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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.

24. Rejected

Rating 0/5   Word Count 2313   Review this Chapter

"Slowly sinking, wasting." - Ed Sheeran.

Chapter Twenty Four


I clear the porch stairs in a single stride, my hand twisting around the slick knob as I slip through the open door. Dawn has yet to break, leaving Sam's house covered with a layer of darkness. I stand still for a moment, my head tipped to one side as I allow my senses to roam through every inch of the house: tasting scents, straining to hear movements, and feeling for the warmth of a presence.

The house is completely still.

Good. I nod once to myself, heading toward the stairs. I pause as a dash of color catches my eye. I glance to the left, noticing a white slice of paper tacked to the wall. I tear the paper free while my eyes scan through the words.

Hey honey. I know youre going to be home late and you will need to selep. Todays the day when the pack is schedled to go out fr the chase. Ill come home wake you early enough to take a quick sweep of the borders with Nic but please get some rset. If you sleep you only have to clsoe your eyes and the next thing you kmow Ill be waking you up. No nihgmtares.

Love you


Droplets of water leak onto the paper, staining the note. I read through the hastily scribbled words once more with a slight scowl. Nightmares? Please sleep? Love you? I crumple the paper in my hands.

"I'm not three anymore, Sam," I mutter to myself. "But thanks for giving a damn."

I chuck the paper into the wastebasket as I make my way upstairs. At least he is giving me a little credit, allowing Nicole and me to take the border check. Now, if only Nicole can learn to show me some respect before I have to tear it into her with my own teeth.

The house is the same as it always is, I notice. I haven't been in the house much since my arrival. The habit of sleeping beside a tree and the freedom from the confinement of those thick walls has yet to fade, even as the weeks have flown by. I reach the top of the stairs, my eyes shooting down the narrow hall. The walls and floors are both wood, shining as if they have recently been waxed. Dust lines the floor where the wall and floor meet, but it's nothing that a human will ever notice. The air is crisp—breezes spill through the window at the end of the hall, the roof angling over it to shield the inside of the house from the battering rain.

My room is all the way at the end of the hall, closest to the window, and I stop before the door. My fingers brush over the knob, a thin layer of dust grabbing onto my skin upon contact. I turn my wrist slowly, the door creaking as if the movement is painful. I push the door open and slide into my room, closing the door behind me.

Nothing has changed about my room, either. Simple colored furniture, wood floors and walls, a closet on the far side, and a window across from my bed. Everything is just how I like it, simple and neat enough to pass as clean.

I hum under my breath as I fall back onto my bed, landing in a sitting position. I pull my legs to me, crossing them Indian style. I smirk as my legs poke over the edge, the length of them too long for the bed. I am just about to stretch them back out when something catches my eye.

A notebook lay on the floor, peeking out from the foot of my bed. It is nothing more than a simple brown cover with pages in between, barely held together by a flimsy binding. I recognize it instantly, remembering seeing it in Nicole's hands. I can picture her waving it around, taunting me. I exhale slowly and lean to the side, catching the notebook in my fingers while pushing it open with my thumb. I study the pages carefully and rest it on my lap.

The notebook is still crisp and clean, not showing any signs of being on the floor for the past two and a half years. I leaf through the pages, taking time to look over the contents of the notebook. Everything is crafted in pencil and still well done, even though it's all the result of a five-minute period of free time. The pages hold drawings of grass with morning dew, and wolves running through the trees. There are even a few taped-in pictures of Sam, Nicole, and me together. One page has the Quileute alphabet, each of the letters sculpted carefully in my curly handwriting. I continue through the notebook until I notice one particular entry. A scowl darkness my expression at the sight of the words, but my fingers pause as I read it.

What is there in life but the promise of another hell tomorrow? Maybe there isn't even that left for me; at least, not here. Nothing feels right anymore. This isn't me. I know it. There is something missing, and until I find it, I'll never be anybody. Maybe, just maybe, you have to lose yourself before you find yourself.

I feel my blood heat up as my gaze drags across the words a fourth time, but even then, they remain the same. My finger skims across the page before turning it over. I flip through the rest of the book, finding the rest to be empty. This entry is the last one written.

A soft breeze slips into my room, caressing my face and neck. I raise my gaze and fix it blankly on the window as I slowly lower myself down. The notebook tumbles out of my fingers, gently falling shut as it hits the ground. I turn over and press my face into my pillow, forcing my eyes to squeeze shut as I struggle to bring sleep to my mind.

But as I try to force myself into slumber, my mind continues to work. I can't help but think.

After the leech's ashy remains are heading down river, maybe I should be off again. There is no point in sticking around just for another worthless, rainy day. The pack might be my family, but my purpose is not to live in a cramped house and run the muggy lines. My purpose is somewhere else. I can feel it, as real as blood and bone. My purpose is to kill, and I will not stop for anything.

Besides, I don't know how to do anything else.

I roll over in my bed, pressing my face into the cool surface of my pillow. What the hell, is it really this hard to sleep? Just breathe. In, out. In, out. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Deep

An obnoxious bang on the walls beneath me interrupts my thoughts. I growl softly under my breath and roll over, sliding my hands through my hair. I squint against the thin beams of morning light, my eyes adjusting quickly. The knocking comes again—once, twice, and then there is a crashing sound, as if someone has just broke the door down.

