but at the same time her words had a threatening nature to them. It was unnerving. She stepped forward a few steps more and reached her arm out. Her hand was as cold as ice and a shiver shot through me. I felt her rough jagged fingernail dig into my skin as she grasped the duct tape over my mouth. She pulled it quickly, ripping it off of me and pulling my facial hair in the process. Tears formed in my eyes immediately as the pain ripped through my face. I screamed out but she just tossed the tape to the ground, still smiling.

“Who’s James?” I asked, confused, trying to make sense of things. Her smile fell and her eyes narrowed at me, and I immediately regretted my question.

“You don’t know?!” she asked sharply, cocking at eyebrow at me. I shook my head no hesitantly. She made a shrill noise, something between a bitter laugh and a scoff.

“So the girl didn’t tell you that her mate is a murderer? That he destroyed my James because of that little pet of his?” she asked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, there has to be some mistake here. I don’t know you, I have no idea what’s going on,” I said, shaking my head. She wasn’t making any sense; I had no idea what I was doing here. “If it’s money you want, I have a good bit saved up in an account, you can have it if you just let me go. I swear I won’t say a word about this…”

“I don’t want money,” she yelled, her glare menacing. Her features clouded with anger, the red of her eyes morphing into black. “What I want is Isabella Swan.”

My eyes widened in surprise. “Isabella?” I asked with disbelief.

“Yes! I want that repulsive little bitch dead; I want to tear her apart. And I want that boyfriend of hers to know, I want him to feel what I felt when he took James from me.” She stared at me expectantly but I was shocked, confused. I had no idea what she wanted from me, why she would want Isabella dead and what Edward had to do with it.

“Why Isabella?” I asked.

She narrowed her eyes even more. “Have you not be listening? Her boyfriend murdered my mate because of her, because he had some sick obsession with that human pet of his. And they’ll both pay for that.”

“Edward killed your husband because of Isabella?” As I said the words a conversation I once had with Isabella struck me. We’d been talking about Edward and she admitted that when she got hurt in Phoenix it happened because a man had been after her, but Edward had saved her from him. She’d been hesitant to admit that at first—could this be why? Had Edward killed the man?

“YES!” she spat.

“What do you want from me? I mean, I barely know them, she never told me anything that could help you,” I said, not knowing if it was a lie or not. Isabella had confessed a bit to me but I didn’t know what it was this obviously deranged woman was after.

“I don’t need your help,” she said, her smile returning. “I’ll get her just fine on my own. I’ve read her files anyway, they were useless.”

“Why am I here then?” I asked with confusion, not understanding why I’d been taken, why I was being held. She laughed, the sound of it sending goose bumps across my skin.

“All a part of the game,” she said with a shrug. “I figured Isabella wouldn’t be too pleased to know she’d caused another innocent person to die just because they were unfortunate enough to know her. Don’t you agree?”

I suddenly felt sick upon her words. She planned to kill me to torment Isabella. Isabella couldn’t get past the fact that she cost her classmates their lives; it tortured her every minute of every day. This deranged woman was going to murder me as part of some sick game to destroy Isabella.

I couldn’t stop the immense horror that rocked through me. I leaned my head over quickly as the bile rose up and I vomited all over the floor. The woman groaned loudly.

“Please don’t kill me. You can’t. You’ll get caught, there’s no way you’ll get away with this. Just let me go, I swear I won’t tell anyone. There has to be another way. Maybe you can go to the police, tell them what happened to James. But this is wrong, you can’t kill people like this!” I said frantically, panicking.

She laughed loudly, startling me. I looked at her incredulously. Why was she laughing? Nothing about this was funny. She was sick, demented. She looked like she was enjoying this.

“Don’t worry about me, I won’t get caught,” she said confidently.

“How can you be sure? You’ll leave evidence behind, fingerprints, DNA. It’s not worth it.”

She shook her head. “My kind doesn’t leave evidence,” she said with a shrug

“Your kind?” I asked.

“You really are clueless, aren’t you? You humans are so ignorant.” She glanced around, appearing to be contemplating something. Her smile grew and she turned to wink at me. She took a few steps sideways, into the beam of sunlight coming in the window. I gasped in surprise, my eyes widening in shock. Her skin was shining, glittering where the sunlight hit it. It wasn’t exactly frightening but definitely unnerving, unnatural. There was something wrong about it, something wrong with her.

“Your skin,” I said with shock. “What’s wrong with you? Do you have some kind of disease?” I’d been to medical school and had never heard of anything that could cause it; it just didn’t make any sense.

She smiled widely, exposing her teeth. They were sharp, razor sharp. My heart started thumping loudly and I started feeling sick again. She looked almost like an animal, inhuman. She crouched down slightly, hunching over and I heard a growl coming from her. I was frozen in fear, horrified. All of a sudden she moved and it was like a blur as she disappeared. She reappeared a second later halfway across the room. She blurred again and another second later she was right in front of me. I screamed, startled.

She laughed again. “James would’ve definitely had fun with you.”

“What the hell are you?!” I nearly yelled as I started to hyperventilate. This couldn’t be real, this didn’t make any sense. This was impossible, unnatural. I had to be asleep, this had to be a nightmare.

She sighed. “I guess no harm in telling you, considering you’re going to die anyway,” she said with a shrug. “But I am slightly surprised Isabella never told you her beloved Edward was a vampire.”

That was when it all came together. When I stared into those evil eyes and realized exactly how troubled Isabella Swan was. Exactly what she’d gotten herself mixed up in. She’d breathed that word to me twice, telling me that vampires had saved her from the accident. That she suspected vampires had done something to Tyler. I scoffed but she had meant it. I’d never believed such things; I was a man of science. Vampires were mythical; it was impossible for such creatures to exist. They’d have been discovered, proven by science if they lived. But I couldn’t deny the evidence in front of me. Couldn’t deny the red hair woman’s inhumanness, her razor sharp teeth and the instinct to run I felt the moment I looked at her.

Edward had appeared normal enough, with his polite disposition. His eyes hadn’t been red but they had been an unnatural almost butterscotch color. I couldn’t deny that I had felt a slight fear in his presence also, something instinctual. Something inside of me had told me that he was dangerous.

I sat in shock, trying to absorb it all. Everything I’d ever believed came crashing down. If vampires existed, what else existed? Isabella had mentioned Werewolves—were they also real? I automatically started questioning other things—what else had I disregarded as nonsense that in fact had been true? How many people had I deemed crazy for the outrageous stories they came up with had actually been right? If vampires could exist in this world and we are completely oblivious to them, is it so far fetched to believe that other supernatural beings could exist? Aliens? Ghosts? Psychics? Mind readers?

Were the schizophrenics really that crazy, or were the rest of us just naïve?

It’s sad that my revelation came at the end, when there was nothing I could do with the information. It rocked me to the core, changing my entire perspective of the world. But my time was up; I was at the end of my line. I didn’t see it coming, was given no advanced warning. A sudden burning pain, worse than anything I’d ever felt, shot through the back of my neck. My body went limp almost instantly before everything went black.

The last thought to go through my head before death took me was that I hoped Isabella escaped this fate. I hoped someone could save her.