Chapter 2: The Monster

Yesterday upon the stair

I met a man who wasn’t there

He wasn’t there again today

Oh, how I wish he’d go away
~ Hughes Mearns

BPOV

As I awoke encased in darkness, a piercing ache radiated through the small of my back and into my tailbone. My body screamed in opposition as I tried to uselessly shift to a more comfortable position in the cramped space. I was leaning against something hard and sat upon something of equal hardness. I instinctively brought my fingertips up to trace along my surroundings, but they only fell on more hardness on either side of me. It felt cold and smooth, the way I would imagine a wooden coffin would feel.

My neck also burned as if pin needles were set ablaze then used to prick my skin without an ounce of care.

My butt was numb as were my feet, which had obviously been tucked under my body an unknown length of time. I pulled them from under me, the tingling sensation setting in immediately as I bent my knees up to be parallel with my chin.

Once I moved on from the pain in my numerous joints, the question of ‘where the hell am I’ emerged in my thoughts. It was as if my short-term memory was as blank as the space around me and I could only remember things in snatches.

Grainy images of milk being poured into a glass flashed in my head. I could see myself inhaling the fresh summery scent of the dandelions and daisies that were perched on the window sill in a clear vase. Then like a veil fell over my reverie, my vision turned red, and suddenly there was…

Fear.

Fear enveloped me, and my breath hitched. I closed my eyes as I sat, attempting to conjure up my distant memories.

The glimpse of a faceless form, a monster, appeared in my mind’s eye, watching. The image of him was nothing more than an shadowy silhouette, yet he released a menacing vibe that terrorized me to the core. The monster could have been as tall and threatening as Goliath, but I couldn’t be sure as I quickly became desperate to repel the image of him from my head. My eyes clenched tightly, and I flinched, wishing the sight away. And then I saw Lauren standing--

Oh, God, Lauren!

My memory then brought forth the sound of a moist thud, like an ice pick being rammed into a watermelon. Something happened, but I didn’t want to know what. I wanted to shrink away or be painted black so I could fade into the dark place in which I sat.

As if God heard my silent plea and was rejecting it, I heard scattered voices filtering into my ears.

The faceless monster must have returned. I cradled my knees to my chest and buried my head, hoping against hope that I would either be saved or killed quickly. I inevitably lost control of my nerves and couldn’t hold back the shakes that jolted my cells as I awaited my fate.

The moment before madness ensues is a moment as familiar to me as bullies to school children. The terror is so unbearable that you simply want to get it over with already, the way you feel seconds before vomiting.

A sudden beam of light penetrated the darkness, but I didn’t look up and kept waiting. Seconds seemed to become hours as I kept my head submerged in whatever clothing I was wearing. The soft pillow-like bundle of fabric covering my knees was the only defense against the attacker I knew was peering down at me.

“Hello?” A meek voice called, and I shrieked at the sound of it.

It was a male voice that struck me as soothing, but I couldn’t be fooled. I yearned with every fiber of my being to implore that soft voice to just kill me swiftly. I fought with myself, but my dangerous curiosity won out, and I lifted my head from my knees.

And my eyes fell on a man. The moisture that had accumulated in them blurred the full view of his appearance, but I could swear I was gazing upon an angel. Compassion was visible in his expression, and his seemingly flawless face looked upon me with sincere concern.

“I’m Detective Edward Cullen.” I remained tentative, still suspicious that he could be the monster in an angelic disguise. But he continued, “It’s ok. You’re safe.” The would-be angel turned his head to glance at a barely noticeable man standing behind him, then brought it back to me. “We’re cops.”

Cops.

The word brought with it understanding, and I released a heavy breath.

“Can you come out of there, please?” With caution, he extended his hand to me.

The hesitation of accepting it was short lived, and I brought my own hand up to grasp his lightly.

In an instant, and even before my hand was entirely in his, a sense of comfort washed over me. It wasn’t necessary to look at his features, although I knew even in my unsteady haze that they were beautiful. The sunlight pouring in from the window reflected off his deep copper hair, making it appear on the verge of flames.

I rose to full height, which was still significantly shorter than his tall stature, and the tremble in my body did not stop. I involuntarily began to whimper as the tremors affected even my vocal chords.

