torture (noun): the action or practice of inflicting severe pain on someone as a punishment or to force them to do or say something, or for the pleasure of the person inflicting the pain
Noelle's POV
Monday mornings. The day that is resented by every human being on planet earth. The day that angry workers bustle through the city with grumpy expressions and frumpy attire; coffees in one hand and briefcases in the other. The morning that starts each train-wreck of a week and the day that I used to look forward to.
Strangely, I always loved the start of the week. I liked to give myself a fresh beginning and have all my assignments done with ease and handed over onto Professor Donovan's desk bright and early before class. While other students came in with that hungover hunch and baggy eyes, I was refreshed and adorned in ironed clothes that I'd picked out the night before.
That was, until now.
Not only has my schedule been completely tampered with and put in the hands of Harry himself, but I don't even know what I'm doing next. The cloudy thoughts scatter in my brain, causing my slight OCD to get the better of me.
My legs swing back and forth nervously as I sit in the hospital ward on floor two, awaiting my name to be called by Nurse Linda for my further examination. Harry told me all about the drug I was suffocated with and yet I still can't remember how to pronounce the never-ending word.
It seems like every time I'd manage to get a syllable right, Harry would shake his head and repeat the word - messing up himself by saying it too many times. That was how most of last night was spent after my persistent consisting that Justin Bieber, in fact, used to be a main part of my play-list.
"Your jittering is making me antsy,'' Harry states in the some-what silent air. Chairs scatter the room but seeing as though most workers are out on lunch break, the white-walled room remains untouched.
"Sorry,'' I reply, shoving my hands under my thighs. "I'm just a bit nervous, is all."
"There's nothing to be worried about, Noelle. You've been put through worse than a few blood tests,'' he shrugs, shifting his ankle up onto his opposite knee. Although his point proves overly correct, the thought of a needle piercing my skin evaporates that false hope.
"I know." I sigh, mentally agreeing but it not in the least calming my nerves. My knees bounce continuously and the sound of my sneakers tapping against the waxed floor works as a background noise.
I notice the smooth coat coating the tiles, but beneath the shining surface lies scratches and ran-over rust stains, most likely being old blood stains that weren't removable. My lips frown at the sight; I don't handle blood very well and if it weren't for my zoned-out mind, I would've most likely passed out while on my trek in the forest.
"What are those?" Harry voices, sitting up in his chair and looking to the ground where my vision was aimed. He seems just as interested as his eyebrows touch in confusion and his round lips purse tightly shut.
"Probably blood,'' I answer, moving my feet to the side to examine the floor.
''No, not those. I know what that is. I was talking about your shoes. If you can even call them that,'' Harry cringes, eyeing my tattered sneakers. "Why do you still wear those? They look like they've been through both World Wars and Armageddon."
"I like my shoes,'' my nose crinkles. "They're comfortable and my mother bought them for me."
"How old is your mum?" He snorts, laughing and resting back in his chair. My eyes squint at his, seeing the emerald green dance in amusement while I just slump back in my chair and shake my head. "What?" Harry muses.
"Nothing, I just don't appreciate you picking on my shoes." I shrug, casually trying to give off the impression that I'm affected by his words. When really, I just like watching him baffled. That small line between his brows shows and he squints lightly.
"I wouldn't have to rag on them if you didn't wear them,'' he reflects. "I'm going to buy you new shoes."
"I don't want new shoes."
"I don't care."
"You should."
"And why is that?" He raises a brow, tilting his head to the side as it rests on his large palm. The hospital-like lights reflect off his tan skin and cast shadows under his nose and lips. I stare at them a moment too long, forgetting my point until I can regain composure.
"Because it would be a waste of money." I state proudly, lifting my chin to the air as I look around the room. My ass is starting to hurt in this chair and unlike Harry's home furniture, they don't smell pleasant. "I wouldn't wear them."
