WARNING: Mentions of sexual assualt and rape

"Aumentalo, Jane."

Josh's screams and shrill shrieks permeated the air after the short burst of pensive waiting, the chains binding him to the chair rattling with a frenzy as he threshed his malnourished body, an eruption of excruciating sensations sweeping over him like a merciless flood.

"Stop! Stop...please..." He weeped, breath rasping out with exhaustion from deep within his chest. He was nearly too frail to form the words and slur them out.

To torture him further, the pain flared like a wild fire and worsened, regardless of his begging it pricked at his skin and ate away at his sensitive nerves, digging into his gray–tinted flesh like thousands of tiny serrated hooks that aimed to tear skin from muscle. "N–no... please, PLEASE!"

"Enough now, Jane. I still need him to be competent enough for speech, bambina."

As if it had never been assaulting him at all, the pain just...stopped. The only indication he had been under its dark spell at all was the shocked twitching and spasming of his muscles and tendons.

Josh knew it was foolish, but he drank in this short instant of peace greedily, for its sweetness was something of a miracle to him these days.

Yes...peace was now a distant friend, and even with its hushed beauty surrounding him there was no escape from what Aro had done. Josh was completely deteriorated, no better than a decaying cadaver that had been unearthed from its grave.

His head dropped so his chin pressed against his chest and the only thing stopping his body dropping to the floor like a deadweight were those same chains that wrapped around him in a cold and apathetic embrace.

Aro had taken it upon himself to push Josh's body to its limit in the unknown amount of time he had been there, keeping it so he was just on the brink of dehydration and starvation. His mouth and throat were dry as dust, thin lips peeling and split into bloody cracks like the glass of a mirror that had been smashed by some harsh impact.

Then there was the thirst...a terrible one that gripped his thoughts constantly, not at all quenched by the small trickle of water Jane grudgingly gave him yesterday...or was it today?

Time, like peace, was a distant memory to him now.

His stomach moaned, harassed by an aching hollow feeling of hunger that was not close at all to ebbing away, not even by the strange mysterious slop Jane would stuff in his mouth with hostility. Slop that was noxious and acidic and revolting. It caked the front of his khaki t–shirt, a result of him spitting it out when he couldn't stomach it.

The pain in his abdomen was sharp, as if there was some invisible red hot poker buried deep in his gut, just as bad as the pain Jane inflicted on him daily.

He had grown to fear that deceiving, sweet looking little girl more than even the menacing Aro, and as she squinted down at him now, he thought he would rather be as dead as the corpse he resembled than have her cherubic face laughing down at him any longer.

"As you wish, Master."

Jane tipped her head in respect to the bodeful figure in the corner of the damp stony room, all broad smiles and sly, irksome snake-like eyes brimming with satisfaction when she took in Josh's weary state.

Mary Jane shoes scraped against the grimy gray concrete floor and with all the grace that would be expected from a seasoned ballerina, Jane stepped back and gyred around, sharing a much warmer smile with her brother who stood like a soldier on command in the doorway, awaiting orders.

Aro was cunningly quiet, hands pressed to his lips in a thoughtless imitation of prayer, back against the wall to the left of Joshua, shoulder blades digging into the hard stone.

Stuffing a hand into his navy trouser pocket, he watched with ill-tempered recompense as Josh became almost boneless and whimpered plea after plea. Aro's mind, of its own violation, flashed with the image of Nora in a similar state, paralyzed and helpless and crying.

Begging for salvation.

Aro inhaled sharply and whipped his head to the right, every corner of his memory disbursed with anguish.

He hoped beyond all hope that the action would rid him of the cruel image...but he knew, despite everything, that it was a lost cause. That tragedy still haunted him every hour of every day, no matter how hard he tried to get rid of it and he wondered, each time it rooted itself in his psyche, if it was a punishment set by the divine. If it was some sort of personal hell for all of the things he had done.

It was always there in his mind's eye. The face of his little love screwed up in hurt and suffering she had never deserved, red and sweaty and warped into an expression of torment by the force of her soft, strangled cries. Torment he couldn't even begin to understand or heal.

Everyday he had to watch, he had to see her struggle and fight, her fear and terror and deminishing hope that she could survive like a dagger to his heart when she accepted there was nothing she could do to stop it–when she was brave enough to just have to...wait, until it was over.

His rage with the vile being in front of him spiked dangerously and he ran his tongue over his teeth, attempting ignorance against his bloodlust that pressed against the borders of his control to take over and tear the boy's throat out.

He supposed it would be so easy, just a quick bite, a fast snap of his mighty jaws. How effortless it would be to tear into the flesh of the boy's neck like it was nothing, bathing in the rouge liquid giving Joshua life would be such a sweet reward.

