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 ;)
Author's Note: Sorry for taking so long with this chapter, I have no excuse except for laziness. Thanks to everyone who reviewed this story, your interest and support meant a lot :)
Dedication: To CCA for encouraging me to write :) To Starbright for being such a devote follower, and lasty to Klariss31 for emailing me today and asking when I'd post the next chapter :)
The man quickly jumped out of his car, his gait purposeful, as he stalked towards the front door. He placed his hand on the doorknob and frowned in surprise as the front door slowly creaked open on its own. Confusion settled onto his features as he tried to recall whether or not he had locked it before running out of the house. He slowly stepped through the doorway and cautiously scanned the hallway and living room, trying to see if anything was amiss. A horrible thought crossed his mind, causing him to stop dead in his tracks. "She couldn't have," he said although his voice was uncertain. He quickly tore through the kitchen and walked over to the door that led to the basement. He saw it lying open before him and shock settled over him. He stood that way for a second, stunned, before tearing down the stairs. He saw the hatch to the cellar lying open and knew that it was true. "How?!" the man shouted, his voice vibrating throughout the empty room. "How did she get away?" he yelled.
Who cares how you moron, the voice said angrily, once again assaulting his thoughts. Find her and kill her you idiot.
The man stood in the middle of the basement lost, never having had something like this happen to him in the past. Nobody had ever gotten away from him before. "How do I find her?" he asked pitifully.
Look for her you moron. She couldn't have gotten far. Now! The voice shouted when the man failed to move.
The voice jolted him back into action. He ran outside towards his car and hopped in, desperate to find her. Anger started to seep into his being, at the knowledge that the traitorous bitch had run away from him. He quickly tore down the street, his knuckles white from the death grip he had on the wheel, envisioning that it was Angela's throat instead. "You're going to die tonight you whore!" the man shouted his face scarlet. He seethed in anger as he turned the corner, his eyes darting back and forth, on the lookout for her. "But, first you'll learn a lesson in what it's like to defy me," he hissed.
Angela ran towards the convenience store and stopped dead in her tracks as she noticed for the first time that the windows were boarded up and the interior was dark. "Oh, God," Angela whispered as reality hit her. She had nowhere to hide. She quickly turned around, searching for a sanctuary where she could stay until the police or her son arrived, but she saw nothing. She was about to run back towards the convenience store, to find some way to get inside and hide, but what she saw next made her freeze on the spot like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. The man was driving towards he and from what she could tell, he had seen her as well.
The man watched, surprised as he saw her standing right before him. He grinned madly, ecstatic that he had found her so easily. He quickly stepped on the gas and drove towards her. He saw her start to run and swung his car around, effectively cutting off her path. He saw the fear in her eyes as she stared at him and his smile grew wider. "That's right, be scared bitch," the man said as he quickly got out of the car. "If I were you, I'd be very afraid right about now."
"Oh, God," Angela said as the man jumped out of the car within arms length of her.
"That's right, Angela. Pray," the man said chuckling before grabbing her. He pulled her roughly towards him and swore when she hit him in the face. His head swung back but his grip on her stayed firm. "You'll pay for that, whore!" he shouted before bringing one of his hands back and punching her in the face, the loud cracking sound that followed when his knuckles made contact with her cheekbone, causing him to grin. He saw her stagger from the force of the blow, the only thing keeping her upright was the grip of his hand on her forearm.
Angela staggered under the force of the blow, tears welling up in her eyes from the pain. Dread started to settle over her at the possibility that she would die tonight before help came for her. She was just about to give up hope when the sound of sirens greeted her. She sobbed in relief at the knowledge that her salvation had finally arrived. Seconds later, she saw the squad car and thanked the Lord.
