Pen Name: CircleOne
Summary: Sometimes insanity begets insanity.
Word Count: 5687
Disclaimer: I own nothing but a couple of pairs of ridiculously high stillettos.
"Dammit!" I hissed to myself as one of the heels on the ridiculously high pair of stillettos Rose had forced me to wear snapped under me, causing my ankle to bend awkwardly and sending me sprawling to the hard, cool concrete. I untwisted my limbs and removed the offending shoes, inspecting my ankle in the process. It was tender, but thankfully, no real harm had been done. Throwing the medieval torture devices that masqueraded as fashion into my overly large handbag, I moved to grab the brick wall beside me and lift myself to my feet when a loud bang resounded overhead. Suddenly, the sky opened up, pouring bucket upon bucket of what could only be God's idea of a cruel, cold, wet joke onto my head and the world around me.
"You've got to be kidding me!" I screamed at the heavens, mentally cursing the God who loved to torment me so much.
Finally, I gathered my bearings, forced myself to stand, and, barefooted, began to clumsily limp along the street. A passing car honked at me, while proceeding to drive, full speed into a large puddle that had formed by the sidewalk. I was hit with tidal wave-like force, and pushed back into the same brick wall that had previously been my saviour. I stumbled to the ground again, and this time, decided to stay there. With my legs spread out before me in a 'V', I huffed in a childish fit, slamming my fists against the bitter rock beneath me.
And the tears began to flow.
I'd never been what you would call a lucky person. Black cats had nothing on me. My friends refused to let me cross their paths. On Friday the thirteenth I wasn't allowed to leave the house. Literally. My friends would try to lock me in my bedroom when that date came around.
It was funny at first, I admit. I'd laugh too, at the jokes, and quips, and little gestures everyone would make at my expense. But when I started receiving nothing but Rabbits' feet and horseshoes for birthdays and Christmas presents, the funny faded fast.
I sat, crying into the downpour that seemed a perfect metaphor for my miserable life, for hours. Or minutes, in reality, but hours was more dramatic, and I'm nothing if not dramatic.
"Bad night?" Came a husky voice from the dark shadows of an alleyway behind me, making me jump near out of my skin. I turned towards the voice and squinted through the sheet of rain and sopping wet hair shielding my view.
"W-who's that?" I called out to the darkness. From the gloom of the alley, a tall, lean, spectre of a man stepped into the light cascading from a streetlamp; his face hidden from view by the large umbrella sheltering him from the storm. He wore all black; his style conservative, yet somehow graceful, like his gait. His heeled boots clicked on the pavement as he crept closer to me. Timid, like a mouse, more afraid of me than I was him, but predatory, like a tiger, ready to pounce on its prey. He was contradiction. Absolute.
He reached me and stood at my back, forcing me to crane my neck uncomfortably to look up at him. He watched me for a long moment in silence, and a feeling of unease swept through my body. Finally, bending at his knees, he lowered himself to me until we were face to face, and I involuntarily shrunk back in surprise. Or fear. His features were handsome. In fact. they were more than handsome. Stunning. Beautiful. God-like. His hair was an unearthly shade of copper, sure to be found only on the highest peak of Olympus. His eyes were covered by a pair of dark glasses, which struck me as odd. Who would wear sunglasses at this time of night? But aside from the striking, chiselled line of his jaw, his prominent cheek bones, and his full pouty lips, his skin was the color of melting icecaps. Almost blue in its pallor.
"I didn't mean to frighten you." He flashed a smile that revealed the most perfectly straight, white teeth I'd ever seen. I imagined that if I ran my finger along them, I would retrieve it covered in blood. Razor teeth notwithstanding, the smile only managed to heighten his dazzling appearance. I was suddenly reminded of a praying mantis.
My entire body was reeling. My brain told me to fear this strange, beautiful man, but the part of me that lies silent at the junction of my thighs had seemingly awoken from her slumber and was screaming at me to grab him, hold him, touch him.
Gathering my wits, but not my voice, I managed to nod my head at his initial question.
"Come now," he purred, his voice like melted chocolate. "Let's get you out of the rain, shall we?" He held his hand out for me, and I tentatively took it, allowing him to lift me to my feet and pull me close to him under the umbrella.
"There, that's better, isn't it?" he asked, pushing my wet hair behind my ears.
"Y…yes, thank you," I managed to squeak out.
