Story Info: QuilxBellaxJacob, AU, OOC - This story is rated NC-17 for mature dark themes. **CONTENT WARNING:** This story contains themes of an adult nature that reference to graphic violence, substance abuse, physical abuse, strong language, explicit sex, suicide and death. Some chapters may not be suitable for all readers and may be of a disturbing nature.

A/N: Imprinting does not exist in my story because I think it just makes things too easy. The main characters are twenty-years-old. I have an original character by the name of Brian; I picture him to look like Paul Walker. Another original character I have is named Johanna, I picture her to look like Mary Elizabeth Winstead.

My story is also posted at LemonJuicy - http(:)/www(.)lemonjuicy(.)com/my-body-is-a-cage/ & Jacob Black ~N~Pack - http(:)/jacobblack-n-pack(.)ning(.)com/group/mybodyisacage

Prologue – Vermilion

Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day. To the last syllable of recorded time, And all our yesterdays have lighted fools, The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more: it is a tale, Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing.

~ William Shakespeare's Macbeth

B.P.O.V.

The tiny square piece of paper on my tongue dissolves instantly at the contact. My tongue recedes back into my mouth, closing my eyes; I wait for the euphoric sensations to take effect.

I slowly open my eyes as Brian places in my palm another blotter. He slowly elongates his tongue, inviting the golden dragon to emit its fire into his mouth.

I grab the microdot between my thumb and forefinger bringing it up to my face to take a glance at it. It is imprinted with the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland, how ironic.

I smirk.

I place the paper acid in the middle of his tongue gently. He pulls in his tongue savoring the now liquid paper. We both sit in the center of the bed reveling in the sublime experience.

The colors around me radiate and become deeply intense, I am almost able to hear them. The objects that surround me start taking on bizarre and wonderful new rippling shapes; almost appearing as they are….breathing. I close my eyes and the colored patterns behind my eyelids form. The altered sense of time seems to be stretching, speeding and stopping all at the same time.

Rough hands cup my face and a set of lips press against mine. I part my mouth as I allow our tongues to intertwine, our lips locking into a fervent kiss; absorbing each other's addiction.

My arms lift and wrap around the nape of his neck fisting his hair. His hands lower to my waist. My body's sensitivity heightens as I marvel at the touch of hands all over me. I can't tell where my body starts or ends next to his.

I 'm lying on my back; the experience is bliss under the high as the sensations vibrate throughout the atmosphere.

I gasp as the pressure intensifies ten-fold at the penetration when he enters me. My eyes are heavy lidded as my perception hits an unwavering eccentricity. I feel electric and tingly all over. I'm experiencing an alternate reality, a new dimension, new ways of seeing and feeling.

I have the power to radically change my consciousness and the world around me. I close my eyes as I let my body be used by this man. I picture myself anywhere other than here.

This is my alternate reality to escape the tortured reality I live in.

I move my head back and forth trying to dispel the painful thoughts that magnify by the thousands.

His body sways above me in slow rhythmic motions. I feel every part of him move against me. I open my eyes slightly; my body floats into the universe. His body pulses with a glowing ember as the colors around the room echo off the walls with his every thrust.

I close my eyes again; my mind a cloudy mess as the kaleidoscope of colors appears once more behind my lids.

It takes an eternity for him to finish. He pumps in and out of me one last time until finally pushing himself off and collapsing next to me.

I lay with the immense emptiness filling my subsistence. The water in my eyes wells over; tears trickle from the corner of my eyes, rolling down the sides of my temple and into my ear. It's moist and hot. I try swallowing around the lump forming in my throat.

This is my life now. Alone, abused and used.

I drag myself off the bed; the fabrics under my palms prickle my skin. My senses are confused and distorted.

I sit on the floor in nothing but my underwear in this run down, cheap, and dingy motel. My arms wrap around my legs and my body slumps against the bed.

How did my life end up pathetically here?

I glance over at the table. The lines of cocaine are ready for me on the small mirror set on the coffee table before me. Drug paraphernalia is strewn across the table.

The drugs are never-ending, always vastly available.

Reminiscing about the past only makes me more comatose to the present. I spiraled into a deep depression after Edw – he left. After two fucking years I still can't bring myself to even think his name, let alone say it aloud. He didn't want me. He threw me away like a piece of garbage.

