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I'm nothing but a monster burning in a hell that only exists in my head. There's no hope left until one harmless glance chances logic and binds two eternal enemies together in a twist of fate. Can the escape from this hell be found in an infuriating dimpled grin? Or is this another dark, dirty trick of my own mind? A forbidden passion, heat, and intense anger—this is no fairytale.

[Disclaimer: Monster is an originally plotted fic. The ideas within this fic are not to be copied in any way, shape, or form—I have not given my consent to any manner of copying. All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the intellectual property of their respective owners. All canon concepts and characters are the property of the Twilight Saga's author, Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended. Similarities are for the sole use of fan fiction, and no profit has been or will be benefited from the posting of this fic.] Emerging Swan Award 2012, nominated into Fandom Choice Awards.

16. Explode

Rating 0/5   Word Count 4710   Review this Chapter

"Would you call me a saint or a sinner?Would you love me a loser or winner?" - The Script.

Chapter Sixteen


May 23rd, 2005.


Black was the only way to describe my world. It was empty, other than the crushing weight of the darkness. Blackness was the only thing in existence. I floated around somewhere beneath it. No matter how hard I tried to push against it, the blackness remained. Still, I didn't give up. I couldn't feel any of my muscles, but somehow, I worked them. Pushing, pushing, pushing.

It took a while, but eventually, there was a flood of light, and the blackness disappeared. My eyes adjusted to the blinding burst of brightness after a moment. I inhaled deeply, feeling my chest rise as my body filled with air. I gagged at the dusty taste of the air around me.

Hospital. That was my first impression of the room. So blank and white, cold and stale. It had to be a hospital. Tubes were slipped under the skin of my left arm, and thin liquid was pumping through them. Instantly, I was suspicious of the place. My free hand swiftly yanked the tube out of my arm. It made a clanging noise while it hit the railing of my bed.

I propped myself up on my elbow, assessing myself. I was dressed in a light blue hospital gown. My skin was a little pink where I'd ripped out the tube, and my hair lay limply on my shoulders. The sudden movement had brought a dull ache in my stiff neck, but otherwise, I seemed completely normal. There was nothing strange about the place. It looked like a normal patient space in a hospital, complete with a cream curtain draped at the front for privacy. I almost allowed myself to relax until memories of the fighting ring, the cell, and the crack of the gun came flooding back. My heart raced, setting off a machine next to my bed.

The sound must have caught some attention, because a moment later, a man with a cheesy smile pushed the curtain aside and slipped into my room. He strolled over to the machine and pressed a tiny button, hushing the annoying thing. The man's smile was still plastered on his face when he stopped to scribble something on a clipboard. He tapped the pen shut, slid it into his front pocket, and finally looked at me.

His eyes caught me by surprise. They were so dark, they were almost all pupil. They were not only black, but black and glazed over. For a second, I almost thought that he was a robot of some sort, until he spoke.

"Good morning, ma'am," the man greeted me in an unnecessarily cheerful tone. "I am Doctor Jensen, here to assist you. Did you have a nice sleep?"

My eyes slanted down to slits, a clear sign of my suspicion. "Why am I here?"

Doctor Jensen chuckled softly. Irritation flared in the pit of my stomach, but I pushed it back, forcing myself to keep my cool. I was having a hard time not getting up and pounding in that crooked nose of his.

"Miss Uley, there is nothing for you to worry about. You have been brought here for help. You're fine, the bullet just missed your brain." Doctor Jensen laughed again, his voice crackling. I instantly didn't like the guy.

"That's why I had to be dragged to a women's jail and shot for speaking? Freedom of speech is still around, you know. That's not even legal. You'd better give me answers, buddy. I don't know what you're joking about, but nobody else is laughing."

Doctor Jensen sighed, but he kept the smile bright and fake. "I see you will be a handful." He paused, his pen racing across his clipboard. While he wrote, his eyes stayed set on me, glassy but focused. "Come with me. You'll have answers soon."

The curtains blew when the doctor pushed them out of the way. He held them clenched in one hand, clearly waiting for me. I remained still for a moment, my suspicions screaming at me not to follow him. But once I thought about it, I knew there was no other choice. I'd probably be drugged again if I sat there, and I wouldn't know if I didn't try to find out myself. I slid off the bed and walked numbly to the doctor, allowing him to place a hand on my neck and lead me down the hall. I was tense, but I behaved to keep myself out of trouble.