"No..." Aro grumbled to himself, clenching his fists and distractedly yanking at the material of his leather gloves.

He couldn't. He wouldn't.

He was doing this for her, he would be aghast with himself if he spoiled it and ended the wretch's misery too soon. Composing himself, he rolled his stiff neck and placed his eyes back upon the diabolical soul that had crawled from hell, friendzedly undoing the first two buttons of his black shirt with a flick of his wrist. He was so riled up that it felt like it was choking him.

"Do you know, Joshua, I had to turn down the offer of a day relaxing with my darling to be here...with you." Aro sounded so unimpressed that Josh became embarrassed at how little he really mattered. Why was he putting him through all of this if he meant so little to him? If he was really that worthless to this guy?

In his world, Josh knew he was everything.

People practically fell over their feet just to be acknowledged by him, to be seen by him. He was someone who was important, who was exalted and respected and who had opportunities, prospects collected and given to him to build a magnificent life...a life not many could even hope or dream to attain.

It was all very different now.

Here, in this pit of civilization, in this new world that had been right under his nose where the oddities and the supernatural claimed their domain, he meant nothing. He was nothing.

The only attention he received anymore was a bitter pill to swallow, because there was no fascination or idolization for his wealth, for his looks or his intelligence.

He was seen...his monstrous side was known...and he despised it.

To not have to face that, he spent his time now prothetizing about his charismatically evil captor. When he was alone in the dark, when it was just him, he pondered over the man who had ruined his life. He got some hard won peace from his reflection he knew Aro would resent.

He had come to realize that it takes a monster to recognize a monster...maybe a monster who was just as bad, if not worse, than him.

"I'm sure you yourself are aware of how much of a downgrade this is for me." Aro stated boredly while the boy's small attention span was snatched up in his thoughts.

A downgrade it was indeed. Given the choice, he would rather be cooped up in a comfortable bed with his gorgeous girl than here, with this little brat. But he had a job to do, vengeance to reep, a mind to ruin so Josh would be on the brink of insanity by the time Nora would come to know of him.

Each flowing step Aro took to be closer to Josh was reminiscent of the chiming bells of doom sounded before a disaster to the boy. "Neglect your ignorance and stubbornness, admit to your offenses and this will all soon come to an end. I will leave you to that peace you so adore. Even against my better judgment. You know this by now, Joshua. If you want me to leave...all you need do is speak on your sins."

Josh trembled, harsh grunts escaping through his nose as he slowly pulled his body back up, pearls of sweat tracking down his dirty, oily face. Drooping back into the aged and mite ridden ladderback chair, his teary blue eyes tried to invoke any sympathy he mistakenly assumed Aro had.

"Please, Mr Baldissare, I haven't done anything. I haven't. I don't know what Nora's told you, but you know how women are." He panted out a jumpy, quick laugh as if he wasn't in the wrong, as if they were friends.

He was blind, having no idea of the storm–the rage brewing behind Aro's threatening front, the contours and lines of his seraphically beautiful face distorted when that rage built with every word spilling from his mouth, with every attempt Josh made to tarnish Nora's character.

"She wanted it, she practically begged me to fuck her, she–agh!"

Josh choked and hacked, his face and the whites of his eyes bleeding red when Aro's gloved hand wrapped in a restricting hold around his throat, steadily destroying his airways. Josh's vertebrae crunched, a gut–churning noise, his already damaged flesh bruising as easily as a peach.

"Hold your tongue you impudent pest, lest I rip it from your lying mouth!" Aro grit out through his bared teeth, lips furled in an aggressive manner that made Josh jolt from left to right as he fought to scramble back, his weak human body vibrating with such power he appeared to be seizing.

Aro's face was kept close to Josh's so he could see every twinge and twitch of muscle responding to trauma, every shallow and painful breath the boy tried to force into his lungs.

He clicked his tongue behind his teeth, still feeling like it wasn't enough. Nothing ever would be for what he had done.

"Do not think for even a second that I do not know what you did, because I do. I simply wanted to hear it from the serpent's mouth, but I see now that is foolish. You are too cowardly, too coddled and shielded from responsibility to ever own up to the atrocious things you have done." Aro shoved the boy away after delivering the bitter truth Josh didn't want to hear. The power behind the simple, gentle push of his arm made the chair teeter on its back legs for a moment before Josh's weight steadied it out.

Josh inhaled quick, croaky gasps of mold laden air, his heart seized by panic, his blood running so quickly through his veins he heard it rush like a thunderstorm in his ears.

Aro heaved a sigh, curling his hands that itched to cause more damage behind his back so he didn't act on the deadly thoughts pleading to be untethered and let loose upon the weakling before him.

"Luckily for you, I can't kill you." Aro confessed with regret, though he made sure to squash the subtle spark of peace flickering over Josh's filthy face. "Not yet, at least."

