I'm not Stephenie Meyer. This story is written for entertainment, not profit...don't sue me. Pretty please?
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I've volunteered to write a (sexy) Victim one-shot in support of our friends in Australia in participation with the "Fandoms Fights the Floods" inititive. Over 200 authors have donated their time to this cause. They're compiling hundreds of one shots and the like. For a $5 (or more) donation to the charity of your choice (that is helping with the victims of the floods in Queensland), you will get a copy of this compilation emailed to you!
(My one-shot is a citrusy adventure in the kitchen for our beloved Edward and Bella. It will be a bit more raunchy than my other lemons...donate!)
For more information, please go to fandomsfightthefloods [.] blogspot [.] com
As always, thanks to Meghan for beta'ing and letting me talk out scenarios. Love you, hetero-lifemate!
Ok, here we go. What we've allllll been waiting for; the confrontation. I'm biting my nails over here awaiting your response to this one...let me know if this was what you expected. It took me FOREVER to write because I just wasn't sure if it was perfect...
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He locked the door and brought his hand to my cheek slowly as I turned and put my back flat against the door. "I knew you'd come," he said, appearing to be sniffing my hair as he drew closer to me.
Symphonie Fantastique continued to wail from somewhere in the house, giving the dark house an ominous feeling that I had a physical reaction to.
I couldn't stop my trembling body. Nothing was working; my hands wouldn't move, my breaths came in short spurts, and I just couldn't look away from him. I almost couldn't blink because his presence alone, for lack of a better word, hypnotised me just as it used to, kept my feet planted in place and my eyes glued to his.
The only thing I could do was say his name.
"J-James," I stuttered quietly, unsure of why I said it. Maybe it was to confirm to myself that this wasn't some horrible nightmare—I knew he was standing before me. As much as I wished it wasn't true, he really was there, staring at me with his carnal gaze.
How had he found me? How long had he known that I was alive?
Even in the eerie moonlight, I could see his sadistic smile dropping and his head tilting to the right, regarding me curiously.
"You remember my name, do you?" he asked sarcastically, the acid seeping into his tone. "That's interesting, since you seem to have forgotten your own. Bella," he sneered, "is NOT your name." His voice grew louder with each word, drowning out the instrumental music easily. He pulled away from me just enough to look me up and down. He looked down at my belly, his eyes lingering there far too long for my liking.
I watched as his nostrils flared and his eyes squinted ever so slightly; he was no doubt furious that I was pregnant with another man's baby. He was going to unleash his fury upon me at any moment. I knew it by the look in his eyes; they were almost bestial in their ferocity.
I had to protect my son from this monster, no matter the cost, so I wrapped my arms around my midsection in a feeble—and probably futile—attempt.
Instead of punching or kicking me, the back of his hand came crashing down on my cheek, the force of the slap sending me to the ground.
I landed on my side, letting my arm break my fall. I cried out as I fell down, not because I was in pain, but shock at my landing. Thankfully, I hadn't landed in a way that had hurt the baby. I still had my free arm around my stomach, trying in any way to protect him from James.
James crouched down before me and yanked my hair painfully toward him, upward. He held me with a familiarity that chilled me to the bone; he had had me countless times in this same position—him pulling me off the floor by my hair.
He and I were at eye level now. As he spoke, I felt his disgustingly hot breath on my already-swelling cheek and shuddered.
I thought I would never again have to smell his sickly-sweet breath, feel it against my cheek, look upon his enraged face, and feel his rough hands on me at all. I thought my life with him was over. I thought my time being scared for my life was done because I was a new person here...
But my new reality was slowly sinking in.
He had found me. Somehow, despite all our best efforts to conceal me in a strange, new town, he'd found me. Regardless of the way in which I attempted to change my appearance, the new name Carlisle chose for me, my new life here in Forks, everything had failed and he had come for me anyway.
