AUTHOR'S NOTE: WARNING! SCENES DESCRIBED IN THIS CHAPTER MAY NOT BE PLEASANT TO SOME. THIS CHAPTER INVOLVES THINGS SUCH AS RAPE, MURDER, THOUGHTS OF SUICIDE...ETC. DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THAT OR ANYTHING RELATED TO THOSE TOPICS.
ALSO SOME MILD LANGUAGE.
Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.
Thank you for your time and do enjoy, don't forget to review! - toxicwaffles
Bella's POV
My life is a lie. A big ugly lie that swells and bubbles up. A black puddle of disgusting deceit. Can you see me in a sea full of others? I'm the one with blood on my hands. I'm the one wielding that hand gun, the hunting knives, the syringe full of poison. I am the butcher's daughter. A deliverer of death. And my social life sucks too.
I wish I could die sometimes, I really do. Just a little slice of skin here, maybe a sip of draino there. How easy it could be to just swerve my little car off one of those very large and steep cliffs, how quickly I would plummet to my death against the deadly sharp rocks at the bottom. Or the fall into the ocean might kill me, drowning myself in the dark waters. I fell asleep at the wheel, purely an accident. No one has to know. It'll be our secret.
I have always managed to get to that stage of suicidal thoughts to be quite honest. But before I can act I'm always pulled back. Back to the pits of reality, stupid stupid reality. I always cringe too after my ill thoughts of self mutilation are gone, realizing that reality none the less is where I am needed, where my work is important.
With every client I see I learn a new valuable lesson about how I can do better. Sometimes I even learn about potential new clients I could possibly take on. There's always room for more improvement. And trust me, learning how to take a target out without bashing him or her over the head with something that could possibly get blood on your new shoes is always a good thing.
My work you ask? My work is very important. I help make the world a better place, a brighter place, a safer environment. You could call me a good american citizen. Well...we wont go that far. Some could disagree.
I rid the world of evil. I take out the trash, the scum of the homo sapien race. Murders, rapists, pedophiles, mob leaders, gang members. The works. Your deeds may not go unnoticed or unpunished. It really just depends on who you are.
Let's say you happen to be a pedophile. A one time offender who fucked up. Got caught with your pants down in a very inconvenient location. Now you get arrested and say you get sent to prison or another equally harsh alternative. Your sturdy right ankle is forever branded with a GPS tracker. You serve some time and through some miracle or great lawyer, you are eventually granted release back into society.
You aren't boxed in by wired fences and prison guards. With your new found freedom you vow never to be near any schools or little league games ever again, you even seek therapy. If you are a good boy and you stay true to your words, then we wont have a chat.
Though I do enjoy the chats most times. I always offer my guest some juice or tea, they beg for their life or cuss me out, the more aggressive ones usually tend to threaten my life.
All in a days work wouldn't you say?
I really am the perfect monster. The daughter of Seattle's top police chief. A bright young woman of twenty with a brilliant mind, a girl who was offered, still is offered occasionally, scholarships of all different sizes and colors. Even a full ride to at least two prominent universities.
But I am not off learning amongst the great scholars of Harvard or Dartmouth. No. I instead sit this very moment in the classrooms of Seattle's community colleges. Learning all that I can about everything. I know how selfish I have been, not going on and moving up. Don't think I don't. But if I leave, I wouldn't be granted the same access to help the helpless as I do here.
Being the daughter of the chief of police does have some benefits, which help me greatly. I daily dig through my father's personal files about the newest murder or rape. I can track down the killers much faster then my father's team. I look up to my father with the up most respect and I do not for one second think he is incapable of his job. I just know he can't get into places I can without the right paper work. And that takes far too long in my opinion.
"Class please listen carefully. The person you are sitting next to will be your lab partner for the entire semester." A woman marched in, the wind whipping up her dark hair slightly, the door slamming swiftly shut. She put her briefcase down and began writing down the syllabus on the chalkboard. What we would cover throughout the course. This was my new biology teacher.
Biology. My favorite subject. Especially the human body. Every bone, muscle, and organ. Blood, tissue, the human heart. Have you ever seen a human heart? What about one ripped out of a chest just seconds before their death? Utterly and completely fascinating.
I turned my head to the left and noticed no one as at my table. I raised my hand to inform Mrs...what was her name? Meyer I think. To inform her that I was absent a partner. She had her back towards to me still writing on the chalkboard so I cleared my throat. She did not turn around. I guess she didn't hear me.
I opened my mouth to say something when a person, a male student, threw open the door and walked in quickly with amazing grace. Literally for a second and half I thought this man was dancing. He stood in front of her desk, his back also facing the rest of us.
The teacher turned to him and frowned. "Your late Mr...?"
"Cullen." He replied and his voice was so soft it reminded me of velvet.
Absurdly smooth velvet I would just want to lay my cheek against. Or keep that silky voice in my pocket, in my dreams. Okay stop I told myself, your not thirteen.
They talked quietly and I could see him hand her a slip of paper, no doubt an add slip to get on this class's roster. I could still hear bits and pieces of his velvety voice.
Remember the mission Bella. The plan. Plans which do not involve sexy voices. Remember that I am Bella Swan and I am a monster. Remember...
He turned his head, eyes flickered around the room. His beautiful topaz irises met my dull brown ones and I tried to hold on to rational thinking.
I am a monster... ..I am...a...monster-r...I am...I..oh dear.
Nope. Too late.
Is it hot in here or is it just me?
