Chapter Text
The night is silent and as stiff as a corpse, she would know. The sound of ragged breathing in an isolated cabin being the only thing to break the eerie calm. Occasionally, a chuckle can be heard. It is slightly high-pitched, female, sinister, deranged, and delighted.
A snap, but not that of a branch, instead, that of a bone, and when listening very closely to that of sanity as well. Then a scream is heard followed by cooing and shushing, even though no one is around to hear.
The cabin is fifteen miles north from even the most isolated of hiking trails with regular civilization ten miles further south. Looking towards the west, north, and east all provide miles upon miles of the forest only inhabited by wildlife. Wildlife that knows to avoid this unmarked spot on the map, for the screams that it produces scares even the most deadly of predators away.
It truly was a lucky find, this cabin. She thought she would have to build her own. Moving to Forks while a strategically planned escape also turned out to be significantly inconvenient. Her estranged father, the fucking chief of police, to whom she has no interest nor plans of reaching out to does not carry the same frame of mind. Her emancipation and complete ability to provide for herself has simply left him in the same town as the daughter he could have had. Fighting off the man’s attempts at bonding has been an unwanted annoyance.
Additionally, living in a place this small has forced her to schedule out times to drive to distant neighboring cities for her targets. Luckily, arriving at the beginning of summer break allowed her the time to devise her plans to evade police suspicion for at least the year that she will have to stay in this godforsaken town.
Another snap, a scream, this time followed by a laugh and finally words that sound as if they were being spoken to a toddler that scraped their knee on the playground.
“Oh darling, I bet that hurt.” Her tone was sweet enough that had you not been aware of the atrocities the young woman inflicted upon the man before her you would think she genuinely cared.
Painful breathing, the wheezing reminiscent of a death rattle, was the only sound the man could produce, as the broken jaw prevented him from properly forming any words.
Isabella tutted as she dropped the mangled hand she held in her own, all the fingers snapped one by one like baby carrots. Suddenly, a thought struck her, reminiscent of the way this man’s hand struck his wife and children.
“Gosh, I forgot to put any music on! We can’t have a party without music now can we Oliver?” The young woman rose gracefully from her squatted position in front of him. Completely unbothered by her recent actions, not a slicked-back strand of hair out of place.
She left him in front of the couch across the room knowing she needn't worry about a possible escape, the deep gashes she sliced into both of his Achilles' tendons assured her of that. Though many would be worried about the blood that surely spread across the gorgeous wood floors, Isabella had already prepared as every available surface was covered in plastic tarps, including the ceiling. The space is reminiscent of a painter’s workspace which she feels fits with her brand since she plans on painting the walls a lovely shade of red.
“You’re an older man aren’t you Oliver? I’m sure you enjoy popular music from the 80s don’t you?” She turned around from facing the bookshelf filled with vinyl, cassette tapes, and CDs of different artists to stare at the man with a bright, questioning smile. When all she got was a grimace and a whimper the smile suddenly disappeared and a blank look fell across her face.
“I asked you a question Oliver and I expect an answer. A nod will suffice given the unfortunate state of your jaw.”
It took a few seconds, but a nod was given as an answer. It obviously caused the man pain. Isabella was sure his head was absolutely throbbing along with the rest of his body, but she simply did not care.
Instead, that smile once again brightened her features and she turned back to browsing the shelves while resuming her train of thought as if it had never ended.
“Wonderful, I am personally a big fan of Prince, especially his second album.” She pulls the Prince cassette off the shelf while humming “I Would Die 4 U” quietly to herself.
The tone she uses, while she speaks, is disconcertingly cheerful.
“Released in October of 1979 and produced by Warner Brothers I simply believe this album to truly be a masterpiece,” she spoke as she calmly walked a few paces to the left of the bookshelf where a small table housed a well used, but fully functioning stereo.
As she took the cassette from its case and placed it on the deck she continued her monologue, “I mean the man was only around twenty years old and he single-handedly wrote, arranged, composed, and produced an album that would later be certified platinum, I simply find it incredible.” At this point, Isabella was practically shouting as she disappeared through the doorway diagonal from the man on the opposite side of the room, “Did you know he taught himself how to play all of these instruments?”
Unknown to him she was looting the hall closet for the raincoat she had stashed in there weeks prior. While she did enjoy the artful splatter that was the result of blunt force trauma she, regretfully, has not had time to change out of her three-piece Tom Ford and has no desire to visit the town dry cleaner. The prices there are fucking criminal.
She came back into the room with the raincoat on and ignored the confusion and fear the trembling man exhibited as he began to realize their time together was reaching its climax. “I Wanna be Your Lover” was playing loudly enough over the speakers that Oliver could hardly hear what she was saying, he simply knew if he had any chance of escape he better do it now.
“See this song is simply masterful and catchy, I often find myself humming along as I garden or clean around my estate. However, I believe the true masterpiece of this album is “I Feel For You.” Although it’s not very underrated it does not get the attention it deserves,” by now, Isabella had walked past the music shelf and over to the far left side of the room where an ax was resting against the unlit fireplace.
Slowly, she picked it up and strolled back over to the man who was valiantly attempting to drag himself across the floor, however, his useless legs, mangled hands, broken ribs, shattered collarbones, and broken jaw, made the journey excruciating and useless for he was too weak. That’s without factoring in the blood he is still slowly losing and leaving trailed behind him like a wounded slug.
“You have made a decent effort in putting up a fight. I’ll have to hide these scratches on my forearms for a while, but I can always use the excuse of weeding around the thorny bushes I have in my garden. No one will find you, and your family will be released from the prison that came from living in a house with you. Abuse is no laughing matter Oliver, which I regretfully will not be able to teach your buddies from that bar anytime soon as it would be too suspicious.”
The man pitifully wiggled his useless body trying to get further away and as a final parting gift, and source of amusement, Isabella violently kicked him in his already broken ribs, knowing by the wheeze he involuntarily produced she had punctured a lung.
“Shame. I was going to ax you in the skull, but perhaps choking on your own blood will be more entertaining.” A tiny hint of excitement could be heard weaved into her words.
“At least I won't have to wash any blood off my face this time. I never miss anything, but it’s a hassle I have no patience for tonight. You are quite a heavy man Oliver and dragging your unconscious body across this fucking floor is a week’s worth of my workout routines.”
Isabella grabbed the small armchair placed against the wall and pulled it up next to Oliver’s body. He no longer had any fight left in him and simply wheezed and choked as blood spilled inside and outside of his body. She picked up the glass she had placed on the table hours prior while waiting for the shitstain to wake up, poured a double of expensive scotch, sat back, and watched for who knows how long as the light slowly left the man’s eyes.
Unbeknownst to her, as Isabella Swan was dividing up the pieces of her latest victim, four other women, one simply miles away, and the other three in a completely different state were all finishing a feeding as an unexplainable sense of satisfaction and renewed bloodlust washed over them all.
Five predators in the wild destined for each other had just completed a hunt and were ready for another.