He'd come to kill me. This I knew for sure by the way he watched me, like I was an ant he was about to burn with a magnifying glass. His eyes, like my beloved Edward's, told a story, too; the wild and furious glint that reflected back at me told me how I was going to die tonight if he got his way—slowly, torturously, and painfully.
I couldn't let that happen. Not without a fight.
My baby, our baby, was depending on me to keep him safe. I had to stay strong and keep him talking until I could get something to hit him with or knock him out with just long enough to make an escape.
"I thought you were smarter than this, Marie. Faking your own death, shacking up with some bastard..." he paused, shaking his head. He glanced down and his eyes fell upon my left hand, where my engagement ring sat on my finger. His eyes flashed with rage and returned to my face. "What the FUCK is this? You know, bigamy is a crime, Marie." He pulled my hand up off the ground just enough to yank the ring straight off of my hand and throw it forcefully behind him. I heard it clatter off the wall in the distance right around the same time James slammed his steel-toed boot onto my left wrist, crushing bones and tearing flesh without remorse or a second thought. The pain as he indisputably broke the bones in my wrist spiked through my entire body, and I let out a gut-wrenching scream.
When he continued, he sounded sympathetic, like he was admonishing a small child who should have known better. "Did you think I would just let you leave me? Did you think that I wouldn't find you?" When my only answer was the shaking of my body, my continuous whimpering, and the falling tears from my eyes, he snapped. "I asked you a fucking question!" he bellowed in my face, pulling my hair, and me, higher off the ground. My broken wrist screeched in protest of the movement. I whimpered in pain, already too fatigued by the agony shooting up and down my arm to even scream anymore. It fell limply at my side as he pulled my body off the ground.
He was completely unhinged. His mood swings were unnerving; one minute, he was calm and almost gentle, and the next, he was yelling at the top of his lungs and swearing. The volatility of his actions horrified me all the more. Who knew what other bones he was willing to break tonight, or worse.
"No, no, no," I stammered, my eyes wildly searching the foyer for something hard or pointy to attack him with. There was a small hallway table a few feet away from us, but there was nothing useful upon it. Besides that, I found nothing that was easily reachable.
He lowered my head to the ground and returned to his feet, standing above me. If he wanted to at that moment, he could have kicked me in the stomach. I tried to roll to face my back to him, despite the indescribable pain in my wrist, but he stopped me, dragging me up by my right forearm and lifting me to my feet. He pulled my hand and was about to drag me up the stairs.
"What are you going to do? J...James...please...please don't hurt my baby," I begged as we were about to ascend the stairs. He spun toward me and pushed me against the wall, pinning me there by the shoulders, again eying my protruding belly.
"That should be MY baby," he spat, "you filthy, cheating whore!" He slapped me again, this time on my left cheek. My hands went over my face and I felt my tears mixing with the blood that was surely seeping from the cut the first slap had created. It was then that I felt his hands wrap themselves around my neck, squeezing enough to make me lightheaded. I tried to pry his hands off my neck to no avail.
"I've been watching you for a few months now, seeing you live this lie, pretending to be this other woman, going through the motions as if you aren't someone else's wife," he spat acidly. "It's made me sick to my fucking stomach to watch you parade around this town."
Months? I thought horrified. How had he stayed undetected? I never had any suspicion that someone was watching me, let alone James. Well, I had had a feeling at the Fair a few months back...and two days ago at the grocery store...could it have been that he was behind my 'paranoid' feelings both those times? I felt the blood drain from my face at the realization that I had felt James watching me; I hadn't been crazy at all. He had actually been watching me from a distance all this time—watching me with Edward at home and probably watching me as I worked at Forks Elementary...
"You may fool your co-workers, and the rest of your new family, but you can't fool yourself into believing you're anyone else but Marie Huntington, my wife. And you certainly can't fool me. You. Are. Mine," he said slowly, accentuating each word before continuing, "You've been mine since I married you, and you'll be mine forever!"
