Stockholm Syndrome

1tongue

Synopsis: The first time I saw Edward Cullen; he had pummeled Mike Newton to pulp and was methodically licking blood off his fingers. Like Mike was a cake and his blood was the icing on the top. I had no idea then that this was my downfall into eternal damnation. [AU/AH]

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to S.M.

Stockholm syndrome is a term used to describe a paradoxical psychological phenomenon wherein hostages express adulation and have positive feelings towards their captors that appear irrational in light of the danger or risk endured by the victims.

"…I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference."

- The Road Not Taken
Robert Frost

Maybe I should have realised that something was wrong when I saw the dark alleyway. The shadows lurking behind it hid unknowns, the faint sound of an urgent pant, the metallic tang of blood vaguely tickling the nostrils… but I didn't. Instead, I looked at my watch and got the shock of my life when I realised just how late it was.

Shouldn't have spent so long in the library, I mused, Charlie's gonna have to eat take-out again tonight, and quite honestly, his cholesterol cannot take it.

My name is Bella Swan- seventeen, fatally clumsy and utterly boring. I had no idea that my life was going to change so irrevocably and I had no idea that behind that corner lay my downfall into eternal damnation. Still stuck in my naïve construct of reality and blindly holding on to the good in a world that was becoming increasingly corrupted, I was a relic from a past that no longer held true in this tiny town of Forks.

Without a second thought- which I should have taken- I turned the corner and took the less traveled short-cut that I was warned never to take.

Keep looking at the floor, I warned myself mentally, or you'll just fall… again.

Too focused with preventing that same fatal clumsiness from shortening my lifespan yet again, I didn't see them until it was too late. I noticed the loose gravel under my feet, mentally went through what I would tell Charlie (the truth of course, I had lost sight of time in the library), thought about what I would cook for dinner the next day (Meatloaf? Steak?) and I really didn't notice the debacle that was unfolding before my very… absent… eyes. I'm oblivious like that, you see.

In fact, I didn't see it first- I heard it first. Methodical thuds. A familiar voice in an agonized plea. I looked up and my heart stopped beating.

That was the first time I ever saw him. The first thing I noticed about him was not his unkempt hair that covered his face, or his lean, muscular body that was hidden behind a plain black shirt, or even his green eyes that were breathtakingly beautiful. The first thing I noticed was his intenseness, the way his body was tensed up with purpose, the way he never spoke but was focused entirely on his task, and later, the way his green eyes would stare right at me and unravel me layer by layer. Even through the panic, the nightmarish chaos around me, the intense, unbridling fear, I recognized that he was easily, the most beautiful person I had ever seen, reminding me of how I had always found a leopard beautiful- graceful, purposeful, primal, dangerous.

The second thing I noticed was the unfortunate person he had in his grips. Mike Newton was half slumped, his body weak and pliant like a wilted plant, his neck jutted in a strange angle because the green-eyed stranger was holding him up by his hair. The Mike Newton hair- the one he spent an hour on faithfully every morning in front of the mirror jelling to perfection. (He always cared more about his hair than me.) And he was carefully, with surgical precision, pummeling Mike's face.

I couldn't think. Couldn't move. Couldn't scream. All I could do was to stare at the scene before me. I think my jaw unhinged. And my school bag fell onto the floor.

Mike was barely screaming. His voice came out in a papery whisper. "Sstop it," he cried, "please." The man continued. "Please!" his voice came out a little stronger now, desperate. I don't think Mike saw me; he was too enveloped in pain to notice anything but the pain.

I must have dropped my school bag. Or made a sound of some sort because that someone looked up and stared right at me. Took me in for who I was, poor Bella Swan, innocent naïve Bella Swan, clumsy Bella Swan, scared shitless Bella Swan, immobile Bella Swan, and went back to torturing Mike Newton. Because that was precisely what it was. There was no way it could have been considered a fair match. Mike Newton was barely functioning; brawls degenerates age and he was like a helpless child at the mercy of his assailant. The man with the green eyes let go of Mike's one-hour hair and Mike's body slumped onto the ground, a mass of bruises, cuts, indubitably broken bones and blood.

All that blood.