"You're quite welcome, Isabella." he said smoothly and started walking me down the street.
I smiled at him, but frowned suddenly. Something wasn't right. Something in my mind was telling me I should be going into DEFCON 5 right now, but I couldn't figure out what. I couldn't think straight. I could barely even form coherent thoughts. So why a code red blinking behind my eyes? I shook my head to clear it. It helped for a moment. Bella. Bella. Bella. My name repeated inside my head. My name? Something about my name?
"Your feet must be freezing, I should really get you home. You live this way?" he asked, his voice enveloping me in Novocaine-y goodness.
I smiled up at him numbly and nodded my head.
"I'm Edward, by the way." He dazzled me with another perfect smile and the world was all rainbows and puppies and the DEFCON alert subsided completely.
Edward the name rolled around in my mind. Edward. What a perfect name for such a perfect, beautiful boy.
We arrived at my apartment building, and suddenly, I was very aware that I hadn't told him where I lived. My fists clenched at the thought, and I tried to shrink away from him, but he held onto me tighter.
"Easy now, tiger. You look so tired. And you're shivering." And once again, his heavenly voice managed to wash all fears away. My hands unclenched and I found myself wondering why they had been in the first place. My mind fogged again and I allowed him to drag me, effortlessly, through the hallway to my apartment door.
Keys jingled in my door handle, as beautiful hands pushed the door open and hauled me inside. I tried to remember exactly when I had given him my keys, but the fog seemed to cloud over that little piece of information as well.
I shivered as the warm air of my apartment hit my freezing body. Edward walked me to the bathroom and grabbed a towel from the closet, wrapping it around me. In the moment his hand left my body, it dawned on me that this strange man seemed to know the layout of my apartment even better than I did. I shivered again, but this time it was most definitely not from the cold. He seemed to notice the shift in my stature as I involuntarily slunk away from him, my feet slowly moving of their own accord towards the open bathroom door. He was there within seconds, slamming the door shut behind me, and pinning me to it, his hands on either side of my head. The frightened little mouse had scurried away, and the hungry tiger had returned.
"Where ya going, sweetheart?" he purred maliciously into my ear. His voice, once dipped in honey, now seemed laced with venom. I stared up at him in terror, internally willing my body to move, but it wouldn't. Begging my voice to scream, but it didn't.
Lowering his head further, he nuzzled the crook of my neck and inhaled deeply. Hands slipping from the door, they landed on my hips, squeezing tightly, and for the moment at least, all thoughts of running melted away. In Psychology class, you learn early on about the Fight or Flight defense mechanism, and part of me knew I should be adhering to that, the part buried deep inside begged me to, but the part that was in front of this gorgeous, terrifying man right now simply could not be bothered.
"Take your clothes off." he commanded, and my body obliged without my consent.
My shaking fingers first went to the buttons on my blouse, undoing each one in turn slowly; my eyes never leaving his face. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered why he still wore those sunglasses, but I unconsciously pushed that thought away.
The buttons undone, I slipped my blouse off my shoulders and let it drop to the floor, doing the same with my bra. My hands moved slowly downward and made quick work of the zipper on the back of my skirt, allowing it to pool on the floor, alongside its discarded brethren.
I stood in my bathroom, frozen, out of actual cold, or plain old fear, I didn't really know, allowing myself to get naked in front of a strange man who knew far too much about me for comfort, and yet, I couldn't bring myself to care at that very moment.
"Your underwear too." he snapped, and I did as I was told.
His ice cold hands went to my hips again, grabbing them tightly and pulling me to him. He inhaled deeply once more, and I could hear a low growl building in his chest.
"Perfect. Absolutely marvelous." he cooed in my ear, sending another wave of shivers down my spine. "Exactly what I pictured, Isabella."
He wrapped one hand around the back of my neck while the other splayed out across my lower back, and trailed upwards, following the path of my shivers.
"Turn around," he ordered, and forcefully turned my body towards the sink, pushing me into it and causing me to cry out.
"Spread your legs."
I paused and looked up at him in the mirror, still unable to find my voice. Before I knew what had happened, I heard a loud slap and my inner thigh burned painfully.
"I said spread your legs. I don't like repeating myself." I winced and did as he said. I briefly wondered why I was allowing this to happen. Some part of me knew this was wrong, knew I should call out for help, or fight back, or run. Part of me knew this man was dangerous. But as soon as his arctic hand slid between my legs and caressed the scorching heat that lay between, that part of me was long gone.