The world of mythical creatures is my past. Even now, the clandestine existence of vampires and werewolves is surreal. I would be institutionalized if I ever utter a word about them. Especially in the state I'm in, I'm not the most stabilized person in the world at the moment.

I left Forks six months after my eighteenth birthday. I haven't looked back ever since.

Now at twenty, here I am wasting away my shitty life on anything and everything to numb the pain.

'You're not good for me, Bella.'

I couldn't deal with the fact that he no longer wanted me. I tried to live without him during those six months after he picked up with his whole family and abruptly disappeared from my life. Every time I tried to exist was futile because I was still devastated by his loss.

'I promise that this will be the last time you'll see me. I won't come back. I won't put you through anything like this again. You can go on with your life without any more interference from me. It will be as if I'd never existed.'

But he's there, always lurking in the back of my mind; waiting to pounce on my fragile state of sanity.

Feelings of rejection flood me as his words repeat in my head like a fucking broken record. And he did exist, for only a mere moment, but I know he is real.

I bring my left hand to cover the silvery crescent scar on my right arm that is the physical proof he exists.

He should have just let the venom burn deep inside of me because that pain was one hundred times better than the agony I suffer from today. My heart decays each day that passes.

What we shared had to be real. What he is putting me through now though is worse than the venom I was almost incinerated with.

'Don't worry. You're human—your memory is no more than a sieve. Time heals all wounds for your kind.'

The words echo through my entire body, over and over and over. How could he think I would just forget my first love? Was it love? Or was it just some sort of sick fucking sadistic fascination I he had with me? He spat his pity on my soul; he should have saved his unnecessary breath because all he did was sell me out to save himself.

I wasn't able to handle the nightmares; I couldn't bear the searing pain the hole in my chest burns with.

I wasn't able to stand living in Forks any longer.

After constantly fighting with Charlie over my state of mind and secluding myself from the outside world, I decided I would be better off in a different place. That's when I moved to Jacksonville with Renée. I thought moving across the country would stop my inner demons from tormenting me.

Forks is a place I never want to return to. It's laced with the toxicity of bad memories.

I miss Charlie though. I regret not being the daughter he wanted. It sickens me what I put him through. He deserved a better life; the only way possible for that to happen is with me out of the picture. He tried to convince me to stay.

I left my best friend, the only person who could make me feel better. But for my own selfish reasons, I didn't care what his feelings were when I departed. I knew he was angry with me for running away. He was angry at him for killing me internally.

I miss Jacob so much. I long for those strong warm arms to encompass me, protecting me. Everything in our friendship was real. He made me feel loved and wanted. I rejected him for that piece of shit that ended up abandoning me. There's no way that Jacob could still want me after the stupid decisions I've made.

It hurt me immensely when he stood at my door on that rainy, gloomy day. He begged me not to leave for his sake but this was something I had to do for myself, whether it was good for me or not.

A tiny piece of my withered heart will always stay with Jacob. It's the only thing I was able to offer him.

Living in Jacksonville with Renée started out fine. I attended the local community college and did the normal eighteen-year-old thing for the first six months. I made new friends, went to parties in the dorms and had my first sexual experience.

I never thought my first time would be in a cramped up dorm room on a squeaky, small uncomfortable bed during a party. I always thought it would be something special I would share with someone I loved and who would love me back. Not some one-night stand in a drunken stupor. I had been drinking heavily. That night I also tried the first of many drugs I willingly accept now.

My life went out of control soon after. I thought I was doing fine within the first year but deep down inside I still felt vapid. It's not the real me who lives inside anymore. It's the shell of me that walks and talks to the outside world.

I'm desperate to not feel anything. My despair consumes me stronger each day I exist. My personal relationship with my mother is strained for many reasons. She knew I was heading down a path of destruction; her Bella always made the right choices.

Her beliefs were demolished when I would come home high or drunk. She hated the person I became. This fights constantly ensued between us.

I glance over my shoulder at the form passed out on the bed.