And even if Mike Newton was a two-timing, cheating bastard of an ex-boyfriend, I knew I couldn't leave him there under the mercy of the green-eyed Mike-Newton-thumping stranger.

I think something in me snapped. DO SOMETHING. ANYTHING.

"Stop it," I half whispered, half said. My voice sounded weak. Honestly, is that the best you can do?! That was pathetic! "STOP IT," I yelled this time. Phone. Phone. Phone. Where's my phone? I should call Charlie, Charlie will know what to do. I fingered my pleated school skirt. The familiar bulge wasn't there. Where the hell was my phone?

With sickening clarity, I realised I must have left my phone at home. Just on the one same day I really needed it. With that same sickening clarity, I realised I could be in a lot of danger.

There was a laugh. It was cold and hard and emotionless. "Why should I?" that someone said. I could barely look at him. My limbs were shaking and I could feel my heartbeat race in fear. I took a few steps back.

"J..just stop it," I said again, "Mike's…. Mike's…." I looked again at the living corpse of Mike Newton. Face completely bashed in and body a wreck of bleeding fresh, crimson blood, cuts, bruises. I faintly heard a gurgle. Mike was twitching uncontrollably and suddenly, his body went slack. He was quiet, for once, not the loud, arrogant, pompous ass that he normally was. In fact, he looked like he wasn't breathing.

"Oh God, Oh God," I said under my breath, "is he dead?"

There was a reply again. The… someone was obviously now uninterested in Mike Newton because the one-sided attack had ended. "He's not dead, unfortunately," he said, "nothing that a few days in the ICU and a few weeks in the hospital cannot heal. I'll say, maybe four broken bones, probably a few broken ribs, superficial cuts, internal bleeding and probably some emotional trauma."

I couldn't help but breath a sigh of relief, and than, the panic set in again. The man hadn't even sounded happy. Or sad. Or triumphant. He had just beat the living lights out of Mike Newton and he remained completely and utterly emotionless.

I took a few more steps back. I could feel my body shake. I knew for a fact that the man in front of me was more dangerous than I could ever imagine.

"Are you scared of me?" he asked again, noticing how I was inching away from him slowly but surely. This time he sounded amused. Amused as he deftly started to lick his fingers clean of Mike Newton's blood. Like Mike Newton was a freaking cake and his blood was the icing all over it.

I couldn't reply, I wanted to run. Charlie's lessons flashed in front of me. Pepper spray, a kick in a groin and then, run for your life. But his lessons certainly didn't help when the assailant wasn't really attacking you yet, three meters away and a little too far for pepper spray. And some how, I knew that pepper spray was completely the wrong way to go. Because the man in front of me… could not be provoked.

"You should be," he said again, "I'm not someone to cross." His eyes glinted, and I knew, without a doubt, even though I had no idea who this man was, that he was speaking the truth. My blood chilled.

A lick again. He began sucking his fingers now. I watched in sick fascination and his pink tongue (I half expected them to be forked) flicked out and captured his long fingers.

I tore my eyes away from the tongue that was going to be a part of my nightmares. The adrenaline started to pump and I realised what I had to do. Ignoring my bag, I turned, going to run. I had barely taken a few steps when-

"If you run away, I will kill him."

I stopped. My heart was pounding so heart, my chest started to hurt and I was so close to peeing in my skirt because I had never been so scared in my life.

"Don't kill him," I gasped, "why can't you just let us go?"

That cold laugh again. "I'm having fun," he said, "I'm a hedonist. So, what do you do for fun?"

What kind of question was that? I started playing with the hem of my skirt. My palms felt sweaty. "I… I uh… why are you asking this?" I was desperate. Panicked. My heart beating, thud, thud, thud.

"Answer me," he said harshly. He grabbed Mike by the hair in an abrupt movement and waved Mike's head threateningly in front of me. Mike was out cold and didn't make a sound. I gasped. The words weren't coming into my head. Think, Bella. Just do what he says. I tried to ignore the way Mike's hair was matted with blood and the way the madman (what else could I call him?) stared at me intensely.

"Read," I blurted out suddenly. "A lot. I… I like how when I read I can escape and there's nothing but me and the words on the page and the smell on the book and the world that is created and… and… everything around me goes away." I was stunned at the words coming out from my mouth. I had never voiced out my fascination with reading in that way to anyone before. There was something about him that forced me to tell the truth. Maybe it was the fact that he was merciless. Maybe it was just the way he stripped me apart.

