Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

Can't Fight the Moonlight

Chapter 12: Fallen


Previously on Can't Fight the Moonlight:

Addison lies awake in her house. Alex is beside her, but he's not awake. She's restless and she can't just count ceiling cracks the whole night. She throws on a robe and heads down the stairs. Slightly hung-over, she opens a window and feels the cool air hit her. It's so refreshing. Her body feels like it's on fire. She opens the front door of her house and steps outside. Ahh. She runs her feet and toes through the dewy grass as she walks to the sidewalk near her house. It's a new subdivision, so most of the houses are in different stages of building. She admires the houses and continues down the path. Now that's interesting. I like the layout of that one. The fireplace is-

A hand shoots out and covers her mouth from behind. Dry lips are pressed to her ear and a scratchy voice whispers "Don't move." Strong arms pull her to the ground.

Addison wishes she could scream or kick or fight. But she's too stunned and frightened. So she lies there out in the dewy grass that used to cool the fire within her. At least she can see his face. But as soon as she takes a mental picture, she looks away and winces.


Heaven bend to take my hand
And lead me through the fire
Be the long awaited answer
To a long and painful fight

It was very early in the morning. Jake Parker stood in his house, drinking his morning coffee as usual. Using his hand, he pulled back the dark green curtains covering the front windows of the house. Peering out, he saw a police car parked in the street adjacent to his. It moved very slowly down the street, not to cause any unneeded excitement in the neighborhood, but enough to warn certain people that the law was watching them. Every so often, the car stopped in front of the house across from Jake. Apparently, the beautiful woman with red hair did not have enough protection between her boyfriend and the two muscular men who kept stopping by. Even her voluptuous friend with the black curly hair looked like she could kick some serious ass. The redhead, usually happy, seemed to mope about for the past few weeks. Jake took this as an opportunity.

The woman was usually strong and independent, the kind of woman that Jake hated. She reminded him of a woman named Stacy, who worked at the same law firm as Jake. She was his boss, actually, though he had a little trouble admitting this. Somehow, she had received this partnership that was meant for Jake. He was perfect, but Stacy had confidence and blew the board away (in more ways than one, Jake thought). Another partnership wouldn't be offered for another thirty years. He was angry, at all women like Stacy. When he moved in across from the redhead, he found her to be an exact copy of Stacy with darker hair and longer legs. He watched her, determined to find the information needed to bring all feminists down. But as time passed, he noticed that her confident personality was an act. This "strong" woman was dependent on the people around her. Sometimes, the redhead was all alone, and if Jake looked really closely, she cried. This made him absolutely furious. He couldn't believe that he lost to an actress, a liar. Jake was determined to take his revenge. He needed her to submit to him in the most effective way possible.

Jake was a successful lawyer, but also very lonely. Some might call him a control freak, obsessive-compulsive, but Jake preferred to think of himself as organized. He woke up every morning at 4:00. He took an hour shower and then had breakfast. A bowl of Wheaties every day. At precisely 5:35 on Monday mornings, he took out the trash. He saw her and made his move, pinning her to the ground.

Afterwards, he ran. He ran as far as he could until he reached a hair salon. He used the last of the money in his wallet to die his hair grey. Now, looking into the mirror in his living room now, he realized that he appeared much older, in his mid-fifties. Twenty years older than he actually was. Of course, the stress of his job put the wrinkles in his face and the wisdom in his voice. It was her fault, the determined, eager woman that he looked this way, that he was all alone. She WOULD pay. After it all, he understood that he didn't just want her to relinquish her control. He wanted her dead.

So, in realizing this he opened the closet door and pulled out his jacket. After putting it on, he pulled out a cane. He untwisted the curved part and the cane opened up into a large knife. He checked it three times. Then, he exited, locking the door behind him. He pretended to hobble down his driveway and crossed the street to the redhead's house.


Though I've tried I've fallen
I have sunk so low
I messed up
Better I should know
So don't come 'round here and
Tell me I told you so

"Hey." The policemen had noticed Jake, but he was not frightened. He had prepared for this. He was wearing a sweater and khaki pants. Bifocals with fake lenses balanced uncomfortably on the bridge of his nose.

"Yes, sir?"

"What is your business with the residents of this house?"

Jake smiled. "I've noticed that the woman who resides her has seemed very troubled lately. At least once per week, her and her boyfriend stop by my house for some friendly conversation and tea. They haven't been by in three weeks and I just wanted to check up on them. Also, I am hirring a few of the neighborhood boys to rake the leaves on my lawn. I wanted to off to have them work their lawn too. I was thinking that there might have been a death in the family and I've found that the little gestures count in times of need. In addition, the boys could make use of the exercise and ethics that one gets out of manual labor."

Jake gave a well-thought out and convincing speech. Paried with the fact that he look the part, what choice did the policemen have, but to accept his story as the truth? It seemed impossible that this sweet old man could ever inflict pain on another human being. The police let him pass with smiles on their faces. Jake thanked them for their services and continued slowly up the path to Addison's front door.

Jake chuckled and knocked on the door. He had timed this carefully. He boyfriend had just left. There was about a twenty minute window until the older bulky man with the facial hair arrived. So, if he was right (and he always was), the redhead would have to answer the door.

She did.

And she gasped at seeing his face. Though his hair was completely different, she would never forget his face. She had hoped and pleaded that she would never have to see him again, but now that he was standing on her porch, she froze. Her moment of delay gave him just enough time to enter the house. She protested and struggled with him, but because of the shock, she couldn't do much to restrain him.

He shut the door behind them and she started backing away slowly, knowing that any sudden move might set him off.

"Wait," he said, and for some reason, she stopped.

