Hello my very loyal readers. Some of you have stuck with me for a very long time, and I know our relationship has been far less than gratifying because I've all but fallen off the face of the planet. But here's my olive branch, my peace offering and my way of saying that I'll be coming around more often. Here is a lovely little one-shot I did for Smut Monday over on Twilighted. I hope you enjoy it!
Isabella Swan stood in front of the bathroom mirror examining her reflection. Dressed smartly in a black pencil skirt and crisp white blouse, she looked every inch the part of a serious journalist. Add to that her black framed glasses and she was the picture of professional perfection, which is really saying something considering the fact that she'd gotten the call about this story just over an hour before she found herself standing in a vacant bathroom.
Though she loved all sports, and that was her primary reason for getting into sports journalism in the first place, this particular sport was not in her usual detail. As a writer for Isabella could almost always be found at collegiate and NFL football games taking quotes and comments directly from the sidelines, but tonight was a different story entirely. She'd received a frantic call from her colleague, Micheal, who was suffering from food poisoning, begging her to cover the hockey game that evening. He'd worked with her for a while now and had a good idea why she preferred to cover any other sport over hockey; football, basketball, baseball, curling, bowling, underwater basket weaving- anything but hockey, so he understood that by asking her to cover for him he would owe her for a very long time to come.
Consequently, there she stood waiting rather impatiently for the players to file out of the locker room and into the clutches of the waiting press. However, but she simply couldn't be bothered to stand waiting with bated breath for a group of bearded Neanderthals to emerge only to receive a grunted two word answer to her eloquently thought out questions. If she was going to have to endure this, she was going to make it worth her while by getting an exclusive one on one interview, instead of writing up a quick blurb about that night's game.
She checked her makeup in the mirror and thought to herself that perhaps in order to get what she wanted she might have to break a few of her own rules. Though she was already impeccably made up, she reached into her designer shoulder bag and withdrew a traveling makeup kit. She applied black mascara to her already long lashes and coated her full lips with a shimmering gloss. After she unbuttoned her blouse to reveal a professional amount of cleavage, Isabella was satisfied that she'd get what she wanted.
She emerged from the bathroom as the throng of press was beginning to thin and scanned the players for the best subject for her interview. Even though she already knew whose brain she wanted to pick, she hoped against hope that another suitable option would present himself. Surprisingly enough she didn't even see the person she wanted to avoid, which intrigued her in itself.
Isabella knew she should just chose another player to hook into an interview, like Emmett McCarty perhaps, who hadn't allowed a single goal to be scored on him in a half dozen games. But no, her curiosity got the best of her and she needed it to be satisfied.
She flashed her press pass to the security guard at the door and held it at chest level to insure his allowing her in.
Once inside the locker room, she recoiled at the smell of damp, stagnant sweat and musty equipment.
Honestly, you'd think a professional sports team could afford a maid, she thought to herself. But Isabella was not one to be frightened away by a mere foul smell.
She strode confidently down the hall, her head held high and her black, four inch pumps clicking rhythmically on the finished concrete floor. It wasn't until the hallway opened up into brightly lit rows of lockers that she slowed her pace. She began to tip-toe, almost cat burglar-like, down the aisle between rows. Why she suddenly found it necessary to avoid making noise, she didn't know, because if anyone was still left behind they would surely have heard her coming before.
Her hand flew to her chest, grasping her non-existent pearls in surprise when she came upon a beast of a man seated on a long wooden bench between lockers. He was broad and shirtless, clad only in a pair of black compression shorts with pads protruding from the hips and long white cords trailing from both ears leading to an mp3 player clutched between his beastly paws. His eyes were closed and his bare shoulders bobbed and swayed slightly to the unheard rhythm of his music.
Isabella didn't want to find his sweat-sheened body attractive. She didn't want to bite her glossy lip at the sight of him. She didn't want her mind to will him to open his eyes and cast their brilliant green, the ever present jade that haunted her dreams, on her. But she did.
As if he were somehow submitting to her unspoken request, his eyes snapped open, first staring unseeing at the bank of lockers in front of him, then after sensing that he was no longer alone scanned the previously vacant space before settling on Isabella, standing stock still in surprise clutching at her throat.
His full lips pulled lazily into a lopsided grin at the sight of her.
Bella Swan. After all these years, the one that got away returns, he thought.