Effectively, that hope turned back into fear, fear that was amplified and made Josh wish the building would collapse in on itself and kill him so that Aro could not. At least that way, this would all be over on his terms.

"The only reason you are still living is because of her, because I want her to have peace before your inevitable end when she decides she wants to take it...but mark my words." Aro's muscled arm darted out and he fisted a handful of the boy's filthy hair in his hand so he could force his head back, standing over him with an aura of brutality.

Their eyes clashed, and the certainty...the pledge of oncoming punishment in Aro's made Josh fall into a deeper spiral of despair. "I have already killed one annoying, cocky boy this week who all but signed his own name away to death when he hurt her. So, if you dare to say such things about her again, if you dare to speak her name or even think of her, I will let my greed win out...and I will kill you. You won't know how, you won't know when, but I can guarantee you. When I do choose to come for you, you had better have hope that the Devil pity's your weak soul and hurries to claim you first, because I'm going to make you suffer."

Josh sobbed like a pathetic little boy and Aro laughed as the boys ripped and worn charcoal jeans were stained with piss.

Visage soiled by pure disgust, he violently released Joshua, tearing a clod of greasy hair from his scalp. The sting and burn made the weak boy screech and curse in pain as blood trickled down his face. He gagged, the need to vomit strong, but nothing would come up. Aro had made sure of that.

Smiling at his suffering, Aro turned and marched from the room with Jane and Alec following at his heels, two silent shadows.

He was fulfilled deep within his soul to know that for the remainder of his time on Earth, the vile being that was Joshua Goodman would spend every waking moment...every slow second anticipating his gruesome end.

Anticipating the end to his horror just as Nora had been forced to do.

The expensive living room area of the deluxe King suite of the Fairmont olympic hotel, one of the oldest and most prestigious in Seattle, was filled with peace and quiet.

The fire in front of the provence coffee table glowed a vibrant, sultry amber and filled the room with warmth for Nora's benefit, combating the cold from the rain that belted down outside.

Marcus stared out of the palladian windows at the murky skyline of Seattle, a whiskey glass brimming with thick, warm blood in his left hand, his other loosely placed in his pinstripe navy suits pocket. His hair was pulled back into a loose and elegant ponytail, his leather shoe scuffing against the floor absentmindedly, a tick that occurred when he was deep in thought.

He took a measured sip, licking the garnet stains from his lips, listening to Caius sketch away. The sound of charcoal against paper was a common one that he was used to, he enjoyed it despite the harsh scraping as his brother's passion for the arts took over.

He honed his head to the side when his ears picked up something, lips touched with a small smirk when his delicate hearing was assaulted with the sound of Nora's voice traveling from the bathroom in the adjoining bedroom that she had just disappeared into. While it was beautiful in pitch, what she was singing was certainly not.

She had only just left them after a lengthy phone call with her father that had knocked the energy out of her, all mainly focused on Bella's progress.

Her sister was doing better–sad and depressed but no longer trapped in a brainwashed cloud of jumbled thoughts of Edward. Bella had thanked her many times for 'waking her up', to which Nora had brushed her gratitude aside.

'Selfless as always.' Marcus mused as he thought on the day's events, surveying with interest the glum storm clouds rolling in.

Nora had assured Bella that she had no need to thank her and that she'd be back before they left to check up on her again, something Marcus thought was wise.

Now that the young Swan girl was free from Edwards mind control, he saw no harm in meeting her properly, starting fresh after their unfortunate few meetings they had shared in the past. She was Nora's sister, afterall and while he didn't particularly care about her, he would be pleasant and somewhat polite.

It was uncertain whether his brothers would agree or see fit to act the same.

His dear Nora had then spent the remainder of the phone call talking with and uplifting her father; who thanks to Caius's strategic ways and tactful story, believed the tale that Edward had simply opted to leave town three days ago, like he had done before, and wasn't coming back.

Charlie had been overjoyed.

After she had hung up, slightly stressed but wanting not to think about it, she had cuddled up between them both and insisted they watch some terrible programme.

Some dramatized reality show called Keeping up with the Kardashians.

Marcus wasn't one for human pastimes such as Tv like Caius was, so he had just complacently agreed to make her happy, assuming he could put up with it.

By the end of just one episode, he had been ready to scratch out his eyes rather than endure another second of catty fights, glitter and fanfare.

It was over now and he couldn't be more grateful.

He veered on his feet and leant his lower back on the wall besides the windows, to speak to Caius who was splayed out on the couch, one knee bent up so he could balance his large black, leather bound sketchbook on it.

His fierce, knife-edged features were set with concentration as he etched every detail he could remember of Nora into a stunning picture that imitated life. His simple white tee was stained with smudges, others going unseen on his black jeans.

