Author's Note:

So quick, I know! I'm pretty good about this kind of stuff, I suppose. But now that I have time to myself (well, more than I had before, at least), I can update this a bit more often.

So...once again, this is the fourth book to my An Unyielding, Horrifying Love series, or my AUHL series. The first book is, well, An Unyielding, Horrifying Love, the second Pain of An Eighth Grade Genius, the third Wounded. I have a side story going called Red Rain, and the only things you really need for that story is the knowledge of who Amy, Domonick, Stan, and Eloïse are, and maybe Aryanna and James and Mrs. Meyes and Mr. Bronsky and Cameron...okay, you need to read the other stories AND my side story because as I write, I imply you've read the other books and therefore you should know whom my OCs are. Other than that, it's the team.

So I strongly suggest reading the rest of the series if you haven't already. :-D

Thank you for your continued support, and now allow me to get to the story!

Oh! Quick note: You will realize there are going to be extreme changes in dates and times and locations. Keep an eye on those. They're really important, believe it or not.

Friday, March 30th, 2012 9:56 AM
Amy and Domonick's Apartment, Quantico, VA

Amy Nickhoales smiled as Eloïse talked on about her wedding plans. She and Dr. Spencer Reid were getting married in less than two months, and the designer was intent on making herself the perfect dress to wear, as well as designing the perfect bridesmaid and maid of honor gowns. Amy had told her friend not to bother with making her a fancy dress - it wouldn't show very nicely with her in a wheelchair and all - but Eloïse insisted Amy have one of the best gowns she could design.

The wheelchair. That was Amy's biggest hinderance. Ever since she was shot one month, sixteen days, and approximately nine hours ago by her former dance instructor Stan Fields after he murdered almost everyone she knew (including staging his own abduction), she had been paralyzed, sterile, and under the fear associated with having PTSD. The gunshot wounds were healing well, which was the sole reason she had been released twenty eight days and five hours ago...precisely.

Stan Fields. Gunshot wounds. PTSD. Murder. Paralysis. Sterility.
Pure pain. Pure trauma. Pure inspiration.

She had been singing a little, playing piano, viola, and guitar publicly, and even speaking on TV and in front of schools. She was known now by almost everyone, and those that knew her knew some detail about her story. Actually, no one knew precise details about her treatment besides Stan and herself. Well, only herself, really, considering Stan was dead. Not even the FBI agents that interviewed her asked for too much detail, taking whatever she'd tell them and what was written in her journal and leaving it at that. She knew they were doing their job when they asked her for things she wasn't all too comfortable talking about (the first time Stan raped her, the times he got mad enough for them to have singing arguments, the time he hit her, the day Reid had arrived, other times Stan had raped her, et cetera), but she was relieved when they asked her not to go into...certain details. At least they seemed to care that she was uncomfortable with these topics.

Stan. Rape. Murder. Who would have thought that Stan, the 52-year-old man who acted more like her father than just a family friend, would have turned out to be a pedophile who had an extreme unyielding, horrifying love for Amy? Who would have thought he'd turn into a murderer when his sexual desires grew too great for him to push away, murdering his own friends and students at the dance studio? None of this added up to make the man who would do anything to help anyone, who had taken her mom out on friendly dates, who had been there at Domonick's graduation, who had been almost considered an adopted member of the family? How could he turn on them and become a monster?

"In every man's heart there is a devil, but we do not know the man as bad until the devil is roused," said James Oliver Curwood. Amy had come to believe he was right. However the devil inside Stan was aroused, Amy figured she'd never know, but she knew it had to do with her somehow.

"The small man thinks that small acts of goodness are of no benefit, and does not do them; and that small deeds of evil do no harm, and does not refrain from them. Hence, his wickedness becomes so great that it cannot be concealed, and his guilt so great that it cannot be pardoned," said Confucius. She had come to agree with him as well. Something inside of Stan had clicked and told him the time for being good was over after eight years, and that now it was time to have his wish.

Stan Fields...no, he was born Stan Carter, actually. He had married a woman named Lucile, they had a daughter named Samantha. Samantha was found dead near a stream when she was thirteen, obvious signs of sexual assault, but no DNA matches to the semen found. Now the team had found their match based on Amy's own realizations.

"Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win," said Stephen King. Amy knew he was right. This time around, Stan lost to his internal monster. It was the only explanation for his actions.

This led Amy to wonder: If Stan had not died, if he had been sent to prison for his crimes and given life without parole, would he have been able to shove the monster back inside, lock it away, and return to normal? Amy missed the old Stan terribly. The monster he had become was too much unlike Stan to say it was really him.

But it was him. The pedophile-murderer-rapist being he had become was him all along. If Amy thought hard enough (which she had done one time too many), the Stan he had become back in the house in the woods was still him. He acted the same way, just...different. Younger. Almost less-human. Amy noticed after "love sessions" he always seemed younger, and she always felt older, as if he gave her his age and he took her youth away. It was a strange concept.

"Amy? You there? Hello?" Eloïse asked, waving her hand in front of the young teen's face.

Amy blinked. "Yeah? Sorry. I was just...thinking."

Eloïse sighed. "I take it you didn't hear a word I just said, huh?"

Amy pursed her lips. "Were you talking about table settings?"

Eloïse sighed again, and continued talking, Amy managing to keep up and engaged.

Friday, March 30th, 2012 10:24 AM
Somewhere in Virginia, United States

The older man sighed, sipping the too-strong coffee his nephew had made him. Hidden in his left hand was the silver locket he had been falling asleep holding ever since he had seen Amy on Dr. Phil. There had been no other shows or performances with Amy, but the older man kept himself in high hopes of seeing her again soon.

"Uncle, are you alright?" the young man asked, setting down his newspaper.

The older man nodded slowly. "When is your father joining us?"

At the change of subject, the young man picked the newspaper back up. "Uh, Mother and Father are supposed to be arriving in two weeks."

The older man raised his eyebrows. "Your mother is coming too?"

"If you don't mind, yes. She can help you get better, considering she's a nurse."

The older man nodded slowly, sipping the coffee again, almost spitting out the bitter liquid. "Whyever we drink this vile beverage I shall never know. I'm going to put on some tea. Would you like some?"

The young man shook his head, slightly deflated at his uncle's honesty. "No thanks, Uncle. I'm good with coffee."

The older man grunted, muttering about his nephew's lack of taste buds for the deserving beverage as he shuffled over to the stove and putting the tea kettle on a burner. This would be another quiet day of polite disagreement, just like the past forty-five days had been.