"I could always tie you to my bed and force them on you,'' Harry smirks, teeth showing faintly as he glares at the side of my bewildered face. Even when not seeing him straight-forward, I can tell his dimples are peaking.
My eyes remain wide as I slowly turn my head, a strange expression displayed on my face as I most likely look constipated or sick. "You really shouldn't say things like that,'' I warn, his eyes darkening as he comes to the same conclusion as I.
The next few minutes are filled with comfortable silence, the distraction Harry was keeping up now faded and my nerves bubbling over the seems even more. I know it is only moments away now and the anticipation for whatever is to happen has me biting my nails and rocking slightly.
"Hey,'' Harry brings me out of my thoughts, his right hand landing on my knee to stop its bopping. The glint in his eyes calms me slightly, chin leniently ducked to measure up to my eyes. "It's fine, trust me. I won't let her stab you too much."
My eye rolls immediately, lips being cut off from speaking with the sound of the hallway door opening.
"Noelle, I can see you now." Nurse Linda kindly says, shifting her gaze between me and Harry and then his hand that sits on me knee absentmindedly. As soon as he realizes her obvious confusion, Harry removes his hand and shifts uncomfortably.
"Okay,'' I speak up, grabbing the arm rests on the stiff chair to assist myself to my feet. The uncertainty in her chocolate eyes is now non-present, but instead light crinkles form on her middle-aged skin.
"Will you be coming in alone?" Linda whispers into my ear as I pass her. My confused vision trails back to where I was previously sitting, seeing an awkward standing Harry, unsure to stay or follow me.
His hands tuck into the pockets of his uniform, one hand shifting to scratch his chin and the light stubble that litters the sharp features of his jawline. An adamant smile crosses his lips and I look back to the nurse, ''Yes, please."
The last thing I want is for him to see me cry. That is if I can last that long before my anxiety gets the better of me.
"Harry,'' Linda calls, his eyes diverting to hers immediately. "We should be finished with the tests sometime later in the afternoon. I'll call you when you can come pick her up."
"Yeah, okay. I'll.. see you then, then." He nods, walking out the most awkward I've ever seen him. My eyes divert back to Nurse Linda now as we become the only people in the ward, her smile returning kindly as she signals her hand to the door.
"Right this way, Noelle."
-
After running multiple tests on my blood and sampling a piece of my hair, Nurse Linda walks to her corner and makes several notes onto her clipboard. The slick cursive writing trails a few lines long, leaving me to sit nervously in anticipation to whether everything is all right or not.
"Noelle?" She calls, my head perking up. ''Were you, by any means, a swimmer or runner?"
"I used to swim for my high school team but I haven't done it in a while,'' I state, wondering how she knew. "What makes you ask that question?"
"Your lungs. They are very strong. That is what leads me to believe your surprising tolerance to the drug. Seeing as though I just put some into your system and you've yet to notice, I'd say that your tolerance level to the chemical is outstanding."
"Wait, what?" I gulp, her words not processing in my brain. "You just drugged me? Without asking?"
"Yes,'' she chuckles. "Yes, I did. And you haven't even passed out or noticed the change in your pulse. Does your heart feel like it is beating harder or does your brain feel like it is jittering around in your skull?"
"Well, now that you mention it,'' I sarcastically remark, rolling my eyes irritatingly at the nurse. "No, I don't feel any different than when I came in twenty minutes ago."
"Remarkable,'' Linda shakes her head. "Just in case you are lagging, I don't suggest you drive for a few hours or until you pee."
"Until I pee?" I laugh. "Thoroughly noted."
Nurse Linda fixes a few more stacks of paper before kicking the drawer shut and pulling the IV out of my arm. I wince at the feeling and she mouths a small 'Sorry, darling.' in the process. The small bandage she uses to cover it up has a Mickey Mouse head on it and I smile childishly at it for a moment before looking back up.
The chair disregarded to the corner of the room is then rolled over to my bedside and sat upon by the nurse herself, glasses being pulled down onto the bridge of her small nose. "Has Harry explained any of the medical terms to you?"