It was a relaxed look for him, but that was what he was. Relaxed and free from worry and the stress of his duties.

It was a rare occasion, as it wasn't often they ever got to just let loose. There was always some trouble occurring in their world that called for their attention.

But he knew that Renata, Chelsea and Corin, who had been left in charge in their absence and who updated them daily, had it under control. Of all the guards, he and his brothers had explicitly put their trust and full faith in them. The three women had earned it with their years of diligent service, but he saw no issue in being the one to dole out any punishments required should they screw it up.

So while he had a moment now, he took the time to let his inspirations take over, sketching the reason for his happiness with such devoted dedication he didn't get even a small detail wrong.

There was an unanswered question troubling Marcus and he wanted to share it, but he was aware Caius knew nothing of Aro's whereabouts and where he had run off to, just like he himself did not. It would be remiss of him to even waste the time to ask.

Often, Marcus was astounded by his charming, engaging brother's secrecy. Aro was...an odd man, one that even after three thousand years, Marcus still struggled to understand. He could know all about you from a single touch, but when it came to his own mind and its workings, he was blank and kept anything of importance locked away in a safe. A vault that could only be explored when he desired for it to be so.

This was different, though. Marcus could feel it. He was going to have to interrogate Aro at some point about these little ventures taking up so much of his time.

Whether Aro would be truthful was another thing entirely.

Both he and Caius respectively paused what they were doing and listened with amused smirks on their faces when Nora's voice got louder, singing to her heart's content to some bizarre song that was rather vulgar.

"So I get off the stage right, drop the mic. Walk up to these hot chicks and I'm all like, "Sup? Ladies, my name's Slim Shady. I'm the lead singer in D12 baby,""

Nora sang the masterpiece of a song obnoxiously, yanking the brush through her semi–dry hair that had gotten longer, enough to brush her waist now. It only meant she had more painful knots that she just couldn't get out.

Shrugging away the pain resonating from her scalp, Nora closed her eyes and bopped her head, spinning along on the sleek black tiles as she danced and exaggeratedly imitated Eminem.

"They're all like, "Oh my God it's him! Becky, oh my fuckin' God it's Eminem!", "I swear to fuckin' God, dude you fuckin' rock, please Marshall please let me suck your–OH FUCK!"

Nora's heart squeezed and fluttered in fright–and it hurt like a bitch.

She didn't manage to stifle the curse that exploded from her mouth as her eyes flew open, her fear magnified when a pair of red orbs glowed from the shadows of the doorway.

Nora struggled for air when she inhaled, dropping the brush on the floor with a clatter so she could hold a hand over her heart that was still severely contracting away.

"Aro! What the hell do you think you're doing?! You scared the crap out of me!"

"I am so sorry, my darling." He really didn't look it, still grinning at her through the mirror, right shoulder leant on the wood of the doorframe.

How she loathed that arrogant, beautiful face.

"Oh of course, your remorse is practically palpable." She remarked dryly, shaking her stiff shoulders to relieve them of their sudden rigidness. Fuck, he'd really scared her.

Try as she may, there was no glossing over the worry his smile inspired in her. Any characteristics of his that she loved were gone, or rather fakely imitated and she detected with some concern that he was dreary.

It was always that way when he went on one of his little private escapades...he looked tired, fed up, like someone who'd just come back from their grueling 9–5.

Nora faltered in place when she spied that, just peeking out from under his sleeve and coating his white wrist, was dried blood.

He moved his arm promptly and like that it was covered. Nora was iffy, wondering if he'd seen her watching, but nevertheless she tried to appear as if she hadn't. Aro was keen to pretend he was okay and that nothing was wrong and Nora wouldn't snoop, she hated it enough when people picked at her.

But he would tell her...she would make him. All it would take was a little persuasion.

Collecting herself, Nora scrunched her nose at him light-heartedly and bent to pick up her brush, catching him in the antique overmantel mirror when she stood straight, openly ogling at her ass.

"Seriously?" She ridiculed.

She literally was in boxer shorts and a plain black bra that was meant for comfort. How was that hot to him?

He shrugged without any shame, barely getting over his infatuated leering of her body. "I am a man, darling and you look enticing." She bit her lip at the crude compliment, shuffling her body when he cleared his throat, red iris's swallowed by black.

"You cannot fault me for appreciating the beauty before me." Appreciating, in this case, meant raking his eyes over her as if she were a gourmet meal...or she supposed better fitted to him, a glass of whatever the hell type of blood he liked best?

He had the decency to be somewhat chastened, but it didn't seem to matter that she thought she looked plain, he gaped like she was Aphrodite herself and she blushed a hot red.

