The asylum loomed in front of me, dark, foreboding, and dilapidated. The moonlight illuminated the silhouettes of bars lining every window along the front except for the main entrance. Most of the glass in the windows had fallen victim to time, or more likely, vandalism since most of the glass in each pane was missing. The grass and weeds came up chest high, a sidewalk barely visible amongst the brush. It was easy to see where half of the roof and surrounding walls had crumbled from the fire that forced the doors to close all those years ago. The gates rusty hinges creaked shrilly in protest as I shoved it open, the noise mixing unpleasantly with the constant hum of cicadas and mosquitos. I hesitated then, a heavy feeling settling in my stomach, guilt, perhaps? Regret? I couldn't tell anymore.

A heavy hand on my shoulder gave a reassuring squeeze and I glanced back smiling softly into the deep brown eyes of my oldest friend. The exact same ones I've been staring at for the past 76 years, unchanging with the passage of time. "Bella, we don't have to be here, if you aren't ready." Said Jacob, his gruff voice uncertain. My golden eyes flickered to the ground once, and back up to the asylum. "It's been almost a century Jake, it… its time. I need to know what happened." I shook my head, ground my teeth and shoved my way through the underbrush. I had to know. The building was abandoned, I know because we've been watching it for days now. Not even a groundskeeper, obviously given the appearance of the place.

The door knob was missing, so it was easy enough to slip inside. Jake flipped on his flashlight, more for his benefit than mine, and we followed the faded signs on the walls down to the basement floor where they kept the records of previous patients. The smell of dust and faint hint of smoke that invaded my nose when we first entered was replaces by the smell of damp rot and decay. Mildew crept up the walls and random puddles of water covered the floors. I prayed silently that the records were still in tact and safe from the weather.

The only sounds to be heard was the faint dripping of water, the skittering of mice fleeing quickly, and Jakes near silent breathing. We found a door, at last, labeled 'RECORDS' in big bold letters several floors down from where we started. The door was locked, not surprisingly, so with a shove I broke the door down easily. The room was dry and full of dust, untouched by the fire. I breathed a sigh of relief. Large bookshelf-like cases lined the walls, each shelf labeled A-Z. I scanned the shelves, finding the one labeled 'B' and started pulling out files. Within 5 minutes I found the file I was looking for, 'Mary Alice Brandon' written in block letters across the top. Jacob appeared over my shoulder waiting with bated breath as I opened it slowly.

A photo caught my eyes first and I felt my dead heart clench painfully. "Oh, Mary Alice, they took your hair." I whispered my voice husky with emotion. I traced the outline of the photograph with my finger. The girl gazed at the camera dead on, looking gaunt with dead eyes in black and white. A startling difference between the memories I had of her that danced around the edges of my mind, taunting me, like they had for a century. Long gone was beautiful girl with the long flowing locks of jet-black hair and a seductive, yet innocent smile playing on her lips. This Mary Alice looked half dead, and utterly defeated. Her sloppily cropped short hair in complete disarray. The photo was grainy, but my eyes easily picked up the bags under her eyes and the slight concave look of her cheeks. My stomach churned uneasily, and my chest tugged painfully.

I moved the picture aside, Jake now rubbing calming circles on my lower back as he read over the paper work with me. The file was roughly half an inch thick, each session with a doctor was carefully detailed in cursive writing. We read on in horror learning about the intensive shock therapy sessions, about her visions, or 'delusions' as they were called. Finally, we reached a page, the third to last page, where we read about plans for a lobotomy. I wished I could throw up. The second to last page in the file, was what made me freeze.

'Patient escaped Tuesday evening, 03/09/1920 with the help of Dr. Thorne, neither have been found. The search by police and hospital staff has been suspended indefinitely. They are both assumed deceased.'

The very last page was a death certificate, only partially filled out. My eyes filled with tears I could never shed. I snapped the file shut, turning into Jakes waiting embrace. Unrelenting and painful dry sobs echoed around the empty building. The steady beat of Jacobs heart the only thing keeping me grounded in this moment. We stood there for several minutes just embracing while I cried out decades of pain. The sobs lessened and I steeled myself, pulling away to look at the concerned eyes of my oldest and dearest companion. He cupped my cheek and gave my forehead a brotherly kiss. He took the file from me, placing it in my back pack. I gave him a half-hearted smile and silently we started our way back up the stairs at a human pace.

Once we were back outside. I cast one last bitter look at the asylum that ruined my Mary Alice, before we trudged outside the gates, walking towards the car. I climbed in the driver's side of my old truck and tossed my backpack on the seat. I turned to Jake, pursing my lips. He raised an eyebrow at me. There was only one place I wanted to be now. "Jake, can we visit home for a while?" He tensed locking his eyes with mine. "Bells you know im not welcome there. Sam-"

"-is dead. Leah called last night while you were asleep to inform me that, as the new alpha, she lifted your exile. We can come back to stay she said." His face betrayed his surprise. "Is Raina still there? And Rachael?" he asked, and I nodded smiling at his excitement. "They're still alive and well Jake, they just didn't want Alpha." He grinned. "It's been like 75 years Bella, lets go, I'm ready to go home." I grinned, shoving my pain aside for the moment, ready to go home. I started the truck. Well, tried to. It sputtered and died out. I tried several more times, to no avail. "Fuck" I whispered to myself. "Well, are you up for a race old man? I bet I can beat you there" he snorted. "Sure, sure. Last one there has to dust the house." He swung his door open and leapt out, shifting mid air. I grabbed our shared backpack containing the file, our bank cards, several fake ID'S, and cash, and our spare clothes chasing after him, leaving our old truck and the haunting asylum behind us, excited at the prospect of being home for the first time in of a century.