I met Brian at a party. He introduced me into this world I now know. He was clean-cut and very ruggedly handsome when I first met him. His sandy blond hair and piercing blue eyes hypnotized me. His stature stood at six feet and he was of medium build with a Florida tan. The person he turned out to be wasn't what I expected.

I allow my body to be used by him. I'm not in love and I don't think he loves me. The only reason I started some sort of a relationship with him is because I thought he would help me forget about him. Brian would make me forget what could have been with Jacob.

We dated but never put a label on what is was we were doing. Everything changed when I found out he made a living dealing drugs on the streets of Northside Jacksonville.

I always wondered where all the money came from since he never did work. We were constantly at each other's side.

To escape the internal suffering I would beg him to let me try whatever drugs he had on hand. He refused at first but when I would refuse to give into his need, Brian ultimately would agree to give me what I wanted.

Every night was a party at his place. We got wasted and took part in orgies while on mind-altering substances. Every now and then we would be oblivious to the world by going on drug and alcohol binges, locking ourselves in a motel room, feeding off each other's addiction.

Renée forbade me to see him when my grades started to slip. I eventually dropped out of college. I was never home and we were constantly at each other's throats. I refused to let her dictate my life like he tried to.

I moved away from Jacksonville with Brian. We wanted to be free and live our lives as we pleased with no one in the way. The only scene where it was alive at night, filled with excitement, was none other than Miami.

Miami is a five hour drive from Jacksonville; it wasn't too much of a distance between Renée and me. I left her my P.O. Box address where she would be able to contact me if she needed to.

I needed to start living my own life and enjoy it since I had nothing else to lose. My life was miserable even before I started in this shit.

Brian and I continued to live our lives out in a party every night. He is the only person I have left; the only human being who understands my pain.

He was physically abused as a child. His father abandoned him after his mother died of cancer when he was fourteen-years-old. We find solace in each other. Whether it's for sex, drugs or just the companionship of another person; I don't care which way he would want me, at least I was wanted.

I didn't need to keep any type of mythical secret of his either, the only secret I do keep is the drug dealing but that is by far much easier to keep silent than what I never speak about regarding my life back in Forks.

Our relationship changed drastically the night he physically hurt me. I was high on ecstasy that night. Some guy had come on to me at a club we were at and apparently he kissed me. Brian caught sight of what was going on and he was furious because I apparently liked the attention that was being given to me.

Brian dragged me out of the club and we sped home. Once we arrived at our place, he pulled me inside to the bedroom and his fist met my face. I was stunned; I didn't know what the hell had happened. That night he fucked me like the whore I was, as he put it. I have no memory of what transpired but the bruising on my face and body along with his explanation only made me aware.

I'd been determined to leave him but I thought I was deserving of this punishment for everything I put my family and friends through, for making him leave. So I stayed. I've taken every beating he's inflicted on me.

I lean forward and grab the tequila bottle off the table and take a swig straight from the bottle. The warm, fiery liquid burns as it glides down my esophagus when I swallow.

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and place the bottle back on the table.

Why can't I be a different person? Why did the higher being choose me to know of the mythical creatures that haunt my every thought? I'm worthless. I'm hopeless. What's the point of living?

I'm tired of the life I live. Running away from everyone and everything and refusing to be helped in any way.

I extend my arm picking up the rolled up dollar bill in my hand. I tap it against the table a few times.

His face haunts my dreams. My night terrors always have him leaving me to die in the fantasy of the meadow that I once thought was beautiful and ours.

The vision when I'm there with him has a gorgeous sea of fuchsia, crème and violet wild flowers. The green forest trees flow through the wispy air as their leaves breathe life into the woods and the lush green pastures are heaven to lie on while next to him. His hard marble skin glimmers magnificently in the bright sun. I can envision that sweet cool kiss he gifts me with…

The vision shatters as I shake my head furiously. Why can't I get rid of these fucking notions that circulated in my mind! I elude that he really loved me but in fact he didn't. I'm nothing to him. Why does he still have to be here when he's been long gone!

His secrets are buried in my skin and I can't wash them away even if I try. The air that surrounds me feels like a cage that I can't escape. My love for him now is just a camouflage for all the rage and hatred I hold inside. My devil makes me dream like no other mortal is capable of dreaming. The piercing screams of when I awake from these night terrors linger in the darkness as I lay trembling awake.