Isabella's mouth snapped shut and she straightened her shoulders, a composed expression settling on her very unsettled face.
"Mr. Cullen. Isabella Swan, . Do you have a moment for a few questions?" She thrust her hand forward in formal greeting.
"Sorry, what?" he asked and tugged on the white cords causing the tiny speakers to fall from his ears.
She floundered for the briefest of moments, her mouth opening and closing like a cod fish before she recovered enough to introduce herself again.
"Isabella Swan, . Do you have a moment?"
"Isa-bella?" he asked.
"Yes?" she answered back, unsure if he was just clarifying what he'd heard or if he was actually challenging her name. There was no possible way that he remembered her from a time when she went by something shorter.
But oh how she remembered him, and she hated that she remembered him in such gloriously vivid detail.
They had both gone to Northwestern at the same time and graduated the same year. He was the All-American boy and hockey hero, Edward Cullen, while she was a scholarship student working to make extra money as a staff writer for the Daily Northwestern. She'd had to fight and campaign to be allowed to write for the sports section, because she was a girl and obviously knew nothing of sports. But they were wrong about her, as most people tended to be, and she went on to graduate as the sports editor of the paper. However, her first assignment almost derailed her completely.
It was Northwestern's season opener against Marquette, and though both schools only offered "club" team hockey, there was a great deal of buzz around some new Freshman sensation. His name was Edward Cullen and he was like nothing Bella or anyone else had ever seen before.
She took frantic notes throughout the game, trying her best to keep track of all of the notable plays (which that night seemed to be all of them).
The game ended in a 3-0 win for Northwestern and the team headed to a local sports bar to celebrate. Bella decided to attend the festivities just to get a few quick quotes from a handful of players, and would be on her way before long. Her plans were turned upside down when she approached Edward Cullen. Their eyes locked and something electric passed between them from across the room. As if pulled by magnets they met in the middle.
"Bella Swan, Daily Northwestern. Do you have a minute to answer some questions?" she asked timidly.
"Of course. Let's go somewhere a little less… noisy." He smiled and placed his large hand gently on the small of her back and led her to an empty table set back away from the buzzing chaos of the team's victory party.
Once seated, Bella rummaged through her shabby, oversized tote to find her note pad and something to write with.
"Edward," she blushed. "How long have you been playing?"
"Since I was old enough to walk, pretty much. First came shoes, then came skates as my mom puts it."
She smiled kindly at the thought of this large, hulking man having ever been a small child.
"How does your experience with the Northwestern club compare with other teams you've been on in the past?" she went on.
He ran a hand through his unruly and peculiar colored bronze hair as he thought.
"Well… the club here is a little bit smaller than what I'm used to. Not that I'm complaining, but I could have gone to a couple of different schools where the hockey program was bigger. I was offered a full ride at the University of Western Ontario to play for them. But my dad always instilled in me the notion that education had to be my first priority. As much as I would love, and hope to play hockey professionally one day, it's not a guarantee. I could get hurt tomorrow and bam! – career over. So it's important to me to have a backup plan."
"Very sensible," she smiled.
"So everybody keeps telling me, and so I've been my entire life," he sighed and leaned back in his chair, slightly slumped.
"Tell me about it," she said. "I know where I want to be in 10 years, and I know what it takes to get there. But I find that I'm always thinking about the future and never thinking about the present, never slowing down to enjoy the here and now. I guess I keep telling myself that I'll have time to enjoy things when I'm in the SportsCenter anchor chair… and when I'm filthy rich." She chuckled to herself and began fidgeting with her pen.
She hadn't even noticed that the blunt end of it had made its way into her mouth until she found Edward to be staring longingly at her lips.
"It's funny that way, isn't it?" he asked, never averting his eyes. "How we can work so hard and never take the time to enjoy ourselves?"
Bella swallowed hard and nervously licked her lips, making an inaudible groan rumble in Edward's chest.
How could one person be so unapologetically beautiful? She was so… normal, so plain yet at the same time extraordinarily vibrant. He'd always had women, girls fawning over him but he'd never found any of them worth his time. He just kept telling himself to keep his eyes on the prize; there'd be time for fun later. Never once had he strayed from his set path for longer than a stolen kiss in a darkened room, or a quick, emotionless roll in the backseat of his car. But there, across the table, wearing a woolen coat and black framed glasses sat temptation personified. He didn't know why but he felt the urge to stray with her. He pictured her, eyes hooded and mouth agape, lying beneath him, writhing and sighing his name. He'd never had a woman in his bed but he could picture Bella nowhere else. Her very presence had shaken him to his core.