"Faintly, yeah,'' I nod, caressing my thighs awkwardly. My legs are swung back over the edge of the hospital bed, dangling freely in the small silence looming around us. "I don't think he even knew what he was talking about when he was trying to describe it to me."
A laugh falls from her thin lips, ''Officer Styles loves to pretend he knows what he is doing all of the time. The only problem with that is, he's usually correct."
"Lucky bastard,'' I say under my breath, feeling jealous that yet another person has been around Harry enough to learn a lot about him. "What more is there really to learn, now?"
"Until I get the results back on the tests we did today, there isn't anything new to tell you about. Just stay hydrated and remember to not drive until this time tomorrow. I don't want you crashing and losing more blood." She informs me, reaching into the little pocket on her coat. "Lollipop?"
Harry's POV
"We should head out for drinks tonight,'' Klara leans onto the counter, directing her eyes back and forth from me to Royce; mostly me. He shrugs and continues to type on his portable keyboard while I am left to shift awkwardly and shake my head. "Why not?"
"We should be working on the case and trying to get a lead, not getting drunk on a Monday." I state, obviously annoyed at her sudden lack of interest and selfish desires. "And besides, the press conference is coming up soon and we need to be on our toes for any signs that the killer will be there watching."
"And what if he was?" Klara outwardly asks, ''It isn't like we would know it was him or some shit. He is a complete ghost in our system and as of now, we have no leads to anyone to even watch for this guy. This case is pointless,'' she rolls her eyes, an exhausted sigh falling from her lips.
My instincts tell me to agree with the officer on this one and to go hide in a corner until this all blows over, but truth be told, there won't be an end to this until we cause it. It has gone on for far too long and though it may be discouraging, we can't just quit.
"It may be pointless but I'm sick of this bastard walking in my city,'' I grit. "I will end this and I won't give up until I see that this dick is locked away in jail until he dies. Understand me? Now get to work. There is no time to be slacking off when there are clues to be found."
With the roll of her eyes, once again, Klara irritatingly pushes herself off the counter and stalks out of the room; most likely going to go hide out in the break room while me and Royce search the records of teachers from Noelle's school.
"None have permanent records of any sort,'' Royce shakes his head. "And I've checked everyone from the Art teachers to the Science professors to even the fucking janitors that clean the hallways. Nothing. Not one single trace of a parking ticket or a summons for alcohol abuse."
"Look harder, there has to be something,'' I demand, nudging his shoulder and him glaring back up at me afterward. "All of Noelle's professors have been cleared and questioned, but that doesn't mean they haven't seen anything. There has to be at least one person that saw this guy."
"That's a long shot judging by his neatness,'' Royce mutters, adjusting his thick rimmed glasses. "Whoever this man be, he was clean and professional. He knew what he was doing and did it quick because not only did he disarm the security cameras in every possible direction from the school, but he disabled them back on not even ten minutes later. This guy,'' he pauses, ''Is a natural cold-blooded killer."
"Hey,'' I grab his attention, ''Don't give up. It is enough that Klara is being an arse, but not you. Now pull up every teacher and check their files for anyone who is smart enough to disable a security camera. We could be looking at an ex-military Sargent gone wild."
Royce gives one shake of his head and picks up his laptop, huddling back over into his corner to do what he does best. The corners of my mouth force themselves down as I try to remain positive. We just have to wait until this press conference is over and then I'll be able to breathe again.
No matter how hard I try to shake the feeling, I know something is going to go wrong. And by the looks of his previous killings, it won't be pretty. I know what I have to do, though, to prepare myself for this - and even to prepare Noelle - and that is to make her aware of the severity of this case.
It's time to show her the previous crime scene photos.
-
I had Noelle waiting in the corner of my office while I did some casework on my laptop. It seemed to daze her that I hadn't spoken about her appointment with Nurse Linda, but she didn't question it further as she noticed the serious look on my face.