Knowing he wasn't going to grace her with anything more to say anytime soon, Nora shook her head with a dismissive grumble. "Men are strange creatures."

She let him marvel at her in the dumbfounded way he was and placed the brush on the black marble counter connected to the sink, pulling the oversized black tee that had been chucked there over her head so she no longer stood in just her underwear.

Nora was sure that would have disappointed him, but he even watched with fascination as she did that. From the look on his face you would think she was performing some elaborate striptease.

Switching the light off, she softly pushed him out into the living area, distracted as she felt the hard planes of his muscular chest under her hands. The cold coming from his skin sent tingles to her fingers and he looked amazing, even when slightly rain drenched. His hair shone, his face glistening with light dew and his heady smell of wood, leather and the soft sigh of sandalwood was encompassing her.

He watched her heatedly as she checked him out, their roles reversed.

He was just...so pretty. Too pretty.

'No–focus!'

Nora's lips were pinched when she glared up at him, ignoring Marcus and Caius as they muttered secretly to each other like two gossiping old ladies, Marcus standing behind the back of the couch with a glass full of something red...yeah, she probably didn't want to know. Best not to brood about it.

She nearly crumpled with giggles when she caught Caius whispering about the Kardashians, something about Kim swinging her bag and how hilarious her squeaky voice had been. She knew that though Marcus hadn't liked it, it was right up Caius's alley. He loved drama just as much as a group of cliquey fourteen year old girls.

"When did you even get here, Aro? I didn't hear you come in." With slowness, she slid her hands from his chest, her pace allowing her to feel his abs.

'Damn, he's so fine.'

He let her essentially grope him and shrugged his billowing trench coat from his lithe form, dropping it carelessly onto the back of the large U–shaped seven seater.

He payed attention to the way she licked her lips, and  humor creeped onto his face while he removed his gloves from his hands. "Only a moment ago. Though, I could hear your captivating singing about this...Slim Shady, all the way from the lobby. So of course I rushed to see that little display."

"Don't be jealous, babe. It's not my fault I have the voice of an angel." Nora snubbed pointedly to cover her joy at the fact she'd gotten a three thousand year old vampire to actually mention Marshall fucking Mathers. It was so silly that a lop–sided grin crossed her lips, her chest jumping with laughter. She trailed away from him, back where she had come from and flopped into the soft covers of the bed.

Spreading her body out she shivered when he silkily traced his fingertips over the skin of her arm, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

He had followed her like a lost little puppy, eyes dark as he worshipped them upon her. "The astounding beauty of an angel? I couldn't agree more. The heavenly voice of one? Now that's debatable, love."

His smile was huge when she spluttered in offense.

"Aro!" He darted away from the side of the bed when she let out an outcry and took an angry swipe at him, his laughter as pleasant as a melody, and for protection he moved away from her to sit on the couch.

Marcus joined him, narrowly missing clashing with Caius's book as the stereotypically erratic man threw it onto the table, stretching out and groaning as if he were exhausted even though he'd spent the whole day lying on the couch.

She sniffed exaggeratedly, sadly and both he and Marcus smirked at her over their shoulders when she pouted–openly happy that she got her just desserts for earlier.

Sticking her tongue out at them, she picked up her new book she'd been reading: A cringy teen romance called Eventide about an uptight werewolf named Ethan and some annoying human girl named Blair. Nora knew she was weak, to submit to reading one of the cringy teen romances that were now all the rage, but she couldn't help herself.

Especially not when there was an opposing love interest, a vampire called Jaskier who was just as pompous as Ethan. It was all so stupidly wacky and Nora felt for poor little fictional Blair. The girl was trapped between two egotistical 'alpha' males.

'Better two than three.' Nora thought absently, a smile stretching across her cheeks knowing Aro would be stupidly offended about that stray thought...she'd deal with the consequences later and anyway, he deserved it for insulting her beautiful voice.

Flicking through page after page, Nora giggled at the novel's total lack of wit. Who falls so deeply in love with someone after three days, like...seriously? Why were young girls attracted to the trope of men who can't seem to make up their minds about whether they like you or absolutely hate you?

The book was making her question her sanity because she actually found it interesting. There had to be something wrong with her, some chemical imbalance in her brain that was making her enjoy such unimaginative drivel.

Their massive upscale room came with a high tech Tv she would have loved to be using instead of losing her fucking mind over Blair and Ethan's tragic love story.

Her three trouble makers on the couch just meters from her bed, however, were hogging it and like the old men they were, they had chosen to watch the news.

The news.

It was a punishment like she had done to them, she was sure of it and ultimately, she decided she'd pass.

Skimming through another page in her book, snorting when Ethan dramatically revealed his secret to Blair by literally getting naked in the middle of the woods when they were supposed to be at school, turning into a massive wolf, her smile sank from her lips and she noted with shock that something the news anchor had said caught her attention.