He put the cane down and rested it against the door. He removed his jacket. "I'm not hiding anything. I just want to talk."

Still, as he walked toward her, she stepped back. It only took a few steps to back her up against the staircase. She fell back on to them, sitting on the third step.

Jake marveled at his control to make her do anything that he commanded. He got dow in her face and she refused to look him in the eye. He licked his lips. "What makes you think that you can just walk around here, acting like you own the world?"

She bit her lip, not knowing whether to speak or not. He made it clear that he was saiting for her to answer. "I- I don't..." she stuttered.

"How dare you lie to me?!" he screamed at her. She thought that he might hit her, but he turned back to the doorway and grabbed the cane. He used it to gesture wildly at her. "I've watched you! You strut around here in your high heels and your power suits ordering everybody around!"

Tears began to spill down Addison's face. "What?"

"You know what I'm talking about!" he yells, "It's women like you that ruin the lives of men! I'd be doing the world a huge service by getting rid of you!"

Addison clung to the rail of the staircase. "But I didn't do anything!"

He ripped the knife out of the cane. "You're just like her! You take advantage of everyone's emotions and manipulate them so everything is beneficial for you!"

"No!" Addison screamed.

"Yes!" he asserted.

A door opened from the other end of the house. Jake grabbed Addison and held the knife to her throat. He pressed her hard against the stairs. "One noise, and I'll slit your throat," he whispered.

"Addie?" It was Alex. "Mark isn't going to make it today so Bailey arranged for me to be off," Alex shouted to the empty house. "Addie? You're not still in bed, are you?" he teased as he climbed up the back stairs and Addison cursed herself for building two sets of stairs in the enormous house.

She looked up at Jake. Clearly he was formulating a new plan. She looked down and saw Aphrodite, her boa constrictor, slithering at her feet. Jake glanced down and saw the snake. He made a small yelp and kicked at the serpent. Aphrodite, sensing his fear, struck, sinking her fangs into his ankle. Jake let out a full blown cry and released Addison, much to her relief. He tried to pry teh snake off at first and then resorted to stabbing the knife in her genereal direction.

But Aphrodite was too fast for him, thrashing her body every nanosecond.

Alex, having heard Jake's cry, rushed down the stairs. Jake didn't hear him and before he knew it, his knife was skidding across the floor and Alex had him pinned to the stairs, wrenching Aphrodite jaws off his leg. "Who are you?!" Alex demanded. He looked to Addison for an answer, but she only shuddered in the corner.

Jake threw Alex off in his moment of distraction and lunged at Addison, throwing his hands around her mouth and nose, shutting off all of her airways.

Black dots filled Addison's vision and the last thing that she remembered was Alex's fist connecting with Jake's temple.


We believe that we can change ourselves
The past can be undone
But we carry on our back the burdens time always reveals
In the lonely light of morning
In the wound that would not heal
It's the bitter taste of losing everything
I've held so dear

Addison woke to a throbbing pain in her head. She pressed her hand to her forehead, trying to find a way to cease the pain. Her legs were twisted in the sheets and her whole body was damp from sweat.

But she was in her own bedroom. And Alex was asleep next to her. What a relief.

The door was cracked and it looked like someone was sleeping outside the door. Mark, she could tell, from the snoring.

She drew up the cover of the bed. Alex stirred a little. She swallowed as her feet hit the cold floor and she entered the master bathroom. Was it all a dream? The strain in her arms and the bruises on her throat proved her fears true.

She sat on the toilet, running her hands through her hair, attempting to figure this all out. Was...that man...right? He called her selfish and self-centered.

It happened again. Before today, she had thought the worse was over, that she was getting better. But she was stuck again. At square one.

Her mother had mentioned something about this. That she only looked out for herself and never paid attention to anyone else. Maybe it was true. Apparently everyone thought so and until now, no one had the courage to tell her.

Because she was a cold-hearted bitch that never listened to anyone.

Was her attack punishment for this sort of thing? Or was it a warning, a signal of some kind, making her aware of how others really thought of her?

Nevertheless, she felt guilty for what she had done. Alex, as an intern, had many responsibilities. He didn't want a needy girlfriend. Derek had made it clear that he didn't want her in his life. Between his ever-so-scandalous relationship with Meredith and the painful divorce, Addison didn't feel like a part of him anymore. And Mark, well, he had already moved on. He barely glanced at her anymore.

She felt isolated, not quite alive.

Her fingers gripped the toilet seat.

How much pity could she have for herself? It made her sick to even think of it.

She needed to feel alive. She needed to clear her head. She needed perfection. She needed to erase the guilt and regret and pity from her mind.

She rose, not thinking anymore and went into the closet. She didn't flip on the light. She knew the exact location of what she was looking for. Tucked inside the expensive black heels from Prada was a box of razors. Rather methodically, she peeled back the plastic and disposed of the empty container before sitting back on the toilet seat.

Dragging the cool metal against her skin, she let out a breath.

Brand-new razors were the sharpest; the pain begins quickly and the burn lasted for days.

It was just what she needed.


A/N: Thank you for waiting SO patiently. I actually had the first part written like two months ago and then I wrote one line a day for the last section.

I cannot believe that I wrote something so utterly depressing.

Seriously. You should all go watch "The Sound of Music" or "Superbad" or something.

Although I am probably liable, please don't sue me if you die from the toxic amounts of angst.

And guess what? It doesn't really get any better.

Well, it gets a little better. But not much. At least not until chapter 17, which I have decided will be happy.

Please review. And I will try VERY MUCH harder to update at least once a millennium. And maybe, if I procrastiate enough on school, you will have an update within a week! But that would be quite ambitious.