He looked at me from where he was standing, slumped against a lamppost, the warm light casting shadows on his face. I couldn't see the expression he made but I could feel the intensity of his gaze on me.

"So, the bookworm girl who likes to hide from the world, what are you going to do now?" He asked. I could almost feel a smirk on his face.

"W...what do you mean?" I questioned. I could my sweaty fingers as I played with my skirt again. I couldn't believe this was happening to me. It was like a dream. Or maybe I've just been so sucked into my book and the world that was created was so real I was a part of it. Or maybe this was just some horrible nightmare I could wake up from.

His tongue again, licking his fingers.

"You come to this alley way. You see me thrashing him," he accentuated this by kicking Mike's body. I winced. "Someone you obviously know." A sneer. "So what are you going to do about it? Are you just going to stay here and make conversation and tell me what you like to do for fun?"

Suddenly, the fear that had been overwhelming a while ago disappeared and was replaced by an anger that bubbled. "You… you… monster," I hissed, "you know very well why I'm telling you what I do for fun. Why are you doing this? What did Mike ever do to you?"

He laughed. It was cold. "So that's his name. Mike." His lips curled. "Well… let's just say, Mike was in the wrong place, at the wrong time. Mike existed. Unfortunate, really." Another kick. Was that a crunch I heard?

With a strength I did not know existed, I ran towards that Mike's fallen body and towards that man in the light. Blindly, stupidly, I half ran with my fatal clumsiness and half rummaged through my bag for that pepper spray. I felt the unfamiliar cold in my fingers and whipped it out, and without thought sprayed it at the man before me.

I pressed down on the nozzle with my shaking fingers… only to realise that he had disappeared. My temporary surge of courage had resulted in me pepper-spraying thin air. Smart, Bella.

A voice came out from behind me. "Pepper spray?" he sounded contemptuous. "You really think pepper spray is going to stop me?"

I jumped and whipped around, and he… he was there again, looking at me with those green eyes, his body leaning closer towards me. I could feel his breath on my face, could make out the fine bone structure as it inched forward and the world around me blurred and all I could focus on, all I could see, was that face, that face that would haunt me, that tongue licking an upper lip, that pink flicking tongue…

And then, he backed off. "That was stupid," he said calmly, "that was very stupid."

I shuddered at the words. My heart was still thumping wildly. I could feel the pepper spray canister slip out from my hands. What was I going to do? What could I do? He looked at me again. I noticed how his fingers were now licked clean of blood except for his last, index finger. I noticed how his black shirt was covered with darkened, crusted bloodstains. I noticed how his knuckles were slightly bruised.

"What is your name?" He said suddenly.

The words were stuck in my throat. Wasn't it a bad idea to give your name to a random stranger in a dark alleyway, someone who was infinitely more dangerous than you can ever imagine, someone who had just beaten Mike Newton to pulp?

"If you don't answer me, I will really kick Mr. Mike Newton there," he said, "I will kick him and punch him until all his bones are broken and the hospital here will be making a mint from charging him medical fees."

"Bella," I quickly said, "Bella Swan."

He paused for a moment, as though to memorise my name. "Okay Bella Swan. You have done enough. You can now tell whomever you want to tell that you tried your best. You tried to stop me. You even attacked me, however pathetic it was. Don't worry, Bella Swan who reads books for fun, you tried and your conscience is clean."

He started to walk away. Before he turned, I saw him lick that last index finger clean of Mike Newton's blood. There was a small smile on his face. "I'll see you around Bella Swan." I could only watch as he walked off, his body now relaxed, Mike Newton all over him, blood, snot, tears, pride splattered on his body other than his clean, licked, shiny fingers.

Suddenly I couldn't take it anymore. My legs felt weak, the alleyway became a dark swirl, my head felt lightheaded and the next thing I knew, everything was black.

The last thing I remembered before I lost consciousness was his pink, flicking tongue.

My first fanfiction and an idea that has been playing in my head for a long time. I hope you take the time to review because it'll make me very happy : ) And it'll help me improve the quality of my writing. Thanks for reading this!