1977
Edward
I can hear the nervous man's thoughts clear as day. His inner voice is thick with disgust at what he has achieved already. However, he still dreams of what he is about to do.
He recoils from the fleeting thought of where this transgression could leave him in the future.
It's the same self-gratifying thoughts all men of his kind have; one after the other. His mind falls in line and creates a picture of the exact type of villain he is.
It's a dark path. Dirty, vile. I guess mother was right. I will rot in Hell, he laments.
I follow him patiently, taking my time to breathe him in.
Ah, but if only the decadence had not caught me. Her hair. I can smell it from here.
Her mother takes good care of her. Maybe . . . if I'm friendly; good to her. Perhaps it will outweigh the bad. . .
Occasionally blessings and chance line up commensurably. Initially, I planned to hunt away from the area of Seattle; until I heard the fiend's intent.
I can hear the little girl whine inside the burlap sack, her mind still muddled from sleep. I see her wide, fearful eyes in the man's mind as he tied and gagged her.
"If you stay quiet, I'll untie you in a little while."he recalls saying to her, stroking her dark hair.
"Maybe I'll call her little mouse because she stayed so very quiet just for me."
I suppress the growl that threatens to escape my mouth. The venom grows thick against my tongue; and I imagine if I were to open my mouth it would pool down my chin.
The vermin ducks into an alleyway. A shortcut to his hovel of a home. I follow suit, lurking in the shadows.
He plans to drop her through his window and walk himself past the landlady with no suspicion. Flirt with her a little as a distraction. I notice he is handsome in his own mind.
A wolf in sheep's clothing.
The widowed woman has been taken with him for a while, and would surely not notice.
He's twenty-eight years old; smart. A pre-law student. His thoughts are carried off to how he will explain any noise the girl makes in the coming days; the walls are paper thin at his apartment complex. He hasn't methodically thought anything through, overwhelmed by his disturbing obsession.
He has no reason to plan now, seeing as he has mere seconds to live. I think this to myself with a smile, dragging in his scent. Past his inherent evil, it's rather sweet.
I attack swiftly, slamming him against an adjacent wall and grabbing his throat in my hands. He makes a wet, gurgling sound, and I bare my teeth. I let go of all sensibilities in place of my true nature.
The one teaching I have not discounted in Carlisle's absence; letting go of one's ambitions during a meal.
His eyes mirror the little girl's when he stole her away. The delight of that thought makes my head dizzy, and without so much as a breath, I tare into him. I allow his warmth to overtake me and feel his body quake, writhing in pain. . .
In the moment of pleasure, I admit to myself the want to be more reckless than I should. To rip out his jugular, torture him. But I settle for the slow pull of his blood down my burning throat.
He should be allowed to feel at least this agony as he dies. I want his mind to be silenced, with this pain being the last thing he is allowed in life.
It flashed before his eyes, and I can hear it clearly as he becomes the only thing my own monstrous nature will focus on. He thinks of all the children he's assaulted before, his mother who hated him, his father who loved him . . . but maybe not.
He thinks he loves this girl in this moment.
He apologizes to his father in his mind's last whisper.
I can hear his other senses dulling in place of the fire brewing in his veins.
I drop him in repulsion, unsure of where it's directed. He falls to the ground like a wet rag, paralyzed from the venom.
As I lift him through the window, I wonder if things would play out differently for him if we met in a different scenario. Of course, I know better than to think of what could be, but I still do.
Maybe that's how he could get away with his perverse behaviors for so long. Getting by the same way I did most nights. Not thinking of the past, twisting the lust into something beautiful.
Justice and Love. It feels truthful to say I know neither sometimes.
I internally cringe at the thought of us ever sharing commonality.
The child's sobs attack my ears as I stow away his body under a cluttered desk.
I can tell that she has fought her way out of the sack, even from inside the dark room. My eyes land on his wallet; I tuck that away for later as well.
By the time I am able to climb back out of the window, she is on her feet. She stares at me with an awed expression, and I wonder how much she has seen. I scan her mind, and to my relief, I am not there. The last thing she saw was the man who stole her away.
"Hello, Hilda." I say it in the most soothing voice I can muster.
Her wide eyes flash in shock, and I smile reassuringly, walking closer to her. As I kneel, I hear her heart flutter and her mind scatter in many directions. It is common for younger humans to feel this way around my kind, as they see past the surface level on most things.
"Yes, I know your name. You have nothing to fear with me, even though I am scary. I will escort you home to your family."
I try to be as gentle as my monstrous nature will allow as I motion to pick her up; but I know my black eyes are probably cold and foreboding.
She thinks of her family vividly, when I mention it. A young woman with deep blue eyes, like her own; and a slightly older man with pepper-salt hair and a booming laugh. Her little tow-headed brother, who she assumes to be still asleep in his bed, unaware of her absence. Her heart ached for what was almost lost, even as she didn't know the full extent.
"Yes, let's get you home. Close your eyes and count to ten."
We reach her home in no time. Her tiny hands dig into my shoulders, and she quivers against my chilled skin. Fortunately, the window above the balcony was left slightly ajar, a book caught between its clamping vice.
Eight, nine . . .
I surveyed the room before dropping the girl onto her bed. I used my nail to cut away the rope, not trusting my teeth so close to her.
Her face was still in awe, but her mind was more settled, reasoned. I chuckled softly at her thoughts.
"Are you an angel, mister?" she whispered.
"Yes, be not afraid. For I bring you good news." I quoted, loosely.
Blasphemy, I'm sure. But better to leave her with a dream than a nightmare. She could be no older than six or seven.
Her head perked up at the line.
"You flew me home and everything! Like Peter Pan!" her voice was rushed and lilted in excitement.
I hushed her, hovering in my shadow.
"You must not alarm anyone of my appearance."
Hilda nods eagerly.
I smile, amused by her childish wonder. Children are so trusting. This musing made my heart soar, and sink like led simultaneously.
I rapped lightly on the window pane.
"This window. You must never, ever leave it open at night. Do you understand?"
She nods her head with vigor. I pull the book away from the window pane, closing it softly.
"That man that captured you, he could have hurt you badly. It's not safe to have any door or window open at night, understood?"
"Yes, sir." she said quietly.
Her younger brother sighed deeply in his sleep, dream muddled with soft whispers, and I saw it as my cue to leave.
I opened the window slowly and stepped back onto the small balcony, motioning for Hilda to close the window and lock it.
She hesitated, and I knew her question before she asked.
"No, it is not likely you will see me again." she frowned in disappointment but nodded all the same.
It was for the best that this child never crossed my path again. I might have saved a life tonight, but I was no hero. In all truth, I was the second worse kind of villain.
A different kind of predator. That thought haunted me in my aimless travels, as the black of night secured a new trail for me to follow.