Title: Twisted
Disclaimer: I own nothing. The characters belong to John Wells, Edward Allan Bernero, NBC and a bunch of other people I don't know.
Rating: R for language and violence
Feedback: Well, it will make me write faster ;)
Chapter 8
Angela moaned as she slowly regained consciousness. Her head throbbed painfully and she could feel bile rise up from within. She grimaced, swallowing it down, desperately trying to keep it at bay. For a second she wondered where she was, having forgotten, but soon vivid images assaulted her. Visions of her son, as he lay face down on the ground, and then the silhouette of her attacker. She bolted upright; her eyes popping open in fear. Her first thought was that she had to be sure her son was all right. The sudden movement however caused her head to lurch and she groaned in pain, as her head felt as though it was being split in two. She tried to lift her hand, attempting to hold her head in it and was surprised when her other hand rose up as well. Blinking back the dizziness that was threatening to overpower her, she focused on her hands, realizing for the first time that they were bound together. Fear stabbed at her as she finally took in her surroundings. She saw that she was in a dimly lit room. Squinting, she gazed around, taking in the small bedroom, trying to make out its contents as best she could. She looked down and saw that she was lying on a bed. She was just about to try and get up when her attacker stepped out of the shadows.
"Hello, Angela." The man said softly as he gazed upon her. "I was hoping that you'd wake up soon. We have so much time to make up for."
"Who the hell are you?" Angela cried out, failing to recognize him. "What the hell have you done with my Maurice?!" She shouted hysterically.
The man's gaze hardened, his jaw clenched, as he glared at her. "Your Maurice?" The man said coldly. "Your Maurice?!" He shouted, his voice echoing throughout the room causing Angela to jump at the sound. "He's not yours, Angela. He was never yours! Don't you see that? You're mine, Angela. You and I are meant to be together." His loud voice boomed, sending shivers of fear through her body. "You're better off without him. Don't you see?" He said softly, "We're perfect for one another, Angela. He was disillusioning you, trying to keep us apart. But I couldn't let that happen. Ever since I'd first laid eyes on you I knew we were meant to be together, just like I know that deep down you feel it too. He's been blinding you, he's brainwashed you, but you don't have to worry about him anymore, my love. Don't you see?" He pleaded his voice desperate. "You and I can finally be together, just like we're supposed to be." Angela stared at the man, icy tendrils of fear gripping her as she took in the lunatic before her. Dread filled her as she took in his words.
"What did you do to Maurice?" She asked him, her voice small and trembling, scared to hear the answer. She held her breath, saying a silent prayer that her son was all right. The man's eyes hardened in anger as he once more took in his soulmate. Why can't she see that he's not important, he wondered?
"He's dead." The man said, his voice lacking any emotion.
"No." Angela said, shaking her head violently back and forth, refusing to believe what the man was telling her. "No, you're wrong." Angela said, her voice sounding small and lost. "You're wrong. He's fine. Maurice is fine." She repeated, refusing to accept what the man was telling her.
"No. He's not!" The man screamed as he stalked towards her. He roughly grabbed her by the upper arms, his hands digging into the soft flesh. "He's dead, Angela. He's dead. I killed him with my own hands." He said, his face livid, his eyes wild.
"No. Oh God, please no." Angela sobbed as the reality of what the man before her was saying finally sunk in. She felt cold inside, empty, knowing that her son was gone - dead because of her. Sobs racked her body as she hung her head down in sorrow. She gasped for breath as a sob caught in her throat.
The man stared down before him stunned at her violent reaction to the news that he had killed this Maurice person. Why the hell did she care so much? They were not meant for each other, didn't she see that? He shook her violently back and forth, trying in vain to knock some sense into her, to make her see the truth. That this Maurice character was nothing to her, but it was all in vain. As he watched her sobbing before him, rage filled him and he quickly swung his arm back, backhanding her across the face. Angela's head swung back from the blow, as a small trail of blood trickled out of the corner of her mouth. She stared at her captor in shock, her eyes glazed over from pain and sorrow. The man stared back at her, shocked at his own response, not that he had hit her, but that he had felt pleasure in doing so. A thought hit him and he desperately tried to shoo it away, not wanting to entertain the possibility for even a brief second. However, the possibility would not leave him alone. He gazed at her for a moment, before backing away. She's not the one, the voice said in his head, the one he had heard numerous times in his past.