A name...a name she had hoped never to hear again.

Pulse quickening, she earmarked the page and placed the book next to her, giving her undivided attention to the Tv. The anchor, a popular woman by the name of Selina Napier who Nora recognized, showcased her porcelain capped teeth in a smile required for her job, fiddling with the papers lay on her desk.

"In other news, the University of Washington has been left heartbroken after the discovery that their star Biochemistry student, Joshua Goodman, was reported missing to the Seattle police department just four days ago, sparking a city wide investigation in the hopes that he will be found and returned home safely. The SPD have revealed there is speculation over the nature of this crime. Is this a random kidnapping? Or does this correlate with the mass murders and abductions that have been plaguing our city these last few months?"

"Fucking hell..." Nora drawled under her breath, her mind racing. Why hadn't she heard about this sooner...mass murders? Kidnappings? W–when the hell had this all been going down?

Slipping off the bed, Nora ambled her tired self closer, morbidly curious to know what had happened to that sick fucking freak. She was aware the kings were watching her, Marcus and Caius in a lazy sort of way, both boredly plastered to the cushions and not really paying the story any mind.

Clearly, the Kardasians had wiped any energy out of them.

She was especially aware of the way Aro was looking at her...he knew who this was after all, she would bet he was thrilled to hear this. Focusing on him in her peripheral vision, the look causing the crease between his neat brows was...strange, to say the least.

He didn't come across to her as nervous or scared, but there was a certain element of suspense surrounding him and reflected in his stiff muscles that made her even more cagey than she had been about the blood on his hands.

She'd think about that later, though. For now, he had her full attention.

Selina became sympathetic in the phony professional way she had to, clasping her tan hands together after brushing a strand of blonde hair behind her ear that had escaped her elegant bun. "Anita and Maverick Goodman, who will shortly give a live statement, have said they have no idea what has provoked someone to do this and to target their son, they only wish for him to be brought home. Here they are now, pleading for the safe return of their only child."

The shot changed, showing a congregation of a mix of regular folk and reporters with their cameramen, various colored umbrellas popped open, flooding the outside of the police department. They were crowding under a closed off, raised podium like animals, yelling and screaming and entirely uncivil.

Nora had to sit down next to Marcus as Josh's parents were shown. His mother had her arm wrapped around Maverick's, her mossy green eyes puffy and an epiphora of tears cascading down her face. She looked numb, even as the tears dripped from her soft jaw, over the cupid's bow of her wide lips...almost as if she wasn't feeling anything.

Josh's father, Maverick, didn't look remotely upset. Not in the conventional grieving way a father should over their missing child. His curved and crooked nose, thin cheekbones and severe, intolerant features were all hidden by the shadow of the umbrella that Anita held, all apart from his piercing eyes that peered into the crowd stoically.

The couple remained still as the people screamed up at them, or more specifically, Maverick.

"Mr Goodman!" A female reporter yelled, her messy dirty blonde bob and choppy bangs blowing in the frigid winds whipping through the deserted streets of Seattle. She was stretching and dirtying her black pantsuit and blazer against the barrier the SPD had placed before the grieving couple, trying to get her microphone as close as possible. "Mr Goodman! Is there anything you would like to say to Joshua's kidnapper, or his possible murderer?"

Maverick twitched, bottling up his feelings defensively and diverting his attention for a short period, the bones in his jaw pushing at his skin. Anita consolingly rubbed his arm, pushing him to carry on.

Clenching his jaw still, Maverick bent so he could talk into the small black microphone on the stand in front of him. "I, uh...w–we..." He was mumbling near senselessly, spacing out, rubbing his hand down his gray stubbled face.

Forebodingly, a smile dazzled his dismal expression and he looked dead at the cameras. A chill shot up Nora's spine when he chuckled cynically, close to the mic so feedback rang into the air through the rain. "I'm sure, all of you here today want to hear me say that I am worried for my son. That I wish whoever has taken him would return him unharmed to us. That if someone has hurt him, there is no measure or end to the violence they would experience by my hand. But, If I were to say such things...they would be a lie."

The crowd murmured in shock and disgust as he continued to smile. Anita, who's angular heart shaped face and long, thin brown hair tickled her neck as the wind blew her ponytail, had been hollow up to this point. Now, she took in a shuddering breath and looked away from all of the reporters and the cameras, pulling her arm from his. She was pained and suffering and as a form of distraction, she pulled her white, long rain coat tighter around her, the umbrella wobbling in the wind.

Aversion was written all over Mavericks face, the vivid azure of his eyes deminashing. His posture was dithered with gloominess and he bent his muscular body, clad in a simple gray suit with a white undershirt, so he could be heard. So all of the proclamations he spouted wouldn't be mistaken.

