Disclaimer: Twilight's not mine – it's Stephenie Meyer's. Duh. I own nothing, except this really cool desk lamp I bought last night at Ikea for like $4. Now I can write in the dark. Woot!
*****WARNING***** I really hate warnings. But I gotsta, for the few who may still be inexplicably clueless as to how I do. I don't want to ruin it for you… but remember that disclaimer I put in the actual story notes in the beginning? That's cause I knew this chapter was coming. M'kay then.
Bella raced toward the body. Edward closed the door and followed.
"I know him," she whimpered, her terrified voice laced with confusion. "I know him." Bella stared at the body, her hands shaking violently. The moonlight filtering through the window illuminated a pool of dark liquid around his head.
Sticking out from behind the futon, Edward could see shoes too small to be Jake's. He had trouble making his way through the loft in the dark, however, and tripped on the corner of the green chair. "Ow, shit. Where's the light?"
He turned, feeling around for the floor lamp. He didn't see a thing before falling to the cement floor, a searing pain radiating from the back of his skull. The light came on just before he slipped into darkness.
"Edward!" Bella screamed. The lamp came on, illuminating a shirtless figure beside her fallen boyfriend. Shocked, she stared at the stranger, who held a large wrench in his hand. His light hair was cut extremely short, and he had two or three days of reddish-blond stubble on his face. For a moment he just stood there, watching her inspect him. His eyes, shadowed by the angle of the lamp, looked bruised and hollow. When she took a frightened step backward, he cocked his head to the left and smirked, amused.
A gasp of recognition resonated through the open space. Her voice lost to fear, Bella's greeting was but a weak whisper. "James."
"Aww… that's not happiness to see me." He stepped around the fallen Edward and toward his disturbingly beautiful and well-dressed girlfriend. So different was she from the last time he'd seen her, he might not have recognized her either, under different circumstances.
Bella continued to back up, afraid to take her eyes off her intruder for a second. But she found herself pinned between him and the body lying behind her, and glanced back at it, looking for a safe place to step.
James followed her gaze with disinterest. "You remember Tyler."
x – x – x – x – x
Victoria sat at her mother's kitchen table, one knee bouncing nervously. "How long has he been gone?"
"He left sometime last night." Sasha slumped into the chair across from her daughter and wrung her hands in her lap. "I had to get to work. I was hoping when I got home this afternoon, he'd be here."
"But he never came back." Victoria's voice was flat, emotionless. She already knew the answer.
Sasha dabbed at the corners of her eyes with a soggy Kleenex. "There's something I didn't tell you, on the phone." Victoria's eyes shot up to hers in question; what else he had he done?
"The grocery money was in my purse yesterday. It's gone."
"Shit." Upset or not, Sasha wasn't about to let the foul language slide, and shot her daughter a disapproving glare. Victoria sighed. "Sorry. So, what do we do?"
Sasha blew her nose and set the wasted Kleenex on the table. Then she picked up the cordless phone on the table and dialed. When the call was answered, her voice was shaky but clear. "I need to report a stolen car."
Victoria's knee picked up momentum and she chewed on a thumbnail. They'd have to call the parole officer next, she decided. The bus didn't run on Sunday; she'd probably have to drive Sasha to work tomorrow, too. A shiver ran up her spine as a scary thought occurred to her. "Mom?"
Sasha was on hold, and put the phone on her shoulder. "What?"
"Should we… do we need to call Officer Swan?"
Sasha's eyes widened, and she swallowed the lump rising in her throat. After a moment's thought, she shook her head fitfully, denial written all over her face. "No. No, no, we don't know where he is, Vicky. We don't know. We can't assume he'd…" Tears flowed again as her hollow defense of her son hung in the air, unfinished.
x – x – x – x – x
Leah was folded up in the passenger seat of her Saab, her bare feet on the dash as Jake drove up the 15 freeway from San Diego. She tapped her toes to the rhythm of the stereo, her heart light after seeing her grandmother on her 90th birthday. Jake's mood was equally buoyant, having finally met Leah's family. He loved them; they were as much fun as his family back home.
Jake's phone rang as they entered Riverside County. He turned down the music and glanced at his screen before answering.
"Hey, Charlie."
"Jake. I can't get a hold of Bella. She's not answering her phone." He sounded distressed.
"Well, she's at a party."
Charlie grunted in frustration. "Can you try the boyfriend? Edward?"