The man stood shocked as he saw the police car come tearing down the street towards him. "It can't be," the man said as he looked around, hoping that it was all a dream. A second later, his eyes widened in disbelief as he saw the blue Mustang come flying towards him, right behind the police car. He glanced down at Angela, wondering what to do. A second later, he knew. He hit her once more, and roughly grabbed her, noting that the second blow had dazed her even further, and threw her into the car. He quickly slid in after her and took off down the street, the police in tow.
As Angela's head swung back with the force of the second blow, she thought she saw her son's car heading towards her, however her relief was short-lived as her attacker threw her into his car and sped off down the street. Angela blinked her eyes furiously, trying feebly to remain conscious even as the darkness that was creeping into her vision threatened to overpower her at any given moment. Oh, please Maurice; please help me, she thought.
Bosco roared down the street after the car that had his mother in it. He quickly closed the gap between it and the RMP that was following it as it weaved between cars. He stared straight ahead, his jaw locked, as he watched the car before him. His sole thought that he had to save his mother.
Angela watched in shock, still dazed, as the crazed man beside her drove recklessly in the early morning. Although in most cities the streets would be deserted at this time of night, in Manhattan that wasn't the case. Angela stared out of the windshield in fear as the man tried to dodge the police, weaving dangerously between cars. She saw him pick up speed as the police closed the gap between them. Finally, she found her voice. "You're not going to win, you know," Angela said softly as she focused on the man beside her.
"Shut up, what the hell do you know, bitch," he hissed as he pressed down on the accelerator.
"I know that you're not going to win. I know that the cops will catch you and send you to jail where you belong," she told him, her voice remarkably strong even though she was shaking inside. She ripped her eyes away from the man and twisted her body around to stare out of the rear of the car, seeing the police cruiser chasing them. A moment later, she saw another squad car suddenly come out from a side street. The man, however, was able to expertly steer around the police car. Angela thought she could make out her son's Mustang but wasn't sure. She quickly turned around, her mind racing a mile a minute, desperately trying to figure a way out of her present predicament.
"Look, why don't you just turn yourself in," she pleaded with him, although she knew that trying to reason with the disturbed individual next to her was futile.
"I said shut up!" the man shouted, going even faster.
"Look, you're not going to get away with this," Angela told him, her voice desperate. She gasped as her body was suddenly flung sideways and she hit her shoulder hard on the passenger door, as the man just narrowly escaped crashing into another car. The blaring of car horns and the screeching of tires met her ears as the car ahead of them swerved off the road. She cried out in relief as the man gained control of the car, not so much as flinching. Angela could feel her heart pounding in her ears and with a shaky hand, she slowly reached over and fastened her seat belt. "Just give yourself up."
"I will not give myself up! I will win. I always win," he told her, his jaw clenched as his fingers tightened on the steering wheel. Angela could see two more cop cars appear behind them from her side mirror.
What are you doing? The voice asked.
"What does it look like," the man hissed through clenched teeth.
You can't outrun all these cops, face it, you fucked up one too many times. It's over.
"I said shut up!" the man hollered his face psychotic. He could see another police cruiser ahead of him and quickly turned off onto a side street, the tires squealing in protest.
Angela held her breath and watched in horror as one squad car ended up missing the turn. She could hear the crash, the sound of glass breaking and metal crunching, as it slammed into a street sign. However, she sighed in relief as the other two police cruisers quickly followed behind them. She held her breath, her mind racing, wondering what she should do. She listened in fear as the man continued to argue with himself, obviously unhinged. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, preparing herself of what she had to do next.
"I always win. Always," The man mumbled, over and over again under his breath, speeding down the street, the headlights of the other cars passing by in a blur of lights.