I have nothing left in my heart for me to care. I can't destroy something that isn't there anymore. He took my laughter, happiness, my smile. What flows inside me grows empty now.

I stand on my knees leaning closer to the table. I place the rolled up dollar bill above one of the lines lowering my nose to it.

It's always the initial step that's hard: finally giving into the drugs. This is what I need to escape reality. This makes me alive in a way when I'm sober I can't feel. I need the death of hope to let him go.

I press my finger against my other nostril, closing it I snort one line quickly. I feel the absorption of the powdery substance through my nasal membrane and swallow the after drip that's collected. I rub my nose fervently with my hand.

Leaning down again, I snort two more lines. My eyes roll back into my head.

The rolled up paraphernalia drops from my hand. I bring my fingers to touch my nose.

I stumble to the side of the bed. The burning sensation creeps up my nose. I clench my eyes shut and shake my head.

I lay my head against the bed. My arms are limp at my sides.

Nobody ever came looking for me. It's not like I want them to but the thought of someone doing so made me feel as if someone would care.

Jacob hasn't tried contacting me either. He was my best friend. Maybe he doesn't even know where I am? No. Charlie has Renée's number and she knows where I stay. He probably doesn't want anything to do with me anymore. I'm pathetic. I'm weak. He has put up with enough of my shit while I was with him. I don't blame Jacob if he wants nothing to do with me.

Tears begin to sting my eyes. I cover my face with my hands as the sobs erupt from me.

My life is fading before me. My life is nothing but a lie. I'm broken inside and I can't be fixed.

Why did he have to come into my life? He promised to never leave me. Those golden eyes haunt me even when I'm awake. Why doesn't he come save me from myself right now that I need it most?

The cocaine overtakes me. My body trembles feeling the substance course through my nervous system. The euphoria takes effect when the numbing fills my being.

I've been using for the past year and every time the high becomes better. The addiction is difficult to resist. I need it to get through each day.

I bring my hands to clutch the sides of my head.

My blood starts pumping harder and faster through my constricted veins. My pupils dilate as I become alert of my surroundings. My heart thuds erratically against my chest and my skin flushes as my temperature begins to rise. I wipe the beads of sweat off my forehead.

'Bella, please – why are you doing this to yourself?'

No, it can't be…I'm paranoid now. It isn't his melodic voice I heard around me. I cover my ears and shut my eyes tightly. I shake my head vehemently. No, no, no—fucking NO!

"Why now? Why fucking now!" I scream. "After two fucking years you disappear and now you want to try and rescue me!"

I know becoming dependent on the drugs will enable a greater chance of hallucinations. "Yes, I'm just hallucinating now. Fucking great! I'm going insane and talking to myself."

'Bella love, please stop this.'

"What the fuck do you want with me now? Why now!" I sob. "Just leave me the hell alone, please," I beg breathlessly.

The combination of the acid and blow gives me horrible paranoia. I need to get rid of his voice. He's in my head and I can't stop it. I can't decipher reality from fantasy anymore.

Even though I want to be saved, the pain at hearing his melodic sweet voice just pierces the dagger through my heart, twisting and turning the blade as it shreds every last piece that's left.

"You didn't want me! You left me, so just leave me alone!" I scream into the emptiness of the room.

"Your vanity served you well, now look at me; the despicable fascination I have with you," I whisper angrily.

Brian still lay passed out on the bed.

'I'm so sorry, Bella.'

"I don't want to fucking hear it! I don't want to hear your voice! Just let me drown in my misery and go away!" Clenching my first I bring them to the front of my mouth. I close my eyes.

I'm having a bad trip to the coke and acid. This is the only explanation. What I heard is the manifestation of all the thoughts stirring in my head which are consumed by him.

This isn't happening.I keep repeating to myself. I'm losing my mind now. I have to stop with these fucking drugs; they are fucking with my emotions and now my hearing.

I open my eyes. I glance up and see the ghostly figure of him standing before me. I gasp in agony clutching my mid-section. My body shudders and the tears continue to stream down my cheeks.

"No. NO! You're not real! You're not fucking real!" I scream hysterically.