My ears vaguely registered the sound of a zipper, but all coherent thought was lost as his lips met my back. I was forced forward into the sink again as he thrust violently into me, causing me to call out. His hand shot down to the intersection of my thighs, fingers playing over the throbbing flesh, successfully quelling my pained cries and melting them into pleading moans.
His free hand snaked up my naked back, leaving gooseflesh in its wake, and wound into my hair, pulling hard and snapping my head up, forcing me to watch his face in the mirror as he assaulted my body, pounding into me harder and harder with each thrust. I bit my lower lip as I felt the familiar throb deep in my belly, splaying out across my abdomen and into my lower regions, culminating in a fireworks display of the most intense orgasm I'd ever had.
He leaned his head down into my neck as I exploded around him, whispering gently into my ear, "That's right Bella, come for me. For ME Bella. For me only."
As he lifted his head back up, his sunglasses tumbled from his eyes and it became very apparent why he felt the need to wear them. I looked into the mirror and came face to face with a pair of vicious, evil blood red eyes. My own brown eyes gaped at him in horror, and all other thoughts long forgotten, I found my voice and let forth a scream so loud, I thought I saw the mirror shake. Before I had even expelled all the air in my lungs, he clamped a hand tight around my mouth and sneered at me in the mirror. My horrified face only managed to egg him on further, it seemed, as he locked my eyes with his and began his assault anew, slamming into me with renewed force.
Tears streamed down my face from the confusion wracking my body and mind. I was terrified. I feared for my life. I knew there was something wrong with this man. He wasn't human, couldn't be. A human could not have eyes that color. But the sensations that flooded my entire being, from his touch, his smell, his voice, turned me into writhing, moaning putty in his icy hands. My mind screamed at me. Telling me he would surely kill me. I would not survive the night. But my body arched to his every thrust. I finally closed my eyes and gave into the lust until at last, at last, he growled once, low and feral, and let go inside me.
He pulled out, releasing me from his grasp and my knees wobbled. Feet giving out from under me, I tumbled to the cold tiled floor.
My body flushed and freezing at the same time, I clung to the floor as if I would suddenly fall off it. Away from it. Just fall. I seemed to be falling. I heard sounds in the distance, but surely they couldn't be as far away as they sounded. I was still in my bathroom. Wasn't I? The noises came to me in a muffled haze. A zipper. A cupboard door squeaking open, closing shut. Feet shuffling. Then I was wrapped in fluffy warmth and really was falling. No, not falling. Flying. Flying? I opened my eyes just enough to see through my long lashes and realized I was neither falling nor flying. Edward had lifted me into his arms.
He carried me to my bedroom and laid me, naked and spent, on my bed. I clung to his neck, briefly, not wanting to let the monster go while he was still near me. He chuckled and released himself from my grasp, covering my naked frame in the large, goose-down comforter splayed across my bed.
"Sleep now, Isabella," he whispered in my ear, cold fingers tracing my jaw line. "Fear not, my queen, we shall meet again soon." I couldn't decide whether to take that as a threat or a promise, and at that moment, I didn't want to.
I was asleep without another thought.
I awoke the next morning, dazed and groggy. My mind was a haze as I struggled to recall the events of the previous night. As snippets of memories rushed back to me, I was finally able to feel the emotion that had been sorely lacking during the nightmarish events: complete and utter terror. Had it really happened? Had I really allowed it to happen? I slipped the blanket off me and noticed a large, red welt staining my pale inner thigh and a wave of nausea swept over me. It had. I had. I fisted the blanket and curled myself into the smallest ball possible, my body wracked with heaving sobs.
I never left my bed that day.
The second day passed much the same. Fear, repulsion, misery, the only emotions I allowed myself to feel. A constant stream of unending sobs, my only aural companion.
On the third day, I rose.
That was the day the "presents" began arriving on my doorstep.
Wilted roses for my wilted queen.
She was finally mine. She understood me. Loved me. Needed me as I needed her, and she would appreciate my offerings.
Each day a new one, until she would venture out from the confines of her concrete prison and come to me.
Always the same. Wilted red roses. Each with a note that read 'Mine.' She would understand this. Would know they were from me, know what they meant; that she was mine, and I hers, and there would be no other to come between us. Ever.