"Yes she is!" The man said furiously, his teeth clenched in anger. Angela stared at him in fear, not understanding what the man was talking about.
You know she's not. She's an impostor just like the others.
"She is not!" The man yelled as he reached his hands up and covered his ears, trying in vain to prevent the voice from assaulting him.
She lied just like all the others. She played you, you stupid, pathetic excuse for a human being. You can't do anything right. You should never have been born.
"Shut up!!!" The man yelled, his eyes squeezed shut.
She used you, you stupid fool! She used you just like all the others. You're pathetic you know that?
"I am not." The man hissed through clenched teeth, trying desperately to make the voice go away.
Yes you are, the voice said angry. You never should have been born, you worthless little piece of shit. The world would have been better of without you.
"Shut up!" The man shouted, his voice taking on a high-pitched air.
You know what you have to do now, don't you?
"No." The man whispered, not wanting to hear the answer he already knew.
You have to kill her; it's the only way.
"I won't do it." The man said feebly.
You have to. It's the only option, the voice said.
The man opened his eyes and gazed down sadly at the frightened woman bound before him. He opened his mouth a few times, in a feeble attempt to say something. A moment later, he bolted up the stairs, slamming the hatch to the cellar behind him, in his haste forgetting to lock it. A moment later, the front door slammed shut and he quickly made his way to his car, desperately needing to clear his head.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Angela stared at the man in terror and confusion as she heard him arguing with himself. Fear gripped her as she realized that she was going to die at the hands of the madman before her. She gasped in relief as she saw him run out of the room, slamming the door behind him. A moment later, she heard the front slam shut and she sobbed in relief as the realization that the man was gone - at least for the time being. She sank back down on the bed in relief before struggling to sit back up again. This was her chance, her only chance, to get out of this hellhole alive.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. The characters belong to John Wells, Edward Allan Bernero, NBC and a bunch of other people I don't know.
Rating: R for language and violence
Feedback: Well, it will make me write faster ;)
Chapter 8
Angela moaned as she slowly regained consciousness. Her head throbbed painfully and she could feel bile rise up from within. She grimaced, swallowing it down, desperately trying to keep it at bay. For a second she wondered where she was, having forgotten, but soon vivid images assaulted her. Visions of her son, as he lay face down on the ground, and then the silhouette of her attacker. She bolted upright; her eyes popping open in fear. Her first thought was that she had to be sure her son was all right. The sudden movement however caused her head to lurch and she groaned in pain, as her head felt as though it was being split in two. She tried to lift her hand, attempting to hold her head in it and was surprised when her other hand rose up as well. Blinking back the dizziness that was threatening to overpower her, she focused on her hands, realizing for the first time that they were bound together. Fear stabbed at her as she finally took in her surroundings. She saw that she was in a dimly lit room. Squinting, she gazed around, taking in the small bedroom, trying to make out its contents as best she could. She looked down and saw that she was lying on a bed. She was just about to try and get up when her attacker stepped out of the shadows.
"Hello, Angela." The man said softly as he gazed upon her. "I was hoping that you'd wake up soon. We have so much time to make up for."
"Who the hell are you?" Angela cried out, failing to recognize him. "What the hell have you done with my Maurice?!" She shouted hysterically.
The man's gaze hardened, his jaw clenched, as he glared at her. "Your Maurice?" The man said coldly. "Your Maurice?!" He shouted, his voice echoing throughout the room causing Angela to jump at the sound. "He's not yours, Angela. He was never yours! Don't you see that? You're mine, Angela. You and I are meant to be together." His loud voice boomed, sending shivers of fear through her body. "You're better off without him. Don't you see?" He said softly, "We're perfect for one another, Angela. He was disillusioning you, trying to keep us apart. But I couldn't let that happen. Ever since I'd first laid eyes on you I knew we were meant to be together, just like I know that deep down you feel it too. He's been blinding you, he's brainwashed you, but you don't have to worry about him anymore, my love. Don't you see?" He pleaded his voice desperate. "You and I can finally be together, just like we're supposed to be." Angela stared at the man, icy tendrils of fear gripping her as she took in the lunatic before her. Dread filled her as she took in his words.
