STOCKHOLM

"You're like a little, lost puppy. Always searching for a sort of companionship in everyone you meet. You have this misconception of the world – that everyone you come into contact with is a saint. But sometimes, if you're not careful, you'll run into the Devil."

Chapter One: How Had It Come To This?

My love, Lenore. He used to say it me, and it made my skin tingle. But he never was a romantic, and never did he say anything he meant. He might have been playing with my head, as everyone pretty much thinks. He might have decided to analyze my reaction. Or, by some sick twist of fate, he actually knew what he was saying and meant it. But a demon couldn't love. A creature of the underworld could never feel emotion. He was the devil and I was his angel.

"Opposites attract, Nora."

I shivered as his voice entered my mind. I had escaped again, into the darkness of the city night. The rain didn't bother me, the cold didn't faze me. My feet pounded against the asphalt, and I was gasping for breath. I ran like I had a purpose – and I did. To escape. I was so close to freedom, I could've tasted it. I was nearing relief, and I wanted it desperately. But once again, my strength was crushed. My hope was gone.

I was roughly tackled to the hard, wet ground all the while hearing hysterical laughter echo around me. I felt a huge weight come over me as he straddled my small frame. He was breathing heavily from the chase and an excited look had entered his crazed eyes. He wore a wide grin as he panted for breath.

"O, ho ho! Lookie who tried to run away…again." He sighed with exaggeration, "You know, I'm gettin' real tired of having to chase you all around town."

I glared daggers at him before hastily spitting in his face. It didn't even faze him in the least. He merely wiped away my saliva with his leather glove. Then he backhanded my face, causing a painful crack to resonate through my head. I tasted blood in my mouth and I gagged.

"Go fuck yourself." I hated him. I hated him so much, but I was powerless to do anything to him. I could kick and scream, of course. But he always was one step ahead, always had an ace in the hole. And this time, he had counted on it.

"Oh no, no, no sweetie. That's why I love you. You're always so selfless. Never even thinking about why I keep you." His grin was sickening, he knew he had pushed my buttons. It's what he wanted. It's all he ever wanted when it came down to me. Because I never ceased amusing him. My reactions kept him intrigued, and I suppose that's why I'm not dead yet. But who knows what can happen?

"I hate you! I fucking hate you!" I screamed at him, lunging up and pounding at him with my fists. In an instant, I was powerless again. Forced to submit to his brute strength. He grabbed my arms and easily flipped me over so now I was beneath him. As I always was and probably would always be.

"Don't lie, darling. Why would you hate the man who selflessly took you in, huh?" his dark, calculating eyes bore into mine, "If it weren't for me, you'd be dead right now."

"I might as well be! I'll be dead because of you!" I struggled hopelessly against him, but he was too strong.

As soon as the words left my mouth, a cold blade was flicked to my neck. I felt the cold steel against my hot, sweaty skin and I involuntarily shivered. "Is this what you wanted?" he sneered.

I didn't answer. I just glared at him with all of my might, sending him all of the violent thoughts in the world. "Huh?" he shook me hard, "You want this?"

A surge of courageousness flooded through me. I was so sick of this. I was tired of living this way. I wasn't free. I wasn't me. He had played with me like puddy, then sculpted me into what he wanted. It was never my choice, even if he tricked me into believing it was. This had to end. I would end his reign. I would end him.

"Go ahead." I spoke slowly and sincerely. Though anger laced every word, my voice didn't shake. He merely scoffed and pressed the blade harder against my neck, drawing blood.

"So, you're finally ready to give into death, are you? So pitiful and pathetic. You gave in so easily. You showed a lot of promise, too." He shook his head, mocking me.

"I have nothing more to live for." I snarled, "I have nothing more to fear."

He chuckled, "Oh but my dear, you do. You think you can escape me in death? Oh, no, no. You'll never escape from me. Death can't even save you now. You're in too deep. And God, if he existed, would never take you. You'd be rotting in the same Hell I would."

"He forgives. He can forgive me, and you." I tried one last time to get him to listen.

His expression changed dramatically. He laughed right in my face, "Don't tell me you're still on about that, huh? You really think your little lecture will cause me to have a change of heart? I can see it now…" he waved the hand with the knife as if he were telling a story, "I reach the pearly gates, Saint Peter comes out from a mist of cloud and emerges through a ray of sun. He pats me on the shoulder and says, "Well done, son. You may enter Paradise." Honey, you really must have a bad judge of character to say that to me." He got up and dragged me behind him.