Each day, I stood in the shadows, watching…waiting for her to emerge to find my gifts. Watching, waiting for the smile that would light up her beautiful face. But the smile never came.
The first day, she shrunk back in fear, as if my flower had burst into flames.
The second day, she screamed and slammed the door.
The third day, she sobbed and kicked at it.
The fourth day, she threw it in the garbage.
My gifts did not appease her. I would have to find something else, some grander gesture to prove my love. Was it not enough that I watched her as she slept each night, ensuring her safety? Did the fact that I so thoughtfully duplicated her keys, in case she herself misplaced her own mean nothing to her? Did my knowledge of her home, her work, her friends not prove that I loved her above all else? That no one could love her as I did?
What would it take? What could I do to ensure that she knew, once and for all, that we were meant to be together, and that I alone could love her as she deserved?
It was a week from the day I began with the roses that opportunity presented itself. I watched her, as I always did, from the darkness of a doorway across from her apartment building. Hearing her voice flitting through the still night air, I peered out into the street, careful not to be seen, and saw, to my dismay, that she was with another man.
How could she? If my heart could beat, it would have stopped in that instant.
I closed my eyes and listened.
"Thank you for the lovely night, Jake. I needed to get out of the house."
"No problem Bells. It was great to see you. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"
"Okay. Thanks again." And then she kissed his cheek and a growl slipped from my lips.
I crossed the street and made my way to the confines of a shadowed alleyway not more than a hundred feet from the door to her apartment building.
Now she would know. This would prove to her that I was the one. Me and me alone. No other.
I listened and waited. Waited and listened, and finally I was rewarded as I heard the distinct boots of the man she called "Jake" making their way in my direction.
He whistled to himself and walked smugly past my hiding place. Before he was able to reach the other edge of the alley, my hand shot out with lightning speed and pulled him into the shadows.
I clamped a hand around his mouth to stifle his screams, and I growled in his ear,
"She is mine."
Without another word, I placed my other hand on the back of his head and twisted. With a deafening pop, his spine shattered in my hands, and he slumped lifelessly to the ground at my feet.
This would show her. Now she wouldn't be able to deny my love for her. If I was willing to kill for her, obviously I loved her more. Who else could she say that about?
I stealthily carried the body back into the apartment building, placing him on my queen's doorstep and pinning my usual note to his chest. Mine.
She wouldn't find him until morning, I knew this, and so I waited. I had nothing but time.
The morning came and with it brought the bloodcurdling scream of my beloved. I closed my eyes and relished in the sound. This was it. She would see now that I would kill for her, again, and again, until she was mine and mine alone. There would never be another, for me, or her. I would see to that. I would kill all who attempted to come between us. And when I finally made Bella Swan mine for eternity, we would kill together, and she would see it was meant to be that way. It was fated.
She mourned for weeks after discovering the body of that peasant. I understood this, she was only human, afterall, and allowed her the space needed.
Well, not really, but she didn't see me in the night, in the dark. Couldn't feel me as I stood in the corner of her room, watching her toss and turn, and cry in her sleep. In the dark, in the night.
As the days wore on and she began to noticeably calm down, I began to make my presence known in subtle ways.
While she was out, I would lie on her pillow so when she returned to bed in the night, she would smell my scent and think of me.
I would leave more roses, no longer carrying my notes, around her apartment in odd places; the bathroom cupboard, under a couch cushion, in her lingerie drawer.
I would finger the word "Mine" on her bathroom mirror, so when she stepped out of the shower, the steam would cause the letters to appear.
I would whisper her name whenever she was near, making her jump and look around frantically for the source of the sound, though she could never find it.
I would allow her to catch slight glimpses of me in the street, but would disappear as quickly as I had come, making her think she was seeing things. Seeing, hearing, smelling me everywhere she turned.
I watched with increasing joy as her sanity began to waver with each new reminder of me.
She began staying home more often, losing her job and most of her friends in the process.
She would pull at her hair, yanking clumps out at a time.
She would sit on the floor, rocking back and forth, her body shaking uncontrollably and her fingers scratching at her arms until they bled.
She became as skittish as mouse, even the slightest of sounds causing her to jump nearly out of her skin and scream at the top of her lungs.
She was almost ready for me. She was alone and broken and mine.