"Sure, sure," Jake answered carefully. "I'll call him and call you back."
Leah looked concerned. "What's up?"
"Charlie's freaking out because he can't reach Bella." He dialed Edward, but got his voicemail. He left a message, giving Charlie's number, and called Charlie back.
"Guess Edward can't hear his phone either. I left a voicemail. But I'm sure she'll call you back tomorrow." He heard Charlie sigh heavily. "Charlie, is everything alright? Is there something I can do for you?"
"Jacob." The somber tone of Charlie's voice got his attention. Jake exited at the first off-ramp he came to, pulling over abruptly.
His stomach flipped as he imagined the few possible reasons for what he and Bella had always referred to as 'the cop-voice'. "Let me have it."
"When I got home from fishing, there was a message – from a buddy at Corrections. Marsh was released two days ago."
Jake sat upright and shot Leah a panicked glance. "What? How? No, it's too soon!"
Charlie sighed; his reaction had been the same. Mel was a guard at the prison, and a long-time friend of Charlie's. He'd kept an extra close eye on James, and was surprised and a little pissed when he came in to work and found out James had been released. After hearing the message, Charlie returned Mel's call immediately, demanding to know what the hell he was talking about. There was still eleven months on the sentence! That's when Mel told him about the early-release paperwork for twenty inmates, including Marsh. Charlie had never been notified.
"Some crap about early release due to over-crowding. He met all of the qualifications for early parole – model inmate, completed required counseling. Twenty inmates went home Thursday without a notification letter to the victims." The admin clerk at the Corrections Department, rattled by an enraged Forks police officer, had apologized profusely and insisted the letters were going out on Monday.
"Fuck." Jake rubbed his face with his free hand. "Okay… where is he now?"
"I haven't been able to reach his PO, but his mother moved to Port Angeles. I have no authority to keep tabs on him." Jake heard a loud boom in the background and Charlie curse under his breath. "I just need to get a hold of Bella. Maybe she can stay with a friend for a few days until I locate him and talk to the PO."
"I'll find her, Charlie. I'll tell her."
"Let me know when you do."
Jake hung up and gave Leah the short version, jumping back on the freeway. Normally picky about the way he drove her car, she said nothing about his flagrant disregard for the speed limit as they raced toward the loft.
x – x – x – x – x
Bella leaped over Tyler's still legs, a strangled sob catching in her throat. She moved backward, toward the tiny kitchen and bathroom. James followed slowly, taking his time, watching her gown flutter around her legs with great amusement. She circled the futon and kicked off her shoes by the bathroom. Once James was a safe distance from Edward, she dove for him, shaking his shoulder gently and speaking his name.
He lay face down on the floor, unmoving. Though they blinded her, she couldn't stop the tears from flooding her eyes and streaming down her face. She stroked his auburn hair, whispering apologies and begging him to wake up. Her fingers felt wet; she lifted them to find her hand smeared with blood. Abruptly, Bella vomited onto the floor.
James loomed over her, annoyed. "Why is it every time somebody gets a little bump on the head, you puke?"
She looked up dizzily. James stood behind the light, and it illuminated his eyes. They were bloodshot, but the same hard, cold shade of blue she'd dreamed of for the past three years. Her nightmares had finally come true. "I knew you'd come back," she said, more to herself than to him.
James tilted his head to the side, a familiar gesture that, paired with his voice, made Bella want to vomit all over again. "You miss me, baby?"
Was he serious? She couldn't tell, but shook her head anyway. "How did you find me?" she asked, surprised by the placidity of her voice.
"Not that many bike repair shops in the city, and only one with a tribal emblem as the company's logo. Nice website, actually." He closed the distance between them with one step, lifting her by her hair and dragging her past Tyler again, to the brick wall opposite the front door. He pressed his overheated body against her, eyeing her cleavage lecherously.
He smelled rancid and sweaty, his breath soured by stale cigarettes and cheap whiskey, and she gagged. "They told me you came here with that Indian bastard," he said calmly. Too calmly. "Tell me, did you even wait for my cell to slam shut on me before you went running to him? Hmm?" Sliding his hand down Bella's thigh, James grabbed a fistful of dress around her knee and hiked it up.
"You've really got everybody fooled, don't you." It wasn't a question, and he didn't need an answer. "The cops, the town, hell, even my own mother. Poor little Bella's big bad boyfriend hurt her." His tone became mocking. "She would never provoke him, she'd never cheat with the goon she spends all her fucking time with. They bought it all. But I knew better. I knew."