"So," she cleared her throat, "who are your heroes? Who does the great Edward Cullen look up to?" Her incredible lips tugged up into a sultry, playful smile.
"The usual I guess; Gordie Howe, Wayne Gretzky. They're great, I'm not. Yet."
"Yet," she repeated with a smirk, making a few notes in her note pad before returning her pen back to her lips.
Edward wished he could be that pen.
She asked a few more questions and they bantered back and forth before he asked, "Hey Bella, would you um… like to get out of here?"
The question came from left field and he hadn't even realized he'd asked until she was blushing and bobbing her head up and down in agreement. He thanked all that was holy that he lived within very short walking distance from where they currently stood.
Across the street and down a few blocks she followed him. She didn't understand why she was doing it, because she certainly wasn't the type the go home with a boy she'd just met, but there was just something about him that drew her in. In the back of her mind a small voice kept screaming, "Ted Bundy was charming too and look where it got that house full of sorority girls!"* but she chose to ignore it. Instead she followed him blindly, or rather she let herself be led by the hand through the darkened streets, away from what was logically familiar and safe. But somehow she felt safer than she'd ever felt in her entire life with her hand in Edward's.
Normally she'd never leave anywhere with someone she didn't know because the possible consequences always outweighed the pleasures of any hasty decision. That night she was oblivious to what would happen tomorrow. All that mattered was the cold night air and Edward's warm hand wrapped around hers.
A few short minutes later all that mattered was his warm mouth on her neck as they struggled through the front door of his apartment. And then the slight grip she held on reality slipped away as she fell into oblivion. Her body was consumed by his delicious sculpted frame, hot and slick from feverish friction. Powerful muscles, corded and firing in time with the rhythm of their
desire, pulled her closer and pushed her simultaneously to her limits.
And he was in awe of her; soft and delicate, yet powerfully sensual. He was bewitched by her and she hadn't even tried to do it.
He tried to remove her glasses from her beautiful face in order to get an unobstructed view of her depthless eyes, but she initially protested.
"I want to be able to see you," she breathed, almost sobbing at the thought of losing him somehow.
He simply smiled and removed them anyway.
"Focus, Bella. Focus on me," he whispered and rested his forehead against hers.
Her eyes were weak, perhaps the only part of her that was, so it took everything she had to keep him from fading from her vision into an all-too realistic dream. His eyes, a brilliant shade of shamrock green, were the only thing that kept her grounded in the moment, the only thing that kept her body connected to her mind. She felt every sensation, every muscle contraction, every kiss, every gentle bite, until she'd felt all she could and finally exploding into a cacophony of pleasure and satisfaction.
He fell asleep that night with an angel in his arms, an angel with dark curls and chocolate eyes and lips he could kiss forever.
As dawn broke and Bella stirred in the lavender light of early morning, all of the consequences she'd ignored the night before came crashing down around her. It wasn't just the stiffness in her muscles from their over exertion, or the way her lips were swollen or how her shoulders were littered with pale pink marks where he'd made her his own, no… it was the feeling of wanting to stay in his bed, with him, forever, that startled her into reality.
Fear and regret consumed her. It licked at her insides, chastising her for her willingness to throw away her hopes and dreams for some man, even though she hadn't. She couldn't, she wouldn't do that. There was no room in her air-tight existence for boyfriends or heartbreak. Bella had her plan and she vowed to never stray from it again.
As she picked up her glasses from where they lay on his bedside table and put them back on her face, the darkened bedroom came into focus and the tears began to flow. She didn't feel dirty or used, just stupid for letting herself fall victim to irrationality. She cried and her heart shattered into a million pieces as she gathered her clothes as quietly as she could.
With one final kiss to his perfect lips as he slept, Bella slipped out of the apartment and into the bitter cold. She embraced the cold, it was like a cruel slap to the face that brought her back to the real world where life wasn't fair and love was a luxury she couldn't afford. With each step toward home she picked up a piece of her heart, but a million tiny shards would take quite a long time to make whole again.