As I was ushered down the hall, I carefully glanced around. There was something strange about all of the assistants in their flowing lab coats. One was stationed at every door, standing and smiling a little too widely at nothing as they awaited something to do. I was starting to think this was more of a circus than a hospital. Unless Sam sentenced me to a place of crazies again.

"You'll be okay," the man comforted, placing a hand on my shoulder. "This place is only for counseling. Have you ever been counseled?"

I jerked away from the hand, not caring if it was rude. The man continued to smile, his eyes twinkling with happiness. His stare was glued on me, and I considered ignoring him. But if I wasn't going to cooperate, I knew that these freaks would be even less likely to let me out of this creepy place. I spoke, but kept my answers short and sweet.

"Yes," I muttered bitterly, focusing on the seemingly endless hall. The lights were dimming as we traveled further away from my hospital room.

"Ah, well then, this will be just like that! The methods used here are carefully studied. They've never failed, not once."

I nodded, trying to ignore the darkness of the room. Me plus counseling equals chaos, but it would have been better if the cheerful freak didn't know that. The man continued to usher me down the hall, humming as he stopped, a hand reaching out into darkness. A moment later, I watched while a curtain was moved to reveal a small, cozy room.

The man stepped back, gesturing for me to walk inside. "Feel free to make yourself comfortable. The doctor will be here to see you shortly."

I took a minute before slipping inside the curtains. They fell shut behind me. After the patter of feet faded, I was alone.

I clucked my tongue, my eyes roaming the room: it was plain and empty. An empty bed lay in the center, white as white gets. The floor was white too, speckled with dark grey. The only color in the room seemed to be the peach hue of the curtains, most likely in place to separate the different rooms.

Exhaustion fogged my mind. I'd only just started to realize how tired I was. I paused for a moment, straining to hear the sound of an incoming person. There was only silence.

Listening closer, I realized that it wasn't completely quiet. A hum, like that of a murmuring voice, seemed to be flowing from the corner. I carefully stepped over, hovering over the curtain to get a better idea of what the sound was. It was deep and throaty, very masculine.

Curiosity was stronger than my exhaustion. I was still too tired to think things through, and without thinking at all, I placed my hand on the curtain. Taking a deep breath, I carefully pulled the curtains apart to get a better view of the humming man.

He was dressed in doctor's clothes, his bald head and face shining brightly. Moving around the room with a soft hum escaping his lips, he appeared to be casually searching for something. I watched in confusion until he turned, revealing the object in his arms.

He cradled a baby. Its tender skin was a light shade of pink, eyes bright and dark. Its mouth was open while it made high-pitched baby noises, its chubby hands waving up at the man. The man laughed and murmured something I couldn't really hear, causing the baby to giggle and kick its little feet in response.

I'd never been a baby person, but this little one struck me. It was radiating happiness, bringing brightness to the blank place. Not only that, but it brought a strange, twisted smile to my face.

The man didn't seem to notice my presence. He gently set the bundle on a plain white sheet over the bed. "That's it, you stay right here!" The baby giggled and watched the man with a toothless grin.

"We're gonna make it all better for you! No need to cry all night at all!" Clanging noises boomed in the room. Feet shuffled, hands searched. After a couple minutes, the man turned, holding a clear tube connected to some strangely shaped machine in his hand.

Confusion flooded me while I continued to watch, still safely hidden behind the thin sheet dividing the room. The baby needed tubes stuck in its fragile skin, just because it cried at night? I started to question the reason I was there, in a place where babies were given drugs for something so natural. Unless I was here to be given anti-depressants or to be punished, I didn't think any of these things were necessary for that.

"Wook! WOOK!" The baby bubbled with laughter when the man snapped a thick mask over his face, not paying attention to the squealing child. "WOOK!" Being ignored only caused the baby to make more noise. That got the man's attention, and the baby grinned while it pointed at the mask, and then the tube, its eyes shining with wonder.

Chuckling in amusement, the man turned and placed a strong hand on the baby's revealed tummy. He rubbed it soothingly before tickling under its chin. "Oh buddy," the man whispered, "you'll be okay! Everything will be pretty and easy now!"

The baby clapped his hands together.

"Yes, very pretty!" Giving a chuckle, the man raised his hand from the round stomach, moving things around. Everything was blocked by the struggling baby, so I couldn't see. Suddenly I was washed with unease.

What the man did next caused my stomach to drop to the ground.