He nodded his head toward Edward, who was still sprawled out behind the green chair. "And who the fuck is this guy, anyway?" Bella's tranquil façade crumbled then, and she wailed, calling out Edward's name. She shoved at James' chest, trying to push him away. He ground his hips into her in response, pressing her arms against the wall. The jagged bricks scratched and dug into her skin.
James rocked his hips; Bella could feel his arousal through the thin jersey of her dress. His fetid breath was hot in her ear. "You get rid of the Indian like you got rid of me? Trade up for a rich California boy?" His voice got increasingly louder with each accusation. "Ruin my life and then move on and start a new one for yourself? How ambitious of you.
"You may be dressed like a high-priced whore, Bellarina, but you look the same to me." He let got of her hands, weaving his fingers into her now-tangled hair, and sniffed her head. She still smelled like sweet strawberries, a scent he'd recalled and jerked off to many a night behind bars. His voice became husky. "You smell the same to me."
Bella flashed back to the night of graduation; James had come up behind her that night, and sniffed her hair. The memory made her stomach clench and her head spin. As his grip in her hair tightened painfully, she thought of one morning in May she'd spent with Rosalie. Sliding her hand between her hip and his groin, she cupped James, letting him rock against her once with an approving moan before she squeezed him as hard as she could through his baggy jeans, twisting until her own wrist cried out at the strain.
James let out a stream of rather high-pitched expletives, folding over in pain and covering his groin with both hands. Bella scrambled away from the wall, tripping on the hem of her dress, and then Tyler's shoe. She began to cry, violent wracking sobs that left her breathless and shaking, fearful of a panic attack. Through her watery eyes she spotted her cell phone on the coffee table near Edward, and ran for it.
"Fuck!" she screamed at the device in her palm. The battery was dead. It occurred to her to make a run for it just before James snatched the phone out of her shaking hands. He tossed it across the room before backhanding her. She barely registered the sound of plastic shattering over the stinging fire spreading across her cheekbone.
"What the fuck did you do that for?" he spat.
Clutching her face, shivering and breathing so hard she was light-headed, she evaluated her situation. She was alone with a psychopath, with no way to get help. A casualty to her left and possibly another behind her, she was convinced she was going to die tonight. Inexplicably, Bella forced herself to breathe. With all the bravery she could feign, she wiped her tears and looked him in the eye. "Just get to the point, James. What do you want?"
It was only then that she realized he was holding a knife in his hand – and it wasn't one of hers. He limped toward her, waving it in her face.
"I just got out of prison, Bella," he sneered. "I wanted to taste freedom. Go on a road trip, see old friends. Kill the motherfucker who stole my girl. Seek vengeance for the three years of life I lost when you cried wolf to Officer Daddy."
Bella scooted backward and stood in one swift movement; a move she vaguely remembered Rosalie teaching her months ago. She glared at James, furious. "Cried wolf? You raped me and tried to kill me!" She shuddered a heavy breath, amazed at her nerve. The adrenaline coursing through her veins felt like six cups of coffee on an empty stomach, but more euphoric. She stood up to him. No matter what he did to her now, she had faced him and called him out. Too bad she'd never get the chance to tell Sue.
James, however, shook his head in agitation. "That's such bullshit! I just got a little carried away, that's all. You completely overreacted, in typical Bella fashion."
"You left me for dead."
He waved the knife around agitatedly, his face scrunched up in an angry grimace. "I was high as fuck. I was confused. That was a long time ago, Bella. Fuck."
His red-rimmed eyes tried to look everywhere at once, the skin on his arm was scratched raw, and he hadn't stood still for more than a minute since she walked in the door. It seemed to Bella that some things never changed.
He lunged toward her with his free hand, trying to grab her, and she flinched, backing up against the closet door. Her heart was pounding; it was hard to focus on anything. What should she do? What would Rosalie say? Unbelievably, all she could think of was the damn blackbird and the pepper spray she wished she still had.
Talk about Déjà vu.
When her gaze returned to Edward's still form lying behind the chair, hoping upon hope that he would open his eyes, James growled and lunged again. With nowhere to run, she screamed and blocked her face with her arms. His fist made contact with her left wrist, and she heard the crack before the pain shot all the way up to her elbow. Ignoring the knife now hooked into his belt, he wrapped his dirty fingers around her throat.