I stand and run towards the figure trying to hit it with my fists. The phantom disintegrates when my hand makes contact with it.

I'm delusional. Why is this happening?

I run into the bathroom. Turning on the cold water, I splash it on my face.

I peer with my blurred vision at the reflection in the mirror. Staring at myself I'm paralyzed, frozen inside. My eyes are bloodshot. I'm deathly pale and my frail skin is sunken around my eyes. My cheek bones protrude from my face. I'm rail thin and my hair is a knotted, ratty mess. The redness on my nose is evident from the insufflations of the cocaine. My face shines with red splotches from crying.

I'm just another sickly strung out junkie.

What's become of the pretty girl with the chocolate brown eyes and long chestnut locks?

She no longer exists. I'm now a shell without a soul since he went away.

I'm enraged at the reflection before me. I pull my right fist back and strike the mirror with such force the glass shatters to pieces. The broken bits of glass fall to the floor.

My knuckles sting instantaneously.

I yelp in pain holding my hand against my chest. The red ooze flows freely from the damage I inflicted to myself. My nostrils flare with disgust. The irony metallic smell of the substance almost makes me heave.

I scurry to the closet and grab a towel. I wrap it around my hand. The rag holds a maximum vacancy. The thick red liquid seeps through the material.

He always causes the pain, emotionally and now physically. I can't escape it as much as I want to. I want to let go of him. My mind is made up but my heart won't allow it. He is dragging me down and I can't pull away.

I leave the bathroom in a daze. The previous adrenaline rush that took over my body indicates the drugs are still pumping through my system.

I gaze around the room. It's cold and empty. The only presence in the room is the pale moon light glowing through the window curtains. Brian still lay almost lifeless on the bed.

My eyes stop at the object resting on the nightstand.

Brian always carries a gun.

I walk over and pick up the 9mm handgun. I stare at it for a long moment holding it in my shaking palm.

This is the only way to stop everything from hurting. No one will even notice I'm gone. He decided to make an appearance tonight. Whether it's the hallucination of my psyche? I'm not sure.

I drop the bloodied towel from my other hand.

I skim the hard contours of steel with my fingers. This one little piece of metal can take away the violent torment my life spiraled into.

I grip the gun firmly in both hands. The blood on my right hand has semi-dried on my knuckles.

How difficult would it be to end it all right now? In my hand is my solution to all the suffering I have endured for the past two years.

There is no higher being. Otherwise he or she, whatever it is, wouldn't allow my life to get this fucked up and twisted. I'm already falling into the pit of death without anyone to pull me out. I'm held together with just crippled bandages that are dangerously falling apart.

I lost my own human identity and have almost become an animal stuck between the passions of the flesh and the instincts of the mind; from being a prisoner of self to the illusion of freedom through meaningless acts, hollow, empty, and pointless; absolute vanity, not in beauty but in existence. Yearning to be free with the shrieks of insanity yet not knowing that no one and nothing is enslaving me.

Nostalgia flits through me remembering Charlie, Renée, Jacob and everyone else I'll leave behind. The sudden realization of never seeing them again hits me.

They're all probably better off without me.

The shattered pieces of my world are ones I can't pick up. Death is more complacent than the life I live now.

It'll be another suicide of some poor, depressed, pathetic little girl who has everything she needs in her life but ungrateful of the people who love her. Just another fucking statistic in the record books.

Sniffling and sighing heavily, I cock the hammer with my thumb. I hear the gun ready to engage.

I collapse to my knees. My skin burns against the carpeted floor. I turn the gun around to face me. The sadistic pleasure rises within me as I stare at the barrel before me.

This is it. All the pain and agony that I succumb to will end tonight.

I raise my trembling hands with the gun and place it in my mouth. The bitter taste of the cold metal penetrates my tongue; my teeth clank against the briny metal surface.

I feel so alive, right at this moment. Exceedingly alive than I have ever felt in the last two years.

The flourishing hot tears roll down my face. The sobs begin to wrack my entire body. I clench my eyes shut. My thumb rests on the cold curve of the trigger.

I inhale one last lung full of air before I work up the courage to finally squeeze it all the way down.

My lips tremble. "I'm so sorry," I softly whisper to the emptiness that surrounds me.

Click.