"Not tonight you won't," Angela said before grabbing the steering wheel with both hands. She quickly wrenched the steering wheel to the right, the tires squealing in protest as the car turned madly. She stared in terror, acutely aware of the dizzying array of lights and sounds blurring together as the car spun madly about in circles. Her stomach lurched as the car continued to spin. Her eyes widened as the car hit another car, the crunch of metal resounding in her ears. She could hear horns blaring and the next thing she knew she could feel the car go airborne as it flipped over in the night. She could hear the shattering of glass as the windshield was crushed. As the car flipped over, she could hear the man's screams, as he was thrown around in the car, not having worn his seat belt. Finally, as the car came to a halt, miraculously right side up, the man lurched forward. He screamed one last time in terror as his body sailed through the broken windshield before landing on the ground with a sickening thud. Angela couldn't help thinking it was the most wonderful sound in the world. Then, everything went black.
"Hey, how are you feeling?" Bosco asked his mother as he walked into her hospital room. The sight of her alive and awake before him caused him to smile in relief. Aside from a concussion, a broken arm and multiple cuts and bruises she was going to be fine.
"Hey, yourself," Angela said, tears of joy sprang forward as she saw her son alive and well. Relief flowed through her as she realized how close she had come to losing him. "How are you?" she asked concerned, as she took in his bruised form. Her eyes locked on the angry bruises around his neck. "Oh, baby," Angela said tearfully as she took in her son's injuries.
"Hey, come on, none of that now," Bosco said as he pulled up a chair and sat down next to her. He reached for her hand and held it between his own, thankful that he was able to, knowing all to well that he had almost lost her. "Mom, please don't cry," Bosco said, his own voice teary as he tried to remain strong, the sight of his mother before him making it difficult to keep his composure.
"Oh, baby." Angela sobbed, "I'm just so glad you're alive. I thought ... he said that you were..." Angela said, not able to finish the sentence.
"Hey," Bosco said his voice still hoarse. "You know that I'm not going to go without a fight. I'm way too stubborn for that," he told her, a small smile forming even as his own eyes glistened with unshed tears.
Angela half laughed and half sobbed, "Thank God for that," she said, gazing at her eldest.
"Besides," he said, his voice serious, "I made a promise to you that I would protect you, ma. I don't take my promises lightly."
"Thank God for that too, Maurice. I don't know what I would have done if you weren't there," she said, shuddering that the knowledge that she would be dead right now.
"Hey," Bosco said, reading her thoughts. "Don't even think about it. You're going to be fine and he's dead. He'll never hurt you again, ma. I promise."
"I know." Angela said as tears started to flow freely down her face. "I just can't believe it, you know? I mean why? Why did this man want to hurt me? I didn't even know him."
"I don't know why, ma. He was a very sick person. I don't think we'll ever really understand why he did all those things."
"What was his name?" Angela asked, needing closure.
Bosco stared at her a few seconds, debating whether or not he should tell her, not wanting to upset her further. "Steven Whitmore," he said simply.
"Steven Whitmore," Angela whispered. It sounded like such a normal name. She wondered how such a normal sounding name could belong to such a sick and troubled individual.
"Police are searching his house. They found a whole chest filled with pictures of woman. One of the officers recognized one of them as a body they turned up about eight months ago. The detectives still have to investigate but it looks as though he had done this many times before." Bosco said softly still haunted by the photographs he had seen of the bound and brutally mutilated bodies. Angela stared numbly before her, not sure what to say. "Ma," Bosco said quietly, reaching his hand up to turn his mother's face towards him. Angela fixed sad eyes on her son. "It's over now, ma. It's over. You don't have to worry anymore. Nobody's going to try and hurt you again. I promise," he vowed.
Angela smiled sadly, grateful for his presence. "I know," she whispered softly before gathering her son in her arms and embracing him. They stayed that was for several moments, each grateful to have the other alive and well, both knowing how easily they had come to losing one another. "Thank you," Angela whispered before pulling away, "Thank you for everything."
"It's what a son's supposed to do," he said simply, squeezing her hand once more. "Get some rest." He told her. He watched as she settled back down, and leaned back against the uncomfortable chair he was in. As he listened to his mother's soft and even breathing, he closed his eyes. He said a silent prayer of thanks before exhaustion and fatigue finally overpowered him.
End