Everywhere I turned, he was there. I saw him in my nightmares, in my dreams, and in my waking hours. I couldn't get rid of him. He was there when my eyes were open, and he hid behind my lids when my eyes were closed. I smelled him in my bed and heard his whispers in the dark. I could feel him. He was under my skin, and I clawed at it desperately, until my nails bent back, blood dripping to the floor, and my skin was raw with nowhere left to scratch.
I yanked out my hair and screamed until my voice was hoarse. I saw him in shadows and feared opening my door and seeing someone else's body lying lifeless on the threshold.
I found roses everywhere and smelled them even when they weren't around. I came to not only loathe the flower, but fear it as well. Walking past a flower stand would leave me panicking and shaken, tears streaming down my face as I ran home. I was no longer even able to talk to my oldest and dearest friend, Rosalie, because of the wretched association.
I became not only a prisoner in my own home, but in my own mind as well; seeing things that weren't there, hearing things when there was nothing to hear. My mind began to play tricks on me and soon enough, I had trouble deciphering reality from fantasy.
After months of mental torture from the strange, beautiful demon that haunted my life: mind, body and soul, I decided it was time to take my own sort of action. Doing the best I could, I began seeing a psychiatrist. I needed Edward out of my head if I ever hoped to live a normal life again. I saw the path I was on, and it was leading me straight to an institution, of this I was positive. I needed help, if only for some form of sedative to keep the images that lurked behind my eyes at bay.
The air was crisp and the wind blew cold on the night of my first appointment with Dr. Banner. Things had gone well enough, but I didn't see a peaceful end to my brewing insanity anywhere on the horizon, nor did I think Dr. Banner saw one.
I hugged myself tight as I walked down the dark street, my eyes shooting everywhere at once. He always seemed so close, even though I only ever caught faraway glimpses of his retreating form. I found myself wishing, more often in recent days, that he would finally come out of hiding and end things. I couldn't take it anymore. I just wanted to die. To be at peace. Once, I had held a razor to my wrist, and with shaking hands, willed myself to pull downwards, but my body wouldn't comply. I couldn't do it. I silently begged for the end.
I heard whispers of my name on the wind. BellaBellaBella it called to me, sending waves of panic through my body and causing me to turn in every direction, looking for the source. But there wasn't one. There never was.
Heels clicked on the pavement behind me and I jumped, flashing back to the day I had met him and the sounds of his boots on the sidewalk behind me. I moved faster, head down, wind whipping past my ears. My apartment was in sight. So close. Another hundred feet or so. Almost there. The footsteps behind me became more swift, the faster O moved. I dared not turn around. I didn't want to see the devil at my back.
BellaBellaBella, the wind mocked me.
Noises surrounded me. Streetlamps flickered in and out. Heels moved faster, closer, louder, looming right on top of me. I cried out into the wind and jumped into an alley. The heels paused for a moment, but kept moving past me. Leaving me to the taunting wind and the darkness.
I breathed a sigh of relief.
And then I heard the laughter.
It rumbled in the night, cutting through the wind and the darkness like a knife.
"Beautiful Isabella. You've found me. I knew you'd come."
I couldn't move. Couldn't breath. Couldn't think. I was frozen. His voice floated to me from further back in the alley, and I begged my body to move, but it wouldn't.
In a moment, I felt his breath on my neck, and my body kicked into action.
"Don't run." His voice surrounded me.
But I ran.
I ran as fast as I could. But where to go? Can't go home. He had keys.
I ran in the direction I had come, back towards the middle of town. Maybe if I could find someone, anyone. But the streets were deserted. I found myself in the midst of a ghost town.
But still I ran.
I could hear him behind me. Laughing. Always laughing. And the wind laughed with him. BellaBellaBella, they chanted together.
And still I ran.
I moved to the right, to run down a main street, but then he was there, smiling, laughing. So I ran left. Past tall buildings and apartment complexes where there was no one. Past parks and fields and a highschool. And still no one existed. Had he killed them all? I wouldn't have doubted it.
Each time I wanted to turn one way, he would be there, forcing me to turn another, until I found myself running into the open garage doors of a warehouse.
More dark. Always dark. I ran until I hit a wall. I couldn't see anything. I blinked my eyes to ensure I had not involuntarily closed them. I hadn't.
Faint light poured in from the street, but it was centered around the doors, and I was far, far from them. And then they closed. And there was no more light. Only dark.
"Isabellllllaaaaa" He sing-songed from the other side of the warehouse. "I've missed you, my love. I do hope you liked my gifts." More laughter.