Edward thought he'd dreamed her, especially when he awoke to an empty bed.
However, there were a few long silky hairs on the pillow next to his to prove that she had indeed been real, but where was she now?
It's for the best, his subconscious said. You have to focus, you don't have the time or energy to treat her the way she deserves. Sadly, he knew that it was the truth. He couldn't give her what she deserved and it was cruel of him to pretend otherwise.
He was reminded of the words of his mother: "If you love something set it free, if it's meant to be it'll come back."
Good things come to those who wait.
Bella wrote her story about the hockey game with a spotlight on Edward Cullen and kept it as objective as possible, though pieces of her mending heart broke off again in the process. From then on she was never available for hockey games. She would give her hockey assignments to anyone who wanted it, no matter what it did to her already meager paycheck. She couldn't see him, or else her carefully crafted plans and all of her sacrifice would be for nothing.
Edward looked for Bella at every game, hoping that the proverb would hold true and she'd come back to him. But she never did. Every game for four years and even into his professional career, he looked for her. Until one day he stopped looking and on that same day she reappeared in front of him, looking like walking sin in those cute little glasses and a skirt that hugged her every
"Of course I've got time. You can have all the time you want." His voice was smooth and velvety and effectively masked the nerves he felt building inside him.
She smiled sweetly and took out a mini audio recorder from her shoulder bag and placed it down on the bench between them.
"Nicely played game tonight. How are you feeling?" she asked in a clipped, concise tone.
Does she really not remember me? She's definitely not acting like she does.
He cleared his throat.
"Good, I feel good," he replied in the same manner. "I feel like we gave it our best and we have the win to prove it. The other team did great, their defense was on point but the bottom line is we were just faster. That's all there is to it."
"I hear one of the players from the opposing team made a personal remark to you in the faceoff, is that right?"
He felt a fire burn inside his chest. It had happened, yes, and it had been uncalled for. Edward wasn't the type to play dirty but Demitri Vance was. Of course, before the game even started Edward had felt himself getting bogged down in emotional baggage at having chosen that day
to stop searching the stands and the press box for Bella. He wasn't at the top of his game and staring into Vance's leering face as he spouted off insult after insult ignited a fire in him then too, spurring him into action, forcing him to channel his rage, his disappointment into fluid, graceful maneuvers on the ice.
"Yeah, he did," Edward said gruffly.
"Mind if I ask what he said?"
"Mind if I ask you a question first?" he countered, rising from the bench.
Isabella raised an inquisitive eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest forcing her bountiful breasts upward.
"I don't see the relevance but go ahead if you must."
"Why did you leave?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"You heard me. Why did you leave that morning?"
"I'm afraid I have no idea what you're –"
"Please don't act dumb, because you and I both know that you're not."
"I…" she tried to answer but couldn't find the words.
"I.." all of the memories of her one night with him, all the time she spent repairing her broken heart, came rushing back to her in a bittersweet flood.
"I…I left for the same reason you didn't come looking for me; because it was a mistake," she spat back, finding courage and anger she didn't know she had.
"So you do remember," he smirked. "Which part of it was a mistake exactly? The part where something special happened between us? Or the part where we fucked all night?"
His tone of voice and the fire in his eyes caused her to recoil back.
"How dare you? Something happened between us, yes, but it was a long time ago when we were
young and stupid. That's it—that's all."
"Please, Bella," he sneered. Why couldn't she just understand? "We may have been young, but neither you nor I have ever been stupid."
"I think this interview's over." And with a quick movement she went to snatch up the tape recorder from where it sat on the bench. But Edward was faster. He grabbed her wrist and forced her backwards against the lockers. With a clatter the tape recorder dropped onto the concrete floor and skidded several feet away.
"You'll be buying me a new one of those," she sniped as he pressed his body against hers.
"Fine, but admit it; you ran because you were scared. There was something there between us that night and it scared the shit out of you. Admit it."
"Fine! I got scared! But if it meant so much to you why didn't you try to find me? What's your excuse?" Her chest heaved with her anger, rising and falling against his.
He braced his hands on the wall of lockers on either side of her torso.
"Because I was scared too," he whispered.
"Of you. Of what being with you would do to me."
As he spoke he leaned closer and began trailing his nose along her jaw causing Isabella to close her eyes and whimper.