No, no, no, it can't end like this, I thought as my mind began getting fuzzy from lack of oxygen and the pain still shooting up my arm from my wrist. I had to do something for him to release me. From where I was standing, I was almost exactly between his legs, so I took my only opportunity to get away and lifted my knee hard into his groin. Instantly as I made contact, his hands released my neck and he doubled over in pain, gripping his groin with a grimace.
"You fucking bitch!" he shouted in surprise. I had never fought back against him before, so he had had no reason to suspect I would start now. "I'm gonna fucking kill you!" he yelled as I gathered my bearings and walked as quickly as my belly would allow toward the door for the second time. A few deep breaths helped my dizziness to fade, but I knew I wasn't making my escape fast enough because I heard James stalking down the hallway behind me. Thankfully, my head was clear enough that I thought to run towards the kitchen instead and grab whatever I could find to defend myself.
I ran as fast as I could—being pregnant and still trying to shake my dizziness didn't help me make my escape any faster—down the hall, all the while, hearing James' swearing and loud footsteps as he followed.
Just then, the music ended. Before, when that music played, my fear was heightened. But now, with its grand ending, the sudden silence that swept over the house was so much worse than the chords and rises and falls of the majestic song. It was as if the end was near for me.
"There's nowhere to run, Marie," he called tauntingly as he drew closer behind me. I got to the cutlery drawer and pulled out the first rather large chef's knife I could find. It had a straight edge and a sharp tip. I turned with it in my right hand unsteadily just in time for James to come within inches of being impaled on it. He raised his hands up and smirked condescendingly.
"What are you going to do with that, Marie? You know you can't hurt me."
I gulped loudly and took as deep a breath I could manage given my current state. "Try me, James."
He chuckled confidently. "I know you better than anyone in this entire world. You are my wife. I know you can't stand the sight of blood. Remember the time you fainted the time I sliced my finger on that glass I dropped when we first moved into our house? After you came to, you begged me to get stitches, but I refused," he recalled gently, taking a small step toward me. He reminded me of a lion, stalking his prey, and it terrified me. With the terror, though, I realized that my fight or flight reflex was leaning toward fight, and if it came down to it, I would have to stab James. He continued, "You won't hurt me, anymore than you already have, Marie." He took another step. "I've been looking for you for so long now." I took a step backward towards the counter, trying to keep our distance equal, but I had run out of room for that. He was far too close for comfort. The knife in my hand began to shake violently, despite my pep talk about having to stab him if need be. James saw this and his smirk grew. He took another step, placing the tip of the knife flush with his chest, confident that I didn't have the strength—both physical and mental—to stab him with it.
"It's a good thing I found you when I did," James continued softly, like he was trying to talk a suicidal person off a ledge. "I was starting to lose hope." His voice was low, but I knew he was being sardonic; he sounded sympathetic and relieved to see me, but I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was just acting to confuse me. There was no confusion, however. He wanted to teach me a lesson for leaving him. He wanted to end me, but he was going to toy with me first. I was certain of it.
"Step back!" I cried, realizing I was probably done for now.
In the far distance, I heard a dog barking incessantly. I wondered for a brief moment whether it was Bolt barking, but didn't have enough time to listen intently before James spoke again, reminding me of the situation at hand.
"Why would I do that, my love?" Again, his voice was soft, non-threatening, but I couldn't help the shudder that ran through my body at his words. The undercurrent of his words was anything but loving. Besides, I would only be one person's love, and that was Edward.
"I'm not your love!" I spat, albeit unconvincingly. "You never loved me! You hurt me, belittled me, tortured me, raped me, and left me bruised and battered. That's not love!" I couldn't believe my own words. They flowed out without a filter, allowing everything I ever wanted to say to him to spew out uninhibited. If I was going to die that night, I would at least tell him everything I had bottled up within me during our years together.
He narrowed his eyes further and opened his mouth to reply when we heard a knock at the door. Not just any knock. Three knocks in succession; it was Edward.