"We used to be so good together," he rasped, panting. "You remember? It was perfect. But you ruined it. You ruined everything."
His sweaty palms made it hard to get a good grip, and she tried to pull at his hands. She pushed against his chest. She tried to knee his groin. But he was too close, and too strong. Sucking in breaths when his hands slipped, she pictured Buster, all rubbery and calm, gashes and scratches and marks all over his body, some of which she'd put there herself, and cursed both Rosalie and her dummy. This was nothing like fighting Buster.
Bella went suddenly limp, and James involuntarily loosened his grip on her neck as her knees began to buckle. There was no time to enjoy his confusion as she abruptly stood back up, bringing her non-broken hand to his face. With a crazed growl, she dug her thumb into his eye.
His scream was violent, almost inhuman, as he shoved her away and clutched his face. Bella coughed and sputtered, trying to catch her breath as James blinked heavily. She ran to the door in hopes of escape.
No sooner did her fingers graze the doorknob than James had her by the hair again. "Fucking whore!" He flung her back toward the closet door, her elbow slamming against is and transmitting the pain down into her broken wrist. She cried out but remained upright.
She could already see a nasty pool of red creeping across the white of his eye. It was gross, and she had to look away. "What's the matter, James?" she asked, stalling. "Not as much fun when I fight back?"
He pulled the knife out of his belt and started toward her, his left eye squinted shut. "Fight back all you want, bitch. It won't change the ending."
She dove to the right, heading for the door again, but her hair was her downfall. James tore out a huge clump, just enough still attached to her scalp for him to yank her violently backwards. She slammed backward against his chest and felt the cool metal blade come to rest on her throat.
His voice was raspy, his hot breath inches from her ear. "Tyler was looking forward to seeing you after all this time. Told Mike so." He spun them around so they faced the two bodies lying on the floor. "No idea why he broke into your place and attacked you and that dead fucker by the door. The cops'll have a hell of a time figuring out why he slit your throat."
Bella swallowed audibly, and immediately regretted doing so; the blade dug into her, the cold steel branding her flesh.
"But you have become quite the little fighter, haven't you? Before he got you, you got in one good swing to his skull – thanks for keeping a baseball bat right by the door, that was very handy – a blow which, as you can see, he dies from."
So this was it. Her heart pounded in her ears, drowning out all other sounds, and she trembled, her eyes flooding with tears. She began to hyperventilate, imagining Jake finding her body Monday morning. Alice dressing her corpse. Charlie blaming himself. Rosalie's disappointment. Esme and Carlisle's heartbreak.
One of those things, though, she could actually change. She could go out fighting and do her teacher proud. In a desperate last-ditch effort, Bella reached back and clawed at James' face, managing to hook her fingers into his nostrils. Screaming, she yanked up with all her might, and he emitted a terrifying howl.
The knife sliced her just under her chin as he pulled away, giving her just enough range of motion to throw her entire body into a knife hand roundhouse, her strike gaining momentum as she spun around. She connected with the side of James' throat with a feral cry, slumping to the ground along with him as the front door was thrown open and deep voices echoed off the walls.
x – x – x – x – x
Several minutes later, Bella watched a pair of medics carry a breathing but unconscious Edward out the door on a stretcher. Another medic had placed Bella in the green chair to look at her jaw and wrist. The cut looked much worse than it was, he said, and applied bandages. Her fingers were already turning purple under the ice pack draped over her hand, and her dress was covered in blood.
"You still need to get to the hospital and have that stitched up," he said as another stretcher was brought in for her. Bella panicked. "No! No, I want to go with Edward. I need to ride with Edward!"
"Ma'am, he's already on his way. You'll be right behind him. Please." He gestured toward the stretcher.
Jake pulled up to the garage as her ambulance was pulling out. He parked on the street and raced up the stairs. An officer stopped him at the door, refusing to let him inside.
"What happened? Where's Bella?"
The officer demanded information and identification from Jake before giving a frighteningly vague description of events. He wouldn't even tell him Bella's condition. A macabre ballet was taking place inside the loft; Jake watched with horror as windbreaker-clad men danced around blood on the floor, snapping pictures and taking notes.
Leah followed him back to the car, chilled by the scene before her. Squad cars, a fire truck, a CSI van, a black Crown Victoria with a single light on the roof... this did not look like her boyfriend's former home. This did not look like his place of work. It looked like something out of a horror movie.
"What do we do?"