He forced the tube down the baby's throat. The baby squeaked and whimpered, his eyes scrunching. Little arms flailed in protest. Still, the man cooed, reaching back to tap his fist over a button somewhere behind him. A lump grew in my throat as I watched a sickly yellow and brown liquid roll through the tube, disappearing into the little mouth of the baby.

Seconds dragged by as the baby thrashed. He gave one final whimper that rose over the man's coos. Seconds passed, and then the waving of its arms slowed before they dropped limp on the table.


Anger swelled inside me. The man hummed and closed the eyes of the baby. He yanked the tube out and tossed it carelessly over his shoulder and into the trash without even turning to look. It was as if he'd gone through this same procedure thousands of times before. In a swift movement, his hand latched on a handle to the cabinet. With a small pull, the door parted to reveal a round, black hole. The man wrapped the blanket over the baby's still face, pushed the body in, and then did something that brought a acidic bile to my throat.

"Bye, baby!" The man's voice echoed down the now empty hole before he turned and casually strolled out of the room, his eyes glazed over and smiling as if he wasn't a murderer.

It took everything I had not to charge after the man and beat him bloody.

How the hell could anybody be so cruel? That man just killed a helpless baby because it cried? Flames spread through my body. I flinched. The heat had been a part of my random anger flashes lately, but I couldn't seem to get used to it.

The flames continued to grow as my anger increased. I took a shaky breath and closed my eyes, trying hard to calm down. I was trying to think of a plan to get out of here, but I couldn't. My thoughts were so jumbled, I couldn't think straight. Until I heard the voice behind me and I froze completely.

"We have the best systems around for counseling," he mocked in a rasp. "Especially for murderous individuals."

The voice was closer to a hiss than an actual voice. The slow, deep tone was almost lazy. Shivers went down my spine. I jerked my head over my shoulder and met the small, serpent-like eyes of the man who spoke.

He was middle aged, with Quileute skin and hair, wearing a dusty black suit. He had hands that folded in his lap, weathered and wrinkled from many days of outdoor labor. His eyebrows were bushy, and he had a face dotted with red blotches. Nothing was special about him, except the "Anderson" name tag clipped to his shirt. I continued to stare.

"Miss Uley," he wheezed. "We meet at last."

"Why am I here?" I demanded. I leaned forward into a defensive stance, feeling the curtains sway and brush against my skin.

Mr. Anderson made a sound somewhere between a bark and a cough; a sort of strangled laugh. His lips stretched like plastic into a hideous smile. "Such a pity that you're a vile creature with a small brain. No wonder the bullet missed." He paused to catch his breath, raising a hand to the indent that was his chest. "You won't be able to escape your fate here."

I could almost feel my temper start to tick underneath my skin as my heartbeat drummed in my ears. "Pity? It's a pity that an old man doesn't have the balls to stand up to a girl. Enough with the games. You're disgusting, inside and out, apparently." I let a sickly sweet smile play on my lips.

That one felt good to get out. But I knew I would be paying for it as the man's dark, sunken eyes started to smolder. "You killed my daughter, Miss Uley. You betrayed the tribe."

"Yeah, I killed somebody. Shit happens." I found myself grinding my teeth together to avoid yelling. I had to lock my muscles together to keep from smacking some sense into the man. "My bad. But locking me up in a Makah jail, our worst enemy, and then planning to keep me here? Excuse me, sir, but that doesn't exactly ring loyal to me."

The man jerked his head around as if in denial. He waved a hand. "I've seen that you are a little rebel. You were a problem ever since you escaped my mental facility on the reservation."

I paused for a moment. All of this crap was connected to him? "Your mental facility?"

His head jerked again. "Yes, yes. Then you were on the loose, but I couldn't catch you." He pulled his hand down into his pocket, swirling it around before tossing a piece of paper at me. I watched the grey, shriveled paper float towards the ground. I stared at the little 'J' scratched into the surface and swallowed.

"Always a little rebel. Well, sweetheart, I must say there is at least a wisp of a sense somewhere in that disturbed mind, since you've been capable of evading me for so long. But now I've finally got you." He smiled in a dangerous way, his eyes brightening. "Time to pay the consequences."

The words went in one ear and out the other. His threat was weightless. The anger bubbled inside of me. My eyes were a dark blue fire and my fist was raised. "If anybody tries to put a tube anywhere near me, I'll rip their throat clean out."

"Oh, will you now?"

"Go ahead. Try me."

Mr. Anderson leaned back in his chair, his lips white from smiling so much. "You deserve much worse. I suppose you could say I have mercy, but also a need for justice. Goodbye, Miss Uley." His dropped his hand to a band on his wrist, pressing one pointed nail on a little button.