I was about to scream for him when James grabbed the knife I had been wielding at him and suddenly pulled me toward him with my back to his chest. I felt the cool metal of the knife pressed roughly against my neck and gasped.
"Shut the fuck up, or the last thing you'll see is your precious Edward's lifeless body on this linoleum."
My tears fell quickly and heavily down my cheeks at the thought of never seeing Edward again or having our baby.
"Please," I whimpered, as all the strength in me began to fade. With the terror and the now throbbing pain in my arm, I felt tired and hopeless; it was suffocating. He gripped the knife and pressed it harder to the side of my neck, giving me a small cut that began to seep blood; I felt the hot, syrupy fluid dripping slowly down my neck, making me shudder at the sensation.
"I said shut the fuck up!" he whispered furiously. Edward knocked again.
"Bella, love, you in there?"
I heard a growl come from James. "Fucking tool," he muttered, pushing me toward the front door.
"James—"
"Talk again and I will kill him. I guarantee you," he whisper-yelled. I whimpered at his words and let him push me all the way to the door. Edward knocked again.
"Sweetie?"
"Tell him you're fine. Say it or he dies," James whispered in my ear. "I suggest that you choose your words wisely."
I nodded as best I could with the knife still pressing against my neck, and cleared my throat, hoping my voice wasn't as shaky as I felt.
"I-I'm fine, Eddie," I called, hoping my use of the nickname he detested would signal to him that I was in deep trouble. "I'll be home in a few minutes." My voice wavered only once, but I thought it sounded more like I was sleepy rather than being under duress. "I thought I saw something through the window...I just wanted to check the house. Nothing, though."
"You sure? Want me to take a look? I don't have to be back to the hospital right away. I forgot a report in my office at home, and I'm using my lunch break to grab it," he said, concern lacing his tone.
"No, no, that's ok. I'm nearly done here. Go back home." I sighed as I felt James nodding behind me. "I love you," I almost whispered, my voice cracking at the end. This was the last time I could tell him that, I knew. James wasn't pleased with it; I winced as the blade dug into my skin again, causing me to almost yelp in pain.
"Love you, too, babe. See you in a little bit then." Edward had believed me; I could tell by the undisturbed way he had spoken. My use of his most hated nickname did nothing to alert him to the danger I was in. The absolute terror I was feeling began to engulf me as the situation was quickly overwhelming me.
I was scared for myself, sure, but most of my fear was reserved for the safety of my baby; if I died, it was a near-certain bet that Nathaniel would, too.
It really was hopeless.
The sound of Edward's unhurried steps off the porch was heard. James began pushing me toward the living room then, his back to the front door.
"Very convincing Marie; except for the end." He dropped the knife on the carpeted floor of the living room and spun me around to face him. I hadn't noticed what he was wearing before, but I now saw he was wearing a black leather jacket, a white, stained t-shirt, and dark wash jeans. I had never seen him dressed that casually before, even on his days off. His dirty blond hair, which had previously been closely shorn and clean, was now down to his cheek and oily. It looked like he hadn't slept in days, weeks even. All in all, he looked haggard. His eyes were those of a mad man, even more so than normal, darting back and forth and not focusing on one thing in particular, except for my eyes and my belly. He looked agitated, like a caged animal.
I knew that look. I had seen it many times before; he was about to unleash his anger upon me fully.
He grabbed me by the throat again, holding tightly, and lifted me up off the floor an inch. I tried uselessly to pull his hands off, scraping my nails on his arm in the process.
"I've dreamed of this moment for a long time, Marie. I'm going to make you pay for leaving me. For making me believe I was a widower, for all the pity and words of sympathy I had to endure over this past year. For everything. I'm going to take you out of this shithole town and we're going down south, where no one will recognize us, and no one will hear you scream."
"What? No, please," I started to beg, choking. "This is my home...I belong here..." I started trailing off. Everything got hazy as his grip tightened.
"Your home is where I tell you it is. You're mine. Never forget that, Marie," he sneered into my face. "I'm going to make damned sure that you never forget that."