"What do you want?" I screamed at him.
A light flickered on in the middle of the room, and I was finally able to see him in all his unholy splendor.
"Why you, of course. I thought that was obvious."
"But why?" I cried.
"Because we're meant to be together, Isabella. Don't you see that yet?"
I scanned the room before me. Looking for something, anything I could use as a weapon. My hands groped the wall. I bent to my knees and felt along the floor.
"What are you doing, Isabella? You wouldn't be looking for something to hurt me with, would you?"
"Please…" I begged.
"Please what, Bella. Please what?" He growled and took a few steps towards me.
"Please. Just leave me alone."
"Oh, but I can't. Don't you see that? I can't leave you alone."
"Because I love you. How could I leave the woman I love alone? Tell me that."
I fell silent and continued searching with my hands, my eyes never leaving his. I noticed he no longer wore his sunglasses. I guess he didn't need them anymore. I'd already seen his eyes.
'God, if you're listening, please, please help me,' I pleaded in my mind. And then I found it. Found something. My hands curled around the cool handle of a bright red canister of gasoline. I stood on shaky legs and brought myself up to full height, clinging for dear life to canister in my hand.
"And what do you plan to do with that?" he laughed throatily.
I clamped my free hand over the cap and twisted with every ounce of strength I had. It came loose and toppled to the floor.
He stepped closer. I gripped tighter.
He took another step, and I grabbed the container with both hands.
After two more steps, I lifted it to my chest.
One more, and he was within mere feet of me. I closed my eyes, prayed silently and splashed him with liquid. I hit my mark, and he was saturated in gas, spluttering angrily as it dripped down his hair, into his eyes and mouth. I took the opportunity to run again, past him and towards the doors.
So close, ten more feet. Five more. One more.
I reached my hand out to grab the handle, but was thrown to the ground, smashing my head against the concrete.
He rolled me over and glared into my eyes.
"That wasn't a smart move, Isabella. You've made me angry. It's never good to make me angry."
He pinned my arms to my side and straddled me, nuzzling his nose in my hair and inhaling a deep, shuddering breath.
"I bet you taste even better than you smell." He purred and before I knew what was happening, he lifted a hand, brushed my hair from my neck, and sunk his teeth into the warm flesh of my throat.
I screamed out in shock, terror, pain, and flailed underneath him. I felt my blood pooling behind my shoulder and a fire burning in my throat. I struggled to push him away, but he overpowered me, his weight on my chest keeping me pinned as he lapped at the coppery life that seeped out of me.
I could almost feel my heart begin to slow as my breathing became ragged. With the ounce of strength I had left, I wriggled my hand into my coat pocket and fumbled with the small, pink lighter that was always there. Prying my hand from my pocket, I felt my eyes starting to slip closed as I flicked my finger against the thumbwheel.
In that moment, everything happened so fast. The lighter ignited close to Edward's jacket, dousing him in searing hot flames that quickl\y spread to his entire body. He leapt up and away from me, running around the warehouse in a vain attempt to quench the flames, as I too felt my body burning. Burning from the inside out. I closed my eyes and let the pain overcome me, until there was nothing but darkness.
I awoke later in hospital. I had no idea where I was, or how long I'd been there, but my body ached and my throat blazed. I grabbed at a cup of water on my bedside table and gulped it down, but it did nothing to quench my thirst. I wanted to scream at the pain, but no sound would come out.
And then I smelled it. It was the most enticing, intoxicating scent I'd ever encountered. I tried to move, to follow the tantalizing aroma, but my body screamed in protest.
I focused my eyes on the small white door of the hospital room, and that was when I saw him. He was walking with a small, black-haired girl, and his voice flitted to me through the air. His accent was heavy with a Southern twang, and my mouth watered, and throat clenched at the sight of him. Tight jeans, and black t-shirt over a lean, muscled body, long, wavy blonde hair, hidden slightly from view by a beat up cowboy hat.
I watched as he moved with a lithe grace, finally disappearing from view and the only word I could think to whisper was, "Mine."
AN: My love and thanks go out to the wonderful who took time out of her day to selflessly beta this little bit of insanity for me. Thanks Meads! I owe ya, girl!
This was written almost entirely to the song Now I Hear the Laughter by The Germs, who have the power to drive me insane each time I listen to them.
Please review :)