"No!" I hurled myself at him, fist raised and ready to pound his face flat. Fight, fight, fight. My mind was telling me to fight. To go against this.

I didn't even get the chance. The curtains blew open as two men in suits rushed in, hooking their arms around mine. One placed a hand on my throat, snapping my head back with a crack. His fingers pressed into my throat, blocking my airways. I thrashed and kicked, but the other man grabbed my legs and twisted them painfully, stilling me.

I stared above me, eyes popping wide as I choked and squirmed. Lights flashed by as I was hurried back. I could hear a beep and click as a door was opened, and then my feet were planted on the ground. One man twisted my arms behind my head while the other stripped off my hospital gown.

"What are you doing?" I demanded, spitting out the words. I glared at the masked man in front of me, seething.

His head lifted to the level of my face. "Taking care of you."

With that, I was shoved into another room. I whipped around, lunging at the door, only to hit glass and fall back against a cool wall. I looked around, confused, until I realized I was standing in a shower. Strange, how they interpreted counseling.

I took a deep breath, running my fingers through my hair and closing my eyes for a moment. The anger was still stirring, making me too hot. So hot, nearly on fire.

"What are you doing to me?" I shouted. I turned, pounding my fists on the door. "WHAT'S GOING ON?"

The only reply as a beeping noise. A pearly while tile on the wall slid open, and a black wave poured out. I could hear the legs skittering over the tile, feel as the tiny legs inched up my body. I jumped back, staring at the little spiders.

I realized that this was my punishment. My punishment was to be bathed in spiders. If I were to fight and look strong, they would make it worse. But if I acted as if it was working. . .

My mouth closed and I squeezed my eyes shut. It was creepy, but bearable. I wrapped my arms around my chest, holding still. At first the sensation was just a crawling tickle that raised goosebumps on my arms. My chest was still as the first wave of spiders reached up it. I didn't even dare to breathe. I tried to count the time away. I was certain I could do it.

Until they started to bite.

The first was a tiny prick on the back of my foot. It hurt about as much as getting poked with a toothpick; not much at all. But soon, others followed after it. The next few bites felt like a hundred hornet stings injected into my skin. The crawling worsened.

I stood there for what seemed like hours. The bites only got worse by the second. I felt like I was on fire, almost as if the spiders were eating away at my flesh. My skin swelled and blood oozed out from various wounds. I couldn't see my body anymore. There was just a moving layer of black, thickening by the moment.

They crawled in my ears, up my nose, and down through my under garments. Spiders, spiders, spiders. My world was turning black with them. There was nothing there but the fire on my skin, the sting of their bites, the skittering of their tiny legs on the tile. I saw flashes of crimson and maroon while my chest squeezed, aching from the lack of oxygen. I showed no tears, but let it all happen.

It could have been seconds, minutes, hours, or even days. I wasn't sure. But eventually, after torture like I'd never imagined, the pain reached its peak. My muscles grew weak and I crashed head first into the edge of the shower, crippled by the sudden burst of it. I couldn't think anymore, but I knew one thing: I was dying.

My shoulders slumped in defeat and. . .

Ha-ha. Right.

Giving in wasn't an option. I was still stubbornly fighting against all of this with my final bits and pieces of energy. I forced my legs to lift my body up. My hands braced against the walls, feeling fuzzy and useless. I coughed and choked, my arms and legs shaking so hard it sent vibrations through the shower.


The thoughts were fading now as blackness started to overcome me. I held myself up and spit, sending spiders away from my lips. I took a breath, freeing my throat.


There was no response. Somehow, I knew that monster of a man could hear me. I could almost see him standing in front of a screen, laughing as I was being taken over by a slow, painful death.

"No!" My words came louder now, defiant. My arms thrashed and my feet kicked as I flung packs of spiders from my body. I slammed myself into the door again, leaving behind a black and purple splatter of spider flesh and blood. I exhaled sharply, sending out another stream of spiders as I swayed in place, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. My body trembled, and then shook, and then when I finally couldn't take it anymore, I exploded.

It was almost as if I left my body. The heat inside me bubbled as it shot through my veins. Bursts of flames licked through my veins. My hands and legs shot forward, seeming to stretch, and I could feel my body twist. I collapsed onto a wave of spiders, my face being covered with a thick mask of my own blood.

But I wasn't done fighting.