Right before everything faded to black, there was a loud bang accompanied by shouting, jolting me to awareness.
"Freeze!"
I snapped out of my haze when James loosened his hold on me at the noise. He pulled me toward him with my back to his chest again and dug into his jacket. My worst fears came to fruition; he pulled out a gun and brought it swiftly against my temple.
I still hadn't seen who had yelled until James pushed me forward, out of the living room and back into the foyer, where Emmett and Edward stood. Emmett was wearing a policeman's uniform and was pointing a gun at James and me. I had never known that Emmett was a police officer. Then again, I had never really asked. I didn't have time to feel regretful for not taking more interest in Emmett's career, though, because there was a gun pointed at my head, and it was being wielded by my psychotic husband.
"Oh my God! Bella!" Edward cried when he saw me in James' arms. His eyes appraised me from where he stood; I knew he saw the dishevelled state I was in, and the odd way I clutched at my broken arm, not to mention my swollen cheeks and the cuts there. His face was filled with terror for me, and anger at James.
"Don't do anything stupid, buddy," Emmett called calmly with his free arm in front of him and his palm out. Despite his calm demeanour, I could tell that he was nervous that James' gun still pointed to my head.
"My name is James, but I don't think we know each other well enough for us to be on a first name basis yet," James shouted tauntingly at Emmett. He turned his head slightly, tilting it to the side to look at Edward with contempt. "But I know you very well, Edward," he spat out Edward's name in distaste, like it was rotten fruit. "Mr. Soon-to-be-Doctor. You're the one who's been fucking my wife."
Edward gasped at hearing James confirm his identity and grimaced angrily.
"She stopped being your wife the day you laid your goddamned hands on her!" Edward burst. "I swear to Christ, if you hurt her, I will fucking kill you myself!" He stepped forward, but Emmett put his arm out and stopped him.
I was shocked by his language, but I had never seen him so scared before. It must have been his defence mechanism.
I felt James chuckle at Edward's outburst.
"Are you crazy? Stop, Edward!" Emmett pleaded adamantly to Edward. He turned his full attention back to us. His professional demeanour returned as he looked at James steadily. "This is a situation you can't control. If you pull that trigger, you will be signing your death warrant. I can guarantee that, man. Put down the gun and let Bella go. Now."
James chuckled confidently. "I can't control this situation? Sure I can," he scoffed. "You both are here to save this whore," he said acidly, shaking me for effect, which moved the gun against my temple back and forth. Edward's eyes widened and I knew he was silently begging me to stay strong. "And I'm here to make her pay for thinking she can leave me. As long as she's in my hands, I have all the control I need."
It was then that I knew for certain that my seconds were numbered. The sound of his voice told me that; he was a man who had no regard for his own wellbeing any longer. He was no longer on a recovery mission; he was now on a kamikaze mission, and I was the target. "Now, I ask you, what better way is there to make her pay than to do this?" James took the gun away from my head and aimed it at the one place a bullet would truly destroy me: straight at Edward's head. "She always was too emotional for me. Always so weak, always letting her heart make decisions for her. I'm sure she's in love with you, so this bullet right here will do the most damage, once it's in your fucking head."
"James! Please, don't do this!" I begged, trying to pull on the arm that pointed the gun at Edward. "You want me! You don't want to hurt them. I'll go wherever you want me to go with you. Just don't hurt them!"
"No, Bella," Edward cried. "You can't!"
"I can't live with the knowledge you were hurt because of me," I reasoned, my tears continuing to flow steadily down my face.
"Oh, shut up, both of you!" James whined exasperatedly, cocking the gun and shifting the aim back to me.
"James, you don't want a death on your conscience. Believe me, man," Emmett tried to reason with him again, taking one small step forward. At this, James snickered; he saw right through Emmett's attempt at appealing to the humanity in him.
"Ha, you think I haven't killed before? This ain't my first rodeo, buddy."
