Author's Notes: Hello readers. As some of you are aware, there is a good possibility, that after I finish my current stories, I will no longer continue to post on It's a very hard decision to make, under the circumstances in which I am currently faced with, but I promise I won't leave anything unfinished if I do decide to go elsewhere. If anyone is interested in the particulars you may visit my profile for updates. I do want to promise readers that I won't abandon my current stories, despite my fleeting desire to do so.
It's been awhile since my last update, and for that I apologize...I'm back on a roll with this story, though, this chapter was a nightmare to write! I hope it will be smoother sailing from here. Reviews help. Lol. That's my shameless review plug for this chapter.
For those of you easily grossed out...warning. :P.
I was too impatient (imagine that) for my beta to finish her own stressful day at work and check over this for me, so I'm flying solo on this. All mistakes you find (and some are quick to jump to tell you how many mistakes I do make) are mine. I can't even guarantee that I've proofread the entire chapter...
Jenny
Chapter Five:
"This isn't over! I will be back!"
Greg awoke with a start, the room spinning around him as he struggled to take a breath. It took him a few seconds to become aware of his surroundings, and once he realized he was in no immediate danger, he allowed himself to sink back onto the couch, closing his eyes as his airways relaxed and he was able to finally inhale deeply.
"Sara?" He called out weakly, his head pounding as every muscle in his body began to ache. Clearing his throat, he called again, louder, "Sara?"
Tears threatened to force their way to the surface as he listened in vain for any sign that she was coming. After a few minutes passed, he let his eyes close with a moan. It was getting past time for his pain medication, and as shaky as he felt, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to make it to the kitchen counter without hurting himself even more.
He sighed, grimacing as the simple action caused his side to ache. He had to get to his medication, there was no way he could deal without it right now. With one hand gently holding his side, he forced himself into a sitting position, sweat glistening on his forehead as he bit back a yelp of pain.
It was then that he spotted the two little pink pills sitting on a plate next to a sandwich. Beside them was a folded sheet of white paper with his name on the outside. With a frown, he unfolded the paper, trying to get his unfocused eyes to concentrate on the messy cursive writing.
"Greg, I had to go in to work for a bit. I left your medication and a snack out for you, try to lay down and take it easy. I'll be back as soon as I can. Love--Sara."
Greg sighed again, tossing the note to the table as he placed the two pills on his tongue, reaching for the bottle of water she had left on the table. It was still cool, she couldn't have been gone for too long. With a groan, he sifted through the papers on the coffee table, searching for the remote. The house was too dark and too quiet for his liking, he needed something to keep his mind occupied, to help him forget about his abduction.
He frowned as he was met with a blank screen, a small blinking light on the bottom of the screen reading "Searching for satellite signal."He tossed the remote back onto the table with a scowl, suddenly angry at Sara for leaving him. He was stuck in this apartment, confined to the couch, and there was absolutely nothing to do besides sleep. While on any normal day, Greg would welcome the opportunity to sleep the hours away, right now sleep only meant that Alyssa's face would dominate his dreams once again.
He reached for the sandwich, his anger at his wife fading slowly as he realized just how hungry he felt. It would have been easy for her just to leave, but she had gone to the trouble of making sure he'd be taken care of...sometimes he was still surprised at how she always knew exactly what he would need.
He brought the sandwich to his lips, closing his eyes as he took a huge bite. His stomach growled, and he greedily took another bite, barely chewing the first before swallowing it. He opened his eyes, staring down at the sandwich. His appetite had been lacking since his rescue, but now he was starting to think it was only because of the unappetizing hospital food.
He brought the sandwich to his lips once more, but stopped as he glanced down at the meat sitting between the two slices of wheat bread. It was the same as he usually ate, deli-sliced chicken on wheat with lettuce and cheese, but as he stared at the slivers of beige meat, all he could imagine was Alyssa peeling back his skin, holding it to his face, forcing him to chew.
With more energy than he had possessed in days, he tossed the sandwich to the table, propelling himself off of the couch, despite the tremendous pain that surged through his wounds. He made it only as far as the kitchen sink before emptying his stomach, using a nearby cup to rinse his mouth out repeatedly, unable to rid himself of the taste of flesh.
He could feel himself beginning to hyperventilate, but couldn't calm down as the images of Alyssa and her victims began to flash before him. Suddenly he found himself at their last crime scene, staring at the severed head of Alyssa's last victim. Her last murder victim, at least. Why didn't she kill him when she had the chance? What would happen if they couldn't get a conviction? If she escaped from prison? Would she come back for him?
He slammed the glass down on the counter, angry at himself for letting this bother him so badly. It was the past, you can't change the past, you just have to move forward. But what would happen if he couldn't? It had been years since the lab explosion, and he still sometimes felt jittery when he remembered it. He had thought moving to the field would be easier, but now he had this to deal with. Was he safe anywhere?
He grabbed the glass, filling it with water once more, trying in vain to get the fleshy taste from his mouth. Three glasses of water later, he tossed the glass against the wall, shockingly pleased as it shattered into hundreds of pieces as it came in contact with their tile floor. He laughed dryly at the irony. The glass was broken into unrecognizable pieces, just like he felt. He shook his head bitterly, stepping over the glass as he made his way to the bathroom. He took a shot of mouthwash, rinsing out the awful taste in his mouth and replacing it with a strong mint.
A strong mint flesh.
