A/N: This is a very violent story, YOU'VE BEEN WARNED! *ahem* I hope you enjoy, as long as you can accept that this is fiction and I don't know or own any one except the character that obviously is mine.


This Time Around




She sat on the large plush chair reading a book that she'd been trying to read for the last few months, but never got to. Page after page, just like the tick tock of the clock, she didn't miss the shudder of the heavy door and she didn't miss the quiet footsteps either.

She turned to look at the black form making it's way up the stairs in hopes that she wouldn't notice he'd left. She smiled in disgust at this and followed him upstairs, making sure she missed the stair with the creak as he hadn't. Of course he wouldn't, he wasn't home enough to know where it was.

She watched from outside the large oak door as he looked at the four-poster bed, where she was supposed to be sleeping but what he saw was a line of pillows under the covers. After making sure she was sleeping, or so he thought, he began to undress first his large black leather coat the one she had gotten him for their anniversary. Then his shirt and dark denim jeans, and then with only his pair of black boxers he walked back to the bed.

That's when she walked into the room, a shadow among shadows. Unnoticed she crept right up to the bedside opposite where he had slipped under the thick covers. Just as he was about to uncover her body' she hissed, causing his head to shoot up looking for whatever had made the noise.

But before he could see her face the bullet hit him square between the eyes, his body was propped up on one elbow and sat still for seconds. Then it slowly made it's way back down to the bed, where it would rest for eternity.

She lit the match and watched the flame flicker to life on the base of the match and then its limbs struck out to eat the fresh wood beneath it. Just as he had done to her, she had been his base, but then he'd found fresh wood to burn on.

Just as the flame got to her pink finger she threw in down upon the bed, the large comforter that he lay under caught fire quickly. It burned quickly because of the down feathers inside of the pure white covering that was the feathers confines. She watched as the bed burned and soon the curtains caught fire also, sending the room into a burning mess.

As she watched the burning hell take everything she ever knew, she smiled. In this very bedroom he had put her through a worse hell then the flames would have put her through. She cringed when she thought back to one of the many trips to the gates of evil...

*******
Shut up bitch! He yelled, his drunken fury taking over his body. He backhanded her, sending her to the floor beneath him.

Please, don't... She cried out as he grabbed a handful of hair and hauled her up, she cried out in pain as she felt her hair being ripped from her skull. When she finally was able to stand on her own two feet, he let go of her hair and took a swig from the dark brown bottle that he had clutched in his harmful hands.

She used this distraction as an opportunity to run, only getting as far as the doorway when he grabbed her around the middle. Her screams ripped at her throat, no longer loud enough to make it outside the house. She lashed back with her head and was rewarded with a sickening crack.
He let go of her and clutched his now bleeding nose, but in his rage he forgot the blood and ran after her. She had made it halfway down the long stair case by the time he reached the top, he jumped down three at a time. She screamed when he used his foot to push her forward, causing her to loose her footing and sent her head first down the rest of the stairs. She lay limp and hurting for a few seconds, before she felt him on top of her,

Get up! Get up now! He yelled, kicking her ribs with each word. When she didn't stand up he bent down and picked her up by her wrists and shook her furiously. He let go of one of her bruised wrists and began to slap her repeatedly. Every time she let out a sob, or tried to pull away from him he would punch her right in the face.

Help me! She managed to croak before he kicked her hard in the pit of her stomach, she cringed but he wouldn't let go of her wrists. Then he slammed her up against the wall, pinning her arms above her head as he made haste of pulling the belt and buttons off of his pants.

*******
The flames were now making a sea of orange across the ceiling, the light in the middle made a loud snapping sound as the light bulb broke. She looked back down at the bed and could hardly make out his shape through the bars of flames that were enveloping the whole bed.

She made her way towards the door and stopped to look back at the fire, only to see the sour memories burning. She smiled a tight liped smile and walked out of the doorway making her way for the flight of stairs with the red carpet. She remembered when they had put the carpeting in...

*******
Don't speak! He roared as he knocked her head against the wooden stairs. She had hit him back and now he was making sure she would learn her lesson for fighting him. She was floating in and out of consciousness as he slammed her head down again and again against the hard wood.

She reached a pathetic, trembling hand up to try in vain to push the man off of her, but he only pushed it out of his way. He slammed her head down again, and felt the blood coat his fingers and leak down onto the stairs.

Horror struck his body as he quickly stood up, looking at the scene before him. She lay unmoving, her head cocked to the side and dark red liquid seeping from her midnight black hair. He looked down at his hands and saw the blood, her blood, smeared on them.

The next morning he called the carpeting company to come and lay carpet on the stairs to cover up the stains that would remind him, haunt him of what he'd done. She had miraculously woken and with nothing but a bad headache, that was the closest he'd come to killing her. From that day on he washed his hands until they bled, trying to ride them of the blood, her blood.

*******
She heard the sirens that were coming closer and closer to the house, obviously one of the neighbors had seen the smoke from the fire that was now making fresh tracks into the other rooms upstairs, and down the wooden bannister.

Too bad the neighbors never heard her cries of pain, or his roars of fury when he beat her, she thought bitterly. Now she stood up and made her way towards the front door to meet the sirens, for the first time...

*******
The first time he had come home with the distinct smell of mixed liquor on his breath, she had been levelheaded and threatened to call the police if he touched her again.

That little sister of yours is getting to look like a real ripe blossom these days. He had commented looking at a picture of her family, she took up an expensive vase and hurled it at him. He ducked and that's when he had descended upon her with his vengeance, telling her that if she ever told anyone he'd make sure she wouldn't have a family to run to. She had been too scared to think clearly, and she had not told a single soul, nor did she ever leave the confines of the house when the bruises were still on her face.

*******
If she would have only thought clearly, this would have never had to happen. Yet here she was awaiting the nearing sirens, with a bitter taste in her mouth. She knew that they wouldn't serve any purpose to her now, she had made sure of that.
A/N: Do you know who it is? Review so I know if you all really want to know...