"I never forgot about you though, not for a single second. I looked for you at every game. Every time I stepped onto the ice I wondered if you were watching. I should have gone after you, I know, but I didn't because I knew… or… I hoped that you'd find your way back to me when the time was right."
His lips brushed along the smooth skin of her neck making her shiver.
"We can't. Edward we –"
"Say it again. Say my name. I've waited so long to hear you say it."
"Edward," she breathed and her body sagged against his.
His hand gripped her hip keeping her on her feet while his lips burned against the soft, smooth flesh of her graceful neck. She let out a relenting sigh as her hands found their way to his broad, bare shoulders, and slowly, slowly into his wild hair.
He missed this; the smell of her, the feel of her in his arms, the way she tasted so sweet against his lips. Being with her again was like coming home.
He felt her delicate hands move from his hair down to cup his face between them. She pulled him away from her neck so that she could look directly into his eyes. Bella searched for a reason why she shouldn't go on, any reason at all why she should push him away and tell him that what they were doing was wrong but found nothing in his piercing green eyes but longing and regret for the past.
"I've missed you so much," she breathed before pulling him down to her mouth and consuming him, body and soul.
Edward's hands were all over her, caressing, kneading, massaging, and taking in every inch of her he could easily reach. He didn't hesitate to allow his hand to cup her full breast and she didn't try to stop him. He could feel her nipples hardening through the fabric and he was spurred forward with the all encompassing need for more. His hands were far too large to unfasten the buttons on her blouse with any kind of speed without damaging them, so he didn't even try. Fuck it, he thought, I'll just buy her a new one and anything else she wants for that matter. With one strong pull he sent little pearlescent buttons scattering across the locker room floor.
She gasped in surprise but her lust made it difficult for her to care.
Beneath the blouse lay a creamy pink satin and lace bra, but Edward paid it little attention as he pulled the cups down to expose her hardened peaks. He pulled his mouth away from hers only to move directly to the swollen, sensitive places on her breasts. Another gasp escaped her at the sensation of his warm mouth licking and sucking on the taught buds.
"Edward, yes…" she breathed shakily causing him to moan deeply at the sound of his name on her lips.
His hand at her hip slid further down over her thigh before sliding under the hem of her skirt and tugging it upward. While his mouth worked her breasts, his hand cupped her warm, moist sex. She bit her lip and moaned at the feel of him exactly where she wanted him once again. Her head lulled back and smashed into the empty locker causing a resounding crash to echo through the
mostly empty room but even the dull ache in her skull almost seemed pleasurable.
She'd felt this way once before, the first and only night she'd spent with Edward. This man lit her on fire and, little did she know, that she had smoldered for him all this time. Now with just a bit of stoking, the flames burned white hot again as if no time had passed at all.
Bella resolved herself that she was no longer a naive college student. She was a grown woman with her dream job and she was free to enjoy herself, finally at long last.
While Bella convinced herself that she deserved a reward for all of her years of hard work and delayed gratification, Edward marveled at how amazing she felt in his hands. And as he tugged the delicate fabric of her panties to one side he marveled at how warm and smooth she was. And as he parted her with his thick, muscular fingers he marveled at how wet and ready for him she was. She was amazing, and baffling, and entrancing, and frightening all at once.
His only hesitation came when the thought that she might run again crossed his mind. He didn't think he could handle it if she did. He'd waited for so long to have her back in his arms, he'd wanted for nothing but her for years; he couldn't bear to lose her again.
Maybe I should stop and do things right with her, he thought but his baser instincts kept him from putting on the brakes. Fuck it, if she runs I'll follow her to the ends of the earth.
She gasped in surprise and pleasure as he slid one finger inside of her. He removed his mouth from her breast to nibble her lower lip as she mewled and writhed in his hand.
"Does that feel good, baby?" he asked gruffly against her mouth. A deep moan came from the back of her throat. "Tell me, Bella."
"Yes. God, it feels so good," she breathed, her words coming out in short, punctuated syllables.
"Do you want more?"
"Mmm… please." She hardly recognized her own voice; it was so deep and steeped in lust.
"That's my girl." He pressed a second finger into her tight little hole causing her to whimper. After a moment to let her body adjust to the added thickness, he began pumping his fingers in and out of her while his thumb gently massaged her slick pleasure center.