"What?" I exclaimed in shock. James nodded slowly.
"My mom was a whore just like you, Bella; fucking around on my dad whenever she got the chance. Finally her guilt overcame her and she came home one night and confessed to him. I overheard the whole story and was devastated, but only for a brief moment until I heard that my dad wasn't fighting her or getting angry. He resigned himself to her infidelity and took it like the pussy he was! He began crying and asked her to sit with him and talk. He was going to forgive her! I got so fucking pissed off..." he recounted, huffing at the memory. "I got the gun my mom used for protection from her nightstand and shot them both."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. And apparently, neither could Edward or Emmett. Their jaws dropped open as they heard the story.
"But...you told me they were killed in a home invasion..." I muttered quietly.
"I set up the living room like a movie I had seen. Down to the broken doorframe and moving the bodies right away so they'd have rigor in positions consistent with my description of the event. I stashed the gun somewhere no one would find it. I took some valuable-looking things from the living room and hid a shitload of jewellery that was kept in the house to make it look like a robbery."
James still had the gun pointed at me, and recalled the story without wavering.
I suspected before that he was crazy, but now I saw that he truly was the epitome of evil, to kill his own parents without any remorse or feeling except for hatred and satisfaction.
"It worked out in my favour, I must say," James continued with a dark smile. "The life insurance and house more than paid my way through college and law school. Not to mention all the sympathy I got from such a tragic event happening to such a young kid."
"I can't believe I felt sorry for you!" I burst unexpectedly. "You...you always spoke so highly about your parents! You always made it sound as if their murder was what drove you to apply to law school!"
"In a manner of speaking, it was. Still, they deserved it. Just like that funeral home director. He confessed everything to me before I put a bullet between his eyes."
I gasped again, recalling the nice man who helped me into the car before Esme drove me to New York and then to Washington state.
"He's dead?" I asked. My tears, which had slowed down, came back with a vengeance.
"Yup, and he was pretty forthcoming with information once he thought I wouldn't kill him." James smiled proudly at my reaction. He tilted his head. "What's wrong, Marie?" he asked, smirking when he saw the tears falling freely from my eyes now. "Ah, there's the weak, emotional girl I married." He leered, and gently stroked the muzzle of the gun down my cheek.
"You son of a bitch," I heard Edward mumble angrily.
"I must admit, though," James continued sardonically, tightening his hold on me, "that I did fail in taking care of your precious parents, a failing I am looking forward to rectifying personally."
My parents.
James had been responsible for the arson that destroyed my childhood home and nearly killed my parents.
"You bastard!" I screamed, beginning again to struggle against his strong grip. "They almost died! I..." I couldn't continue talking because my sobs stopped me. This seemed to only spur James on further.
"They deserved to die! They kept you from me! They should have told me that you lived when they found out. Instead, they kept your secret and allowed you to pursue your life of sin with this bastard," he replied, shaking me forcefully. "And don't think I've forgotten your parents, Eddie. The funeral director didn't tell me anything, but I found some encrypted emails between him and your father that told me everything I needed to know. Once I'm finished here, I'm going to make sure they regret helping her escape me. They'll get the worst of my wrath...well, aside from Marie here." Edward tried to take a step towards us as he watched me being jostled back and forth by my crazed husband. Emmett put his hand on Edward's arm to calm him, shook his head and looked at James and me.
"James, this needs to end. Now. Put down the gun and the three of us will walk out of here. We won't follow you. No one has to die tonight," Emmett attempted once more. I knew it wouldn't work, though. I was watching James as Emmett tried to talk to him. James was beyond reasoning.
He shook his head and glanced at Emmett and Edward. "Oh that's where you're mistaken, Officer Cullen," James leered lowly. "Someone definitely dies tonight."
A/N:
Wow. *wipes sweat from forehead and anticipates a lot of reviews*
What did you think about that? I hope it met all your expectations. I'm nearly done the next chapter, but it won't be out for at least a week...I need to make sure it's flawless.