He forced back a gag, wondering if he would ever be normal again. He glanced up into the mirror, frowning at his appearance. If he was to venture outside, people would think he was the boogeyman, coming after their children. His face was unusually pale, his eyes framed by dark, deep circles. His hair fell limply around his face, plastered into place by sweat. Even his lips didn't look as if they belonged to him.
And to top it off, he couldn't help but feel like bits of skin were caught in his teeth.
As if it wasn't enough for him to look like death warmed over, he now was going insane. He felt his resolve slowly start to chip away as his body was wracked with painful sobs. He sank to the floor in the hallway, his sides aching painfully as they were jostled with each cry he uttered.
If he couldn't make it through one hour alone, how would he be able to survive the rest of his life?
It didn't take long for him to cry himself out, and as he sat sprawled out on the floor, he knew some changes had to be made. He couldn't live his life in fear of the unknown, if not for himself, then for his wife. Sara couldn't see him like this, she couldn't see how weak and pathetic he had become.
He forced himself to his feet, all too aware of his injuries as his previous adrenaline wore away, leaving him to struggle through every painful step of his journey back to the couch.
He had made it to the living room entrance when he heard a scratching noise outside of their apartment. His heart began to race, but before he could overreact, the side of his brain still thinking rationally forced him to calm down. The noise could be anything, there was no reason to jump to conclusions.
"I will be back."
Alyssa's voice echoed through his weary mind and he felt his heart rate begin to rise once more. What if Sara had been called in to work because Alyssa had escaped? She wouldn't have left him alone if it hadn't been important. What if Alyssa was hunting him down at this very moment?
The noise continued, and he backed against the living room wall, unable to stop the fear growing in his chest. His chest felt constricted as he struggled to fight off another panic attack, sweat beading against his forehead. He shakily wiped his brow, trying to remain as quiet as possible. How could she possibly know where he lived? How likely was it that she had escaped from jail? He had to be overreacting.
His eyes flew to the door handle as it began to jiggle, and as a wave of fear coursed through him so strongly that he felt he was going to pass out, he rushed towards the first place he could think of, the hall closet. His side burned, and as his shirt began to stick against his skin, he realized he must have torn his stitching. None of it mattered, though, as he sank into the dark corner of the closet, trying to remain still and quiet. She couldn't find him, it wasn't an option.
He heard the door swing open, and subconsciously held his breath in anticipation. This was it, this was how he was going to die. She was coming back to finish what she started. Clenching his fists tightly, he prayed this was all a dream and he would wake up and find all of this was not real.
"Greg? Where are you?"
The room started to spin around him as the voice echoed through his ears. Gone was the dark security of the closet, it was now replaced with a dingy house, a nail pinning him to the floorboards. The smell of cooking flesh assaulted his nostrils, and he reflexively gagged, bringing his hand to his face to try and block out the images. He could smell the smoke in his abductor's blonde hair, and he could hear her voice calling to him. He was trapped, he was alone. He'd be dead before anyone ever arrived to rescue him.
"Greg! What are you doing in here?"
He looked up, his eyes unfocused and distressed. She looked different, but he'd know her anywhere. She was coming to finish him off. To kill him. To eat him. She had him trapped, there was nowhere left to go. He had to fight back, this time, he had to fight back. He flew to his feet, ignoring the nearly-disabling pain that came with the action, and lunged towards her, "Leave me alone! Don't touch me!"
"Greg!" She shrieked, taking a step backwards, "What's going on?"
"I won't let you! Not again! I said to leave me alone!" Greg yelled, blindly throwing punches as he tried in vain to escape from the arms of his captor, "Why do you keep doing this to me!" He finally got a good grip on her arm, and he twisted it behind her back, hissing angrily, "I'm going to make you pay."
He felt his fear diminish and his confidence grow as he realized he now held the upper hand. His left arm went around her neck, and he hissed angrily, "You can't get away with what you've done."
He felt tears fall onto his arms, and he now knew he was in control. Tightening his grasp, he continued to whisper harshly in her ear, "Give me one good reason right now why I shouldn't kill you."
"Greg, please let me go." she sobbed, her small body shaking under his hold. "Please Greg, you're hurting me. Please."
The words struck him deep inside and it was as if the fog surrounding his brain clear instantly. No longer was he in Alyssa's house, winning the fight, but back in his own apartment, his wife sobbing as he held her in a death grip.
He released her as if he had been burned, and through a dizzy haze he backed away, his heart fluttering wildly. He had just attacked his wife. He had hurt her, he had made her cry, he had hit her. He had never laid his hand on a woman in his entire life, and here he was, harming the one person he had promised to care for no matter what.
His mind raced as he tried to figure out what to do next.
He had to fix this.
He took a step towards her, holding out his hand, "Oh God, Sara, I'm so sorry. Please...I...I'm so sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. I don't know what I was doing. Oh God, Sara, please--"
"Don't touch me!" She shrieked, backing away from Greg as he approached her.
The moment her words touched his ears, he froze. She sounded so nervous, so scared...he had done this to her. What kind of monster was he? He looked down at his bandaged hands, and watched as they began to tremble. He had lost his sense of security, his stability, was he going to lose his wife too?
"Sara, please." He asked desperately, his eyes red with unshed tears, "Please, let me explain--"
"Greg, please just...Just stay away from me."
He heard the tremble in her voice, but found himself unable to meet her gaze as his heart dropped. How was he ever going to make it through this without Sara's support?
TBC
I don't know how much of this makes sense...I tend to think on a different planet sometimes (right Emmithar?)...so if I've lost you, feel free to let me know and I'll try to straighten you out. Lol.