Bella's mind was clouded and unfocused but her instincts guided her hands as they clawed and groped at his hard, muscular shoulders and down his chest. They slid further and further down his torso until they reached the waist of his restrictive shorts which encased his massive erection. She somehow managed to slide her manicured fingers past the elastic of his shorts and began stroking him in her hand.
"Fuck, Bella…" he practically growled. "You're going to be the death of me."
"Why don't you do something about it then?" she purred, then nipped at his ear.
"Yes ma'am." He said with a grin; always the gentleman.
He removed his hands from beneath her skirt, but before she could mourn the loss of contact where she wanted him the most, he was hoisting her up against the lockers, wrapping her legs around him, and effectively pinning her against the cool metal with the weight of his body.
Somehow he'd managed to free himself from the confines of his shorts in the process of lifting her and suddenly she felt him thick and heavy at her center.
In a brief moment of tenderness, when all lust and passion were momentarily forgotten, he looked into her deep brown eyes and silently asked for permission to move forward. He wanted more than anything to be inside of her, feeling her body mold to his, hearing his name falling like prayers from her lips. But he needed to know that she was alright. He had always feared
that maybe the first time they were together she hadn't been ready and that was why she ran. He needed his fear and anxiety put to rest at last.
"Edward," she sighed, sensing his hesitation. "Edward, please. I'm yours. I always have been."
A smug smirk pulled across his lips before crashing them into hers. Tongues explored and twisted inside each other's mouths and Bella breathed in the warm, musky scent of his skin.
And then she felt it; hot, hard and thick, pressing inside of her. Edward's fingers dug into the back of her thighs as he slowly angled his hips upward. Her breath caught in her throat at the new, delicious feeling of being filled totally and completely.
Just like the first time they'd been together; Bella struggled to remain grounded in the moment, to not allow herself to become convinced that this was all a dream. Their eyes locked, brown to brilliant green and they fell into each other, bodies moving in synchronized pleasure.
He moaned and gritted his teeth when he felt himself completely sheathed inside of her once again, the one that got away. Staring deeply into her eyes kept him from immediately falling apart inside of her, no matter how badly his body wanted to. He held the position for a brief moment and savored the feeling of being joined with her again.
"Edward," she breathed. "Please…"
"Hold on tight then, baby," he replied with a smirk, and began driving into her with everything he had. Bella's hands held the hair at the base of his neck in a death grip as she rode his movements, her back flat against the lockers, and her cries echoed off of the cold floor and tiled walls.
"Yes… fuck…" she whimpered against his neck.
"Come for me, baby. Just for me," he practically growled.
With one final exclamation of pleasure, Edward felt the tiny, fragile body he held in his arms go stiff and her muscles grip him tightly from within.
Feeling the sensation overtaking her she moaned, "I'm… cuh…ming… Edward, I'm…" Her simple, barely intelligible declaration sent him over the edge, and he allowed himself to fall headfirst into the pleasure and desire that he'd been lacking for so long.
His movements slowed and her body went slack as they both sank to the floor in a disheveled, heaving mess. He pulled her limp body onto his lap and cradled her in his arms while she continued to tremble. They were quiet for a few moments just drinking each other in. He smelled the sweet fragrance of her skin and felt the silky softness of her hair between his fingers and knew he simply could not lose her again.
"Bella," he whispered against her hair.
"Hmm?" she hummed drowsily.
"Have dinner with me."
"What?" she popped her head up to look at him. "Now?"
"Now, later, it doesn't matter but I'm not going to let you out of my sight until I know where we stand."
She smiled tenderly and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.
"I'm not going anywhere this time, Edward. I promise."
She kissed him again and did the best she could to convince him that her words were true, that she had no intention of leaving his side if he'd have her.
"Edward," she said when she finally pulled away and looked down at her button-less blouse and wrinkled skirt. "Umm… how exactly am I supposed to get out of here looking like this?"
He pulled back and examined her tousled clothing before bursting into laughter.
"We'll think of something," he chuckled. They both fell back into each other's arms as they laughed about how strangely fate works sometimes.
Leave me some love so I know you're still out there! 3
*Ted Bundy was an active American serial killer from 1974 to 1978. January 15th, 1978 Bundy entered the Chi Omega sorority house on the campus of Florida State University through a back door that had been propped open and killed two sleeping women. He then went to another room and severely injured two other women. The entire attack took less than 30 minutes.