"If you are listening to this Joshua, somehow, if you are watching...I warned you that this day would come. That I would not be able to protect you forever."

His listless and detached words planted a seed of sick wonderment in the crowd and that same woman who had spoken up before was the only one brave enough to do so now. "What do you mean, Mr Goodman? What has your son done that has caused such an inhumane reaction from you, a man who should be begging and pleading for his safety?"

Nora was rendered speechless. She could see where this was going and she could honestly laugh when she had a sudden rush of mania...of course his parents knew about his little disgusting hobby, that's how he had them covered up. It seemed though, his father had reached the end of the line.

That, however, was not good for her. She had a terrible feeling he was about to do something she really didn't want him to do.

Frantically, Nora sprung up from her seat and staggered, nearly falling into the coffee table placed inconveniently in front of the soot colored couch. The worried frowns on her mates faces went ignored and regaining her footing, she cut her eyes over to them, panicked and wild, in her own world of hysteria.

"The remote! Where is it?! I need to turn it off!"

"Sweetheart, calm yourself–" To the shock of them all, Nora pushed away Caius's hand when they all stood and he reached for her; she stepped back from him, too moved into a frenzy by her panic to notice his hurt expression.

For once, this was about no one else, only her and she could care less right now if someone chose to be hurt by her. This was urgent. Dire. She had to turn the Tv off.

"Where is it...where is it!" She hissed to herself desperately and in a crazed manner, digging her hands into the cushions to rip them off the couch, not registering how loopy she sounded. She couldn't even unplug the Tv, there was no lead–it was attached to the wall and for once, she cursed her mates and their riches.

Bumbling to a stop mid tug, Nora spun around with dread to face the Tv, cushions in her hands and the couch destroyed, her mates watching her cautiously...one of them with knowing sympathy.

Maverick had finally spoken.

His voice caught, like he didn't want to say what he was going to say...but he did, and he consequently broke Nora's heart. Her soul shattered to ruins, her greatest shame presumably to be broadcasted.

"My son...is a troubled man. He has done many troubling things and, as a father, I thought it was my responsibility to bury those things, so my son wouldn't have to face the consequences. But I can't do it anymore. I can't stand here and pretend that I am sad or that I refuse to accept that this has happened to Joshua, because I am not. It is only a result of his own atrocity, a step taken too far. He has evidently messed with the wrong person this time."

Anita used her free arm and tugged on his in a panic, hoping to silence him but he ripped it away from her with far too much force, voice billowing from his chest with power. "No, Anita! I will protect him no longer."

He looked into the camera and Nora almost felt as if he were looking right at her, that he could see through the lens as if it was a window and goosebumps rose on her skin in response to his black ensconced gaze.

"My son..." The sharp notes of his voice wobbled with grief for the memories the word invoked, his Adam's apple bobbing. Something in his eyes changed and he looked up at the sky in acceptance, like a prosecuted man about to face the noose. "My son deserves whatever punishment he is getting and more. I swore never to admit this, but the shame is too great for me to bear it any longer. The man I now consider a stranger, who you are all so eager to find, is an evil monster. A monster who has committed 52 cases of violent sexual assault and rape that the University has helped me cover up, some of which occurred while he was still in high school."

Nora wanted to scream, she wanted to shout and ball and loose her fucking mind so her two unsuspecting mates, whose concern and suspicion seemed to be growing at her reaction to this, couldn't hear what he was saying. Every time she tried to move her muscles, to open her mouth, to make any noise...nothing happened. She was forced, betrayed by her own body to stand and face her demons.

The crowd was so silent you could hear a pin drop. There was no rowdiness or flare of wrath. Not yet.

Even the guttural winds had seemed to vanish at his admittal. Anita opened her mouth in a voiceless scream, utterly distraught and Maverick gripped the podium, gray speckled hair in disarray, vowing to finish what his son had started.

"By my own hand, I have helped him bury these instances but my guilt now knows no bounds. I must atone for what I have helped to grow and I must apologize personally to each victim, each woman I condemned to a life of misery. Hear their names and their ages they had to endure it and know their strength. They will be silenced no longer." He let the crowd digest the magnitude of what he was about to do.

When he was happy he would be listened to, that the victims would be remembered, he began...it was a list so long and so appalling, the once bustling crowd was moved to tears. "To all of you...starting with 15 year old Adrial Kipp...18 year old Olivia Garcia, 21 year old Alexandra Kennedy, 21 year old Kristen Mccarthy, 19 year old Tian shufan, 14 year old Irene Avillah, 16 year old Melah Reeves..."