I am on my feet in an instant, moving down the hall with my body crouched defensively. I slide across the wall, my head turning around the corner to peer down the stairs. Sam probably is home now, coming home to check on me. Or maybe it's just Nicole being a dumbass. Or maybe it's time for the chase.

My heart swells with the excitement of a possible fight, but it fades quickly just a moment later as I catch a familiar odor. Paul's musky scent fills my nostrils, bringing another scowl to my face. What the hell is he doing here this early? Is the guy nocturnal?

"Jordan." Paul's voice is deep and sure as he acknowledges me. I watch from the top of the stairs as he shuts the door behind him and folds his muscled arms across his bare chest. He leans back against the wall, as if waiting for me to come to him.

"Paul." I keep my voice smooth and sure, but I do not move. My instincts warn me of something, although I am not sure of what it is. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Paul huffs and walks toward the stairs, leaning against the railing. I can see him clearly now. His skin is damp and covered with droplets of rain, his hair spiked and his dark eyes filled with a strange gleam. He speaks slowly. "Just wanted to stop by. I saw you coming home, and I thought I'd stop in."

I raise one eyebrow, then the other, studying him carefully. "Not good enough."

Paul chuckles, stepping forward while spreading his arms across the width of the stairs. Naturally, my instinct starts to scream at the chance of a blocked exit. Paul doesn't seem to notice my tension—he merely smirks at me, his expression hidden under his spike of bangs. "Maybe I've just had a little something special."

A soft growl slips through my teeth as I lock my gaze with his. The gleam in his eyes is completely unnatural—much too bright and happy. "You're fucking wasted, Paul."

"What?" Paul abruptly throws his head back and laughs. "No!"

"Paul," I warn him, my jaw tightening. I can feel my muscles start to twitch, my body temperature rising. I lock my jaw into place, willing myself to stay in still. I need to stay still, keeping the monster at bay. Paul's not going to do anything.

I take back that thought just a moment later.

It happens so quickly that even I don't see it coming. I never, ever imagined something like this happening.

Suddenly, Paul launches himself at me. The movement is sloppy and slow, but I am in the middle of locking myself down and I can't dodge it. Paul all but tackles me back into the wall, pressing himself up against me. I don't even have time to think as he leans down, crashing his lips against mine.

The kiss is not bad. No, it is not bad at all. His warmth spreads through me, passing through my body like a shot of pure, pleasurable fire. His hands slide around my waist and to my back, pulling me against him.

Once the reality of what is happening hits me, I react faster than I can even think. My hands snatch his arms and twist them back, prying him off me. I deliver a powerful kick to his gut. The blow knocks Paul down the stairs, sending him crashing head first. Paul's back slams into the door, and he grimaces before lying in a heap on the floor.

I can't stop myself there.

My body swings up onto the railing, and I land softly at the bottom, feeling my heels crack the floor. I am in motion a moment later. I grab Paul by the neck and smash him back into the wall, unbothered by the gurgle of his breathing. My shaking hand finds the knob and hurls the door open, sending it crashing into the wall. I can feel Paul's hot fingers trying to pry my grip loose, but the struggle only causes my hold to tighten. I kick the door back as it swings toward me before I force Paul's body outside in one powerful shove.

I remain in the doorway as Paul rolls down the stairs before finally stopping in a thick, muddy puddle. My breathing is rapid as my mind races, trying hard to keep up with one another. My fingers curl into my palm as I stare at him, waiting for a reaction.

Paul slowly picks himself up off the ground. Blood streams from his nose. He wipes his arm across his upper lip, clearing it off. He then slowly raises his head to stare at me. There is a moment's pause before he flashes a grin, his echoing laugh bouncing around the halls.

"Well." Paul stands shakily, nodding his head and he inhales. "I got rejected, didn't I?" He glances up at my still form, and then nods. "Yep. I bet you still liked it."

"Get out!" I demand through chattering teeth.

Paul raises his hands, turning in a full circle before he takes an uneasy step forward. "Fine, fine. I'll see you later, then. Don't come back for more so quickly, though. You…you owe me one." Paul laughs once more, and then staggers into the green of the forest, disappearing.

For a moment, I continue to stand there, staring after him. His scent lingers in the air; a heavy reminder of what just happened. Slowly, time comes back to me and I whirl around, my fist going into the wall. My free hand lashes forward and curls around the hole before ripping a large chunk out. I snap back around and swing my arm forward in one smooth movement, pitching the chunk of the wall into the door.

Shit. Calm down. Deep breaths. In, out. I rake my hands through my hair before dropping my foot back and heading into my room, leaving the mess unattended. Inhaling deeply, I slip back into my bed, my body still quivering as if it is filled with tiny sparks of contained energy.

I throw the pillow over my head, leaning into my mattress. I take in deep, slow breaths as my head spins. Damn Paul for doing something like this right before the chase. I don't need something like this now—I need to focus. I draw in another deep breath before squeezing my eyes shut, attempting to demand sleep to come to me.

It never gets close.