“That’s better.” The angel spoke again. As if unable to control myself, I leaned into him, and my head found a place against his chest. The beating of his heart pounded against my temple as fresh adrenaline still coursed through his body.

Strangely, my body pined for his hands on me. It seemed that at that moment, the world only contained the two of us, and he was the only remedy for the twistedness I was experiencing.

And then his hands were on my back, and my senses went wild in spite of myself.

“What’s your name, Miss?” He asked.

I uselessly opened my mouth, not for one second expecting any sound to come out. But as I trembled and quaked, I rasped out, “Bella.”

Now get me the hell out of here.

*~*~* 7:00 PM*~*~*

EPOV

The questioning was not going well. We sat in that small white bricked room at the station with Sergeant Banner, the big burly man who had been my superior for nearly the past year, as Bella was taken through all the standard questions.

“Full name?”

“Isabella Marie Swan.”

“Age?”

“Nineteen.”

The answer of her age surprised me. This girl that sat across from me, wearing the white bag posing as a dress was nineteen? The frail, broken person who was so thin that the tiny straps of the dress seemed to cling to her shoulders for dear life was actually a young adult?

Her pony tailed hair was still falling in her face, but she made no attempt to swat it away. Instead, she stared at an invisible spot on the table and methodically answered our questions one by one.

“Date of birth?”

“September 13, 1987.”

“Where are you from?”

“Phoenix, Arizona.”

I caught myself from time to time subconsciously studying her face as though by looking hard enough I would maybe begin to understand her.

There had been some kind of strange connection between us when we embraced while standing next to that armoire. My pulse had been calm and steady even as I pulled her out of it. But the moment she found comfort against my chest, my heart responded, and its beating quickened pace.

“Did you know the victim well?”

“Not really.”

“How long had you known her?”

“One week.”

We were getting to the hard part. There was no doubt in my mind that Bella had experienced something traumatizing, and I was fully prepared to stop this interview in the event that she have a breakdown at any of the questions asked.

The very mention of Lauren Mallory seemed to be enough to bring on the panicking process. It was evident in her sudden intake of breath, her face becoming devoid of any color, and the way her body began to break out in those familiar shakes.

“When was the last time you saw Lauren alive, Bella?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did you see anything of what happened to her?”

“I…I don’t know. I d-don’t remember.”

She was stumbling. My next indication that it was getting to be too much for her. Her breathing had accelerated to a worrisome speed, and beads of sweat were now visible along her brow.

I looked at my superior as he leisurely sipped from his still full cup of coffee like he was completely failing to notice the terror stricken young woman seated before him.

“Sergeant Banner, can I talk to you for a minute?” This shit needed to stop.

“Sure, Cullen.” Taking one last meager sip, he stood and addressed Bella. “We’ll be back shortly, Miss Swan. You take a break and relax.”

I looked to her, and our eyes found each other’s as I rose to my feet. I could almost feel those deep brown orbs penetrating my very soul, and I threw her a nod, a faulty attempt at trying to be reassuring.

I turned and followed Sergeant Banner out of the room. We were met by the overly anxious Mike Newton as he expectantly waited outside the door for his opportunity to get in on the questioning.

“Newton, get Miss Swan a cup of water.” The Sergeant ordered without so much as a glance at him.

I smirked in amusement as Newton narrowed his eyes at the back of Sergeant Banner’s head, then strutted to the water cooler muttering, “I’m no fucking maid.”

“What’s on your mind, Cullen?” The Sergeant asked, propping himself against the wall near the doorway of the break room.

“Well, sir, you can tell the girl is traumatized. Maybe even suffering from post traumatic stress or some shit like that. So I don’t think we’re gonna get anything useful out of her tonight.”

“Hm.” He responded pensively with a nod. “An evaluation may be a good idea. Maybe question her with a shrink present.”

“Want me to arrange it?” I asked, preparing to head to a phone.

“Nah, let Newton arrange it. You go tell her the plan, then you can take her when it’s time.”

He proceeded to step away as I turned back in the direction of the room where Bella waited.

“Oh, and Cullen,” he suddenly continued, “find out if she has a place to stay tonight. We need to make sure she’s safe. If she doesn’t have anywhere to go, well, then…” He trailed off, running a pudgy hand over his balding head.

The words I spoke next flowed without a second’s thought beforehand.

“She can stay with me.”
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