Jake's hands trembled against the steering wheel. "I need to call Charlie. I have to find Bella."
x – x – x – x – x
They found Bella and Edward at a hospital just a mile from the loft. They had to wait a half hour, but Jake was finally allowed into the ER. The curtain billowed behind him as he charged through it, wrapping Bella in his arms and squeezing her before she could even say his name. He held her for a long time, saying nothing, and Bella gripped him with her good hand, sobbing into his chest.
"I thought I lost you," he whispered, kissing her matted hair before releasing her. She wiped her nose and took a deep, jittery breath.
She looked like shit – hospital gown and leggings, arms scratched up, hand mottled and swollen, neck and hair crusted with blood, bruises on her throat, eyes puffy and red, her right eye more swollen than the left. It reminded him of her last trip to the hospital, three years prior, and he had to turn away for a minute to collect himself. He shook the thoughts from his head; she was fine. She would be okay.
But Charlie would lose his mind if he saw her like this.
Bella caught him wiping his eyes with his sleeves before he turned back toward her. She adjusted the icepack on her wrist and sighed tiredly. "He came back."
Jake nodded sadly. "I know."
"He killed Tyler." Jake had no idea who Tyler was. He squeezed her hand anyway.
"I thought Edward was dead," she whispered, and burst into tears. Jake reached for her again, crushing her to his chest.
"Is he okay?"
She'd sobbed with relief when the medic found a pulse, but he hadn't seemed to respond to anything. She tried to tell herself that she'd looked bad at first, that night three years ago, but she'd survived it. Unfortunately, that train of thought brought her right back to James and what happened tonight, and her sobs renewed. "I don't know. He's here, but they won't let me go see him. They want x-rays of my hand and face."
Jake nodded. He told Bella he'd called Charlie, who was on his way to the airport, and would be here by morning. He asked if he could do anything, call anybody, for her or for Edward.
"Esme and Carlisle are on their way, if not already here. But will you find him for me? See if he's alright?" Her pleading eyes filled with tears again. "Tell him I'm sorry?"
"No," Jake moaned, rubbing her back. "No. Bells, this is not your fault. This is not your fault." She shook in his arms, and he hoped they gassed that motherfucker when they found him.
He pulled away and carefully tilted her chin up toward him. His wary, apologetic expression scared Bella. She sucked in a jagged breath. "What?"
"Where is he?"
"Edward?"
"No."
"Oh. They took him to a different hospital, they said."
"They caught him, though?" Bella nodded. Then he realized what she said. "Why did they take him to the hospital?"
She chewed her lip and shrugged. "I kind of karate chopped him." Jake raised an eyebrow in confusion. "In the jugular."
Oh, shit. Jake made a mental note to kiss a certain bitchy blonde the next time he saw her.
x – x – x – x – x
By the time Jake found Edward, he'd been moved upstairs. He still wasn't conscious but they had stabilized him. His parents were huddled together beside his bed when he knocked on the door jam.
They were surprised to learn that Bella was here in the same hospital. Esme cried with relief when Jake said she was all right, and left the men, going downstairs to see her. Carlisle said Emmett, Rosalie, Jasper, and Alice were all down in the lobby.
When Bella was released two hours later, she practically ran through the hospital to get to Edward. Jake and Leah eventually moved to the lobby to wait with everyone else. Esme cradled Bella beside Edward's bed, and they both cried.
x – x – x – x – x
At the insistence of Esme and Carlisle, Bella stayed at the condo that night. A detective had declared her bloody dress evidence, and the shirt the hospital had given her to wear looked like something Goodwill threw away. She tossed it on the floor, digging through Edward's hamper for a shirt that smelled like him, and slipped it gingerly over her bandaged jaw and splinted hand. She crawled into his bed, but did not sleep. Instead she remembered the first time she'd slept there; it was the night she'd told him she loved him, the night she gave herself to him. The best night of her life.
She pressed Edward's pillow to her face. She focused on his scent, breathing slow, deep breaths, tuning out everything else. She didn't want to think about whether or not he was going to make it. She just wanted to remember that one perfect moment, when everything was right with the world.
She realized she'd dozed off when she awoke, just after 8am, from a confusing dream. In it, Edward was a doctor. He fixed Tyler's head, and he stitched up Bella's jaw, and when the ambulance arrived, he sent Bella away in it with Tyler even though she begged to stay with him, and they left James on the floor to die. She shook her head, trying to erase the images. Slowly, gingerly, she got up and showered, using the toothbrush and shampoo she now kept in his bathroom. The water was scalding, but not hot enough to remove the stain of James' fingers on her flesh. Edward didn't own a brush, so she'd bought one to keep there, too, and used it to coax out the tangles of the previous night before putting her leggings and Edward's shirt back on.