"Let me go you crazy psychopath!" I beat at his hand that clutched my hair. He suddenly spun around and gripped my neck so hard I couldn't breathe.

"I am not crazy." He hissed, "No I'm not." He shook me violently before taking hold of my wrist and continued to drag me away.

How had it come to this? My life, well, it wasn't exactly perfect, but it was a hell of a lot better than what it turned out to be now. I had a family, a dad in the police force for the love of God! I had a good job, an honest line of work. I had my own little apartment and I even had a pet of my own. Nothing in my life ever could have implicated that I would soon fall victim, right into the hands of a notorious madman who even had the mob running for its money.

But I knew. I knew how all of this managed to happen. He came to me, offered me help. He was going to save me, give me life again. But at what cost? I never could've prepared myself for what soon transpired. I became blinded and misguided, too caught up in my own petty problems to worry about what was happening to me.

Day by day, piece by piece, he broke me down. He had taken everything I had and twisted my life upside down. It wasn't so difficult at first, being by his side. But when push came to shove, I finally opened my eyes and saw how he had single-handedly removed any and all confidence I had, and tore me down into what I am now. I can't help but ask, "How had it come to this?"

The answer was simple, and I knew it. I had let him in. I gave him his power over me, but I don't know if I can reclaim it. If I can ever be free of him, of this life, of this psycho-analysis I'm constantly under from myself. Am I, actually, the crazy one?

I glanced warily over at him as he drove, humming his stupid, little made-up tunes. He caught me staring from the corner of his eye and grinned cheekily at me.

"What's the matter, angel? I know I'm dashing, but jeez."

I glared at him fiercely again before turning my hate-filled eyes to my hands. I had bruises around my wrists where he held me down, and I was sure the rest of me didn't look so hot, too. I felt very frail and knew my body wouldn't last much longer. I don't know how I knew it, but I did. I knew this vessel my spirit dwelled inside couldn't endure anymore of this. I was tired, even if my soul raged. I was about ready to give up all together, and I was ready for it. I just wanted rest, any sort of relief from him.

"Don't think too hard, you'll end up hurting yourself." He said smoothly, interrupting my thoughts.

I sighed shortly and shut my eyes briefly. I looked out the window and watched the familiar places pass me by. The coffee shop, the police station, my apartment building, it all flew by like a memory from a dream.

"That was an invitation to say what's on your mind." He clarified his earlier statement.

I didn't even fight back, I just heard words coming out of my mouth, "I'm just thinking," I paused, "About everything."

"Well, that certainly didn't clear things up." He was acting sincere, and I wasn't sure if I could trust him. He did this sometimes, to force information out of me, to hear my life story or whatever happened to be on his agenda. He would act caring, like he actually wanted to hear my thoughts or opinions. Usually, he shoots them down or cracks up in my face. But, on a few rare occasions, he won't comment at all. He'd look like he was thinking, but he wouldn't say anything after that.

"Hello! Really, what the hell is keeping you so far away from our little adventure?" I hated how his voice always tore into my thoughts, breaking me away from the freedom I had in my mind. My thoughts are my own, and there's no way he could ever intrude on those, except by verbal pestering.

"Us." Was all I could force myself to say.

He ahh-ed with a knowing look in his dark eyes, "I see. Feeling nostalgic, are we?"

"Stop talking to me."

He chuckled, "Now aren't we getting a spiteful tongue? Seriously, you crack me up."

I said nothing. If I remained silent, I didn't give him fuel to work with. I merely looked away and decided to count the passing buildings. It didn't take me long to realize we were leaving the city. But why? His hand stretched across all boroughs in Gotham City, so why did he want to go out of city limits?

"Where are we going?" I asked monotonously.

"Sheesh, you could sound a bit happier about our newest endeavor. Besides," he winked at me, "It's a surprise." I gulped. His "surprises" were never good. I watched as the buildings became scarce and the highway began.

I couldn't help but wonder where we were headed and if I would live through the night. I sighed deeply with my eyes fixed outside at the thundering rain. I shook my head. I may die tonight. I may not see tomorrow morning, the sun, my apartment, ever again. How did my life end up so wrong? That's right, it was my fault. It was all my fault, and now my life is once again endangered, and just like before, there's not a damn thing I can do about it. I paused. Or is there? I began accessing the deepest thoughts in the dark recess of my memory, recalling how all of this began.