I was filled with heat. Deep heat. Not the heat that came from laboring under a baking sun. Not the kind of heat that came in curls of steam from a toasty shower. Not even the heat that seemed to fry and melt your skin that came from being too close to a fire.

It was so much more extreme than that. The heat burst inside me; a shot of crackling embers forced into my body. The heat spilled into my veins, flowing along with them. I found my body jerking and twisting as the heat constricted around my heart. I didn't fight it, but let it strip through my skin, bone, and muscle. I let the heat strip me dry into something else completely.

The burst of heat had given me new strength. My vision was murky and my other senses seemed dull, but I still knew what to do. My arms, feeling tickly and wobbly, moved forward. It was a long shot, but I was hopeful, confident in myself.

At first, there was nothing. Then, my ears popped open, and I could hear the whoosh, boom, crackle, splash as the glass broke. Hearing seemed so much stronger now, so much clearer. I heard every piece of glass drop to the ground and then bounce, sliding across the surface. It was almost as if I could hear the air in the room blasting away.

I didn't want to waste a second. I landed on my hands and knees, but I didn't stop there. My vision was still too clouded to see, but I rushed forward anyway. I shook my shoulders, my sides tipping left and right while spider after spider fell free. My skin was still burning, but the pain was easing.

My heart swelled as I kept moving. Faster, faster, faster. The door must have been open, because I didn't stop there, but I could feel the smooth texture of tile change into a rough surface as I burst into the hallway. I could see little edges of the sides and tops of my vision now. The hallway was empty.

I forced myself to move faster. Light softly glowed above me. I let out a breath through my mouth, focusing my hearing ahead as the lights grew brighter and brighter.

That was when I heard the shouts.





Doubt squeezed the hope inside me, but I ignored it. I pushed my legs faster. I rounded the corner swiftly with amazing precision. I could see the light gleaming in the main room, sparkling onto the wide glass doors. An escape.

I was going to escape. I was going to make it. I was going to be free. I darted forward, not at all tired, and forced myself through the glass. I huffed while it shattered around me, and the feeling of the floor disappeared into rough, wet ground.

The forest wasn't far ahead. I could smell the scent of it stronger than ever, wrapping around my nose. I dove into the cover of the trees and raced down the slope until I was deep into the tree cover, hidden by the brush.

I growled once, feeling my lips stretch as I did so. Free. I was free; I had escaped. I considered turning back and bashing straight through the hospital to raise chaos, but figured that might draw to much attention. I lifted my head towards the sky, taking in a breath to give a shout of victory.

But my voice wasn't there. When I spoke, it came out as a yelp, a sound of surprise. Confused, I shook my head and cleared my throat, trying once again. The sound was exactly the same as before.

I swallowed, thinking maybe there was something stuck in my throat. Nothing seemed to be, though. Maybe it was just a wound. I tried raising my hands to feel my throat, but the movement caused me to topple backwards. I crashed into a bush, thorns jabbing at me.

The confusion grew stronger. I took another breath and shook my head again. Okay, so maybe my balance was still off. My vision was still black on the bottom and edges, after all. Glancing around, I spotted a puddle and decided it would be wise to hydrate myself.

I jogged over the puddle of clear, fresh rainwater, expecting to just lean over the water and take a few gulps. But as I peered over the water, my heart stopped.

I wasn't there.

Staring back at me was a blue-eyed white wolf, its eyes narrowed in suspicion. I made another one of those yelping noises, jumping back and swinging my head from side to side to look for the animal. My breath was quick and fast, my heart hammering in my chest. Wolves weren't commonly spotted, but there had been attacks before. I swallowed, waiting a few seconds, expecting the wolf to leap out at me. But it didn't.

I blinked. Maybe it had gotten scared and ran away. I jogged toward the puddle again, leaning over to take my drink and be done with it.

Again, there was the wolf. It stared back at me, its eyes narrowed again. I paused for a moment. I leaned to the left. The wolf in the puddle mirrored me. I leaned to the right, and so did the wolf.

What the hell?

I stared, frozen, a million thoughts rushing through my head. Impossible. It must have been the poison of the spiders, playing tricks on my mind. But what about all the people who had screamed when I had rushed past? Why had they done that?

I was snapped back out of reality when I heard a voice. The voice was clear as day, but I knew it was in my mind, because I was alone. I knew that voice. It was the same rough but comforting voice I'd just heard the other day. It was impossible, but I heard the words in my head, as clear as they could be, and there was no denying it.

Surprising, ain't it?