'No, please God.' Nora thought desperately, but she knew what was bound to happen as he outed each and every girl his son had drugged and defiled, coming closer and closer to the end the more she watched in fear, still unable to bring herself to move or pull herself together.

Not even to force her disgusted mates who watched with the same amount of intent as she did to look away from the screen, two of whom had no idea what was about to happen.

Maverick pressed on, determinedly naming each unlucky woman whose misfortunes were scorched into his memory. "...20 year old Cheyanne Wyatt, 22 year old Doniece Copeland, 15 year old Adalynn Shaw, 17 year old Jade Watts, 19 year old Sato Michiko, 16 year old Jolene Burns, 21 year old Ruth Reyes, 20 year old Nicole Saunders, 17 year old Claudette Pierce, 22 year old Elenora Swan..."

There it was.

Nora stood, pin straight. Her steel eyes lost their luster and focussed roundly on the screen.

Shattered. She was shattered inside. The disgrace, the guilt, the pain, the heartache...it all washed over her like a sturdy, threatening wave and it was all she could do not to give in and collapse from its devastating weight that aimed to bring her to her knees.

The air felt like it had dropped to an icy temperature and Nora balked when she heard an odd grating screech followed by a sharp gasp.

From the corner of her eye she saw Caius ball his fists, his nostrils flaring, eyes levelled with a hateful guarantee to reach through the screen and eradicate anything, to conquer the disgust and wrath that festered to the surface of his being.

Marcus stood just as rigidly, like her he was rooted in place and his face, normally so sweet and boyishly youthful...was consumed by a dark expression, an expression that sought death and blood. It was less intense than Caius's, but no less daunting.

On both of them disbelief was clear, but they didn't move, they didn't react like she thought they would.

Yet.

She felt the heaviness of someone's eyes on her but she couldn't look properly, not even if she wanted to.

After what felt like hours, of her staring at the Tv, of her mates staring at anything in indignance and denial, at Maverick's voice ploughing on, it finally finished and Maverick took in the judgment, the disgust and the horror of the crowd with alarm.

No longer did he stand proud. He gulped and braced his hands around the sharp corners of the podium, his face just barely visible, sloped down in shame and dishonor.

It was the bearing of a man who was finished. With this world, with this life his son had left for him to piece back together–a life where the Goodman name would be tarnished forever.

Tears trickled from his barely visible face, onto the wood below him and his throat sounded dry when he croaked his parting lines of woe, hoarsened by the truth of his corruption. "To all of these women, there are not enough words to express my regret or my sorrow that I didn't stop him, not words that are most likely worth any value to you. All that I can say in my defense is that I was a fool, to be blinded and manipulated by such a beast, to think that thing was still my son. I...I'm so sorry."

With that he briskly jerked to the side, pulling a stunned Anita with him down the black steps, and made his escape through the collection of police officers as the crowd burst into an uproar of screams of righteous anger.

It cut back to the studio, a speechless Selina trying to regain control of the situation, but Nora wasn't focusing on any of that. Not anymore.

She wasn't focusing on anything except the numbness growing and coiling through her insides like a cancerous tumor, a creature of gloom. She heard nothing, she felt nothing, she didn't even think. She took nothing in, and she let nothing show on the outside.

Caius had subsequently unfrozen by the time her eyes unstably drifted to look at him. His mouth was open and was moving in a snappy, rapid way that indicated he was all but screaming, but Nora heard nothing.

Not the lumberous thuds of his shoes on the cream carpet as he stormed about the room, destroying anything in his path; shrapnel from broken objects flying around her. Not the razor sharp edge of resentment in his voice, undoubtedly screaming promises of annihilation, or the wild flailing of his arms as that beast inside him tore free from his cage, longing for her perpetrators reckoning.

She didn't feel Marcus's tentative touch, whose eyes were black and overflowing with animosity. She didn't register it when he sat her down on the couch, crouched in front of her and speaking in low tones.

She didn't register the hardly obscured antipathy in his loving attentions, or the way he was touching her more sensitively than he ever had, like he feared she would break beyond repair.

She didn't register Aro trying to control his distraught brother, the eerily calm man stumbling back when Caius smashed his fist through the table, splinters of wood littered everywhere.

The destruction, the shouting, the soothing tones of Marcus, the pleading of Aro, the sound of her nails scratching and destroying the skin of her arms and Marcus seeing through his anger to care for her while the others were occupied, to stop her with a firm hand...it was not registered.

Her world had gone dark, her conscious self pushed into the back of her mind to observe the hectic events like she was watching a movie through a screen.

Nora let her body flop, not recognizing who or where she was. She closed her eyes and gave in to the call of peace and just let that dark encompass her, the embrace relaxing as her old friend looked out for her once more.

At least in the chasm of dark unconsciousness, she didn't have to face her monsters. She only wondered how long that would last.