Everyone but Esme was in the kitchen when she got downstairs. Her father had arrived; eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot, he stood off to the side, quietly talking to Jake. There was a tray of pastries and a box of coffee on the island, and Alice had brought her a bag of clothes.
She was barely holding on to her sanity, between worrying about Edward and trying to make sense of the previous night, and though she appreciated the support, seeing the kitchen full of people didn't help. If anyone tried to hug her or ask her how she was doing, she knew she'd go to pieces. Thankfully, they seemed to realize this.
Charlie inspected her from across the room, and Bella did her best to ignore him. She was glad he was there, but she knew he had a million questions, and she wasn't ready to talk. He opened up the cupboard and pulled out a mug, filling it with coffee. Grimacing as he caught a close-up look at the bruises on her throat, he placed it on the island in front of her, next to the cream and sugar, and stepped back against the counter.
The mug was blue with a green check mark. The handle had broken at some point and been glued back on, the ceramic stained where the glaze had cracked over the years. Bella stared at it for a long moment before bursting into tears.
The men looked at each other, in various levels of confusion and panic. Alice moved to comfort Bella, but was waved off by Rosalie. She removed the cup from Bella's line of sight, mouthing "Edward's favorite" before taking her friend by the hand and leading her upstairs.
"I'm sorry," Bella mumbled, flopping down on the bed. Rosalie sat next to her and sighed.
"You're entitled to fall apart right now."
Bella buried her face in her hands and wept. "Why won't he wake up?"
Rosalie cocked an eyebrow. "Maybe you should try being happy that you're alive, for just two minutes. Can you try that?"
Bella sniffled and shook her head.
"I got the gist of what happened last night. Do you realize how fortunate you are?"
Bella was still trying to process it all; everything had happened so quickly. But the details would get mixed up in her head with the ones from before, and then she'd see Edward lying on the floor and Tyler in a puddle of blood and she'd lose it all over again. The only thoughts that didn't drive her to tears were the ones of Rosalie.
"You were with me," Bella whispered after a few minutes. "In my head, instructing me."
She was aware that she was lucky to be alive. James had been high and pissed off, and he'd come to kill her, like she knew he would. Rosalie had taught her the knife hand move only once, after Bella had asked if there was really a way to kill a man with your bare hands, like they did on TV. She'd been calm but frighteningly serious as she explained that it was a life-and-death move she should only ever use as a last resort.
"You saved my life." She looked at Rosalie then, who shook her head, denying Bella's assertion. "I didn't hit him right, or hard enough, I guess… it didn't kill him. But I'm alive because of you."
Rosalie wanted to tell Bella she saved herself, but the words stuck in her throat. Instead, she squeezed her friend's hand.
"Rosie!" Emmett's frantic voice echoed up the stairwell. The girls jumped off the bed; Bella took the stairs two at a time with Rosalie right on her heels. When they reached the kitchen, Alice was sobbing, jumping up and down in front of Jasper. Emmett was leaned over the kitchen sink. Leah and Jake were wrapped up in each other's arms. Charlie stood in awkwardly in the corner next to Carlisle, who was on the phone with Esme.
Bella's eyes filled with tears. "What's going on? What happened?"
Emmett spun around and took three long strides to Rosalie. He lifted her off the ground, a grin spreading across his face, and clutched his fiancé to his chest. "He's awake, baby."
Bella looked at the phone in Carlisle's hand, and then at both fathers. Carlisle hung up the phone and nodded in confirmation. "He's asking for you."
Time to queue The Doors… 'cause this is the end of the story. There WILL be an epilogue, in a few weeks or so. If you enjoyed this story, I'd appreciate you recc'ing it, tell your friends, tell your neighbors…
Not sure when I'll start up another fan fic, because I'm actually working on a novel right now, but if you follow me on Twitter (moxieandmirth) I'll make sure to keep you updated!
One last thing: Please take a moment to check out the following website, which will show you (with pictures) how a knife hand strike is done, so if you're ever in a situation where you'd need it, you'll be able to use it. (remove spaces):
http:/ www. selfdefense-4-women .com/ knife-hand-strike .html