"What did you do to Maurice?" She asked him, her voice small and trembling, scared to hear the answer. She held her breath, saying a silent prayer that her son was all right. The man's eyes hardened in anger as he once more took in his soulmate. Why can't she see that he's not important, he wondered?
"He's dead." The man said, his voice lacking any emotion.
"No." Angela said, shaking her head violently back and forth, refusing to believe what the man was telling her. "No, you're wrong." Angela said, her voice sounding small and lost. "You're wrong. He's fine. Maurice is fine." She repeated, refusing to accept what the man was telling her.
"No. He's not!" The man screamed as he stalked towards her. He roughly grabbed her by the upper arms, his hands digging into the soft flesh. "He's dead, Angela. He's dead. I killed him with my own hands." He said, his face livid, his eyes wild.
"No. Oh God, please no." Angela sobbed as the reality of what the man before her was saying finally sunk in. She felt cold inside, empty, knowing that her son was gone - dead because of her. Sobs racked her body as she hung her head down in sorrow. She gasped for breath as a sob caught in her throat.
The man stared down before him stunned at her violent reaction to the news that he had killed this Maurice person. Why the hell did she care so much? They were not meant for each other, didn't she see that? He shook her violently back and forth, trying in vain to knock some sense into her, to make her see the truth. That this Maurice character was nothing to her, but it was all in vain. As he watched her sobbing before him, rage filled him and he quickly swung his arm back, backhanding her across the face. Angela's head swung back from the blow, as a small trail of blood trickled out of the corner of her mouth. She stared at her captor in shock, her eyes glazed over from pain and sorrow. The man stared back at her, shocked at his own response, not that he had hit her, but that he had felt pleasure in doing so. A thought hit him and he desperately tried to shoo it away, not wanting to entertain the possibility for even a brief second. However, the possibility would not leave him alone. He gazed at her for a moment, before backing away. She's not the one, the voice said in his head, the one he had heard numerous times in his past.
"Yes she is!" The man said furiously, his teeth clenched in anger. Angela stared at him in fear, not understanding what the man was talking about.
You know she's not. She's an impostor just like the others.
"She is not!" The man yelled as he reached his hands up and covered his ears, trying in vain to prevent the voice from assaulting him.
She lied just like all the others. She played you, you stupid, pathetic excuse for a human being. You can't do anything right. You should never have been born.
"Shut up!!!" The man yelled, his eyes squeezed shut.
She used you, you stupid fool! She used you just like all the others. You're pathetic you know that?
"I am not." The man hissed through clenched teeth, trying desperately to make the voice go away.
Yes you are, the voice said angry. You never should have been born, you worthless little piece of shit. The world would have been better of without you.
"Shut up!" The man shouted, his voice taking on a high-pitched air.
You know what you have to do now, don't you?
"No." The man whispered, not wanting to hear the answer he already knew.
You have to kill her; it's the only way.
"I won't do it." The man said feebly.
You have to. It's the only option, the voice said.
The man opened his eyes and gazed down sadly at the frightened woman bound before him. He opened his mouth a few times, in a feeble attempt to say something. A moment later, he bolted up the stairs, slamming the hatch to the cellar behind him, in his haste forgetting to lock it. A moment later, the front door slammed shut and he quickly made his way to his car, desperately needing to clear his head.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Angela stared at the man in terror and confusion as she heard him arguing with himself. Fear gripped her as she realized that she was going to die at the hands of the madman before her. She gasped in relief as she saw him run out of the room, slamming the door behind him. A moment later, she heard the front slam shut and she sobbed in relief as the realization that the man was gone - at least for the time being. She sank back down on the bed in relief before struggling to sit back up again. This was her chance, her only chance, to get out of this hellhole alive.