As the hours passed and she became more antsy, I decided it was time. With the department now lacking life forms in the hall, it was best to show her now while she couldn't be overwhelmed with anxiety; because if there is one thing I've learned about Noelle, is that she gets anxious easy. And what I am about to show her could change her whole view on this case and the conference coming up.
"Noelle,'' I speak up while she peaks in her seat. The sudden excitement of her name being called vanishes as she examines my face, a distraught look most likely telling her how I'm feeling.
"Yeah?" She stands up, walking to my desk and standing in front of it with crossed arms. The line between her brows creases and leaves her pink lips pursed tightly, ''What's wrong?"
"I need to show you something,'' I whisper, not exactly knowing why. Her shoulders tense just like mine and without a word through her parted lips, she solemnly nods. I sigh, reaching my hand into my desk drawer and pulling out the flash-drive I haven't been able to open since before meeting her.
"Come,'' I instruct. "We're going to the green screen room."
Silence overtakes us the whole way down the hall and to the familiar door we once entered with Estelle when showing the green screen for the first time. It might not be the most clever idea to show Noelle one of the most scaring things on such a large surface, but either way, it will terrify her.
I reach for the knob and take in another breath of air; the lack of oxygen that will en-capture our lungs is soon surpassing around us as the door glides shut quietly.
"Harry, what is this about?" Noelle asks, crossing her arms while I slide the cap off the hard-drive. I blow on the little piece of plastic and metal before swiping dust off the old monitor and turning it on. The dim light in the room causes me to squint my eyes and focus intently on the old machine. "Harry, please answer me." Noelle pushes once again, walking closer to the screen and standing in front of the projector.
"You know how you were in the hospital for a few days before I got to questioning you?" I avoid her question and throw one back, her eyes mystifying before fluttering back into her skull.
"Of coarse I remember. And if I can recall correctly, the way you stormed into my room wasn't too professional." Her hour-glass figure shows fiercely as she grasps her hands on her hips.
"What can I say? I was so delighted to see your face that I just couldn't help myself,'' I sarcastically comment, earning and nudge to the shoulder and a small smile. "Besides that, remember when you finally agreed to speak with me?"
"Yeah?"
"That was the most relieved I'd felt in three days because during the time that you weren't conscience enough to speak to me, I was forced to look at these photos and trek through that thick forest for any sign of civilization that you could've stumbled from." I honestly answer.
The look on her face falls a bit and the projector turns on, the image hitting her stomach as she still stands blocking it from the green screen. Slowly, her body turns and steps to the side, the horrifying image making her step back a few steps and bite her lip.
There on the screen, lies the body of the very first victim to the killer. Although her hair remains long and blonde against the cement bridge pillar, her pale skin-tone and purple lips give off a different vibe. What really hits you, though, is the large number '1' carved onto the forehead of the victim.
Blood smothers her limbs and rope burns restrict lines onto her wrists and ankles; the tattered, flower-printed dress she wore full of blood and dirt stains. All along the muscles on her lean legs and petite arms are carvings of random lines; this victims theme being slice marks.
As I glance over to Noelle's face, every emotion swirls in her eyes, lips trembling and arms anxiously shifting on her chest. Even with every fear and every dauntless memory that could be filing into her thoughts, she doesn't turn away from the screen.
Instead, she stares harder. More intently.
My finger dares to push the skip button on the monitor, revealing victim number two. This time, the theme of her torture is burns. Gasoline drenches her pajama pants and tank top, hair disintegrated dryly onto the tray of burnt food in her own apartment's stove.
If being burned to death wasn't enough, her killer wanted to seal the deal by breaking her bones and stuffing her into a stove to cook in 450 degree heat. The redness of her skin - or what is left of it - and the brown scorch marks litter her face and dried out eyes; tongue disintegrated in her mouth as we had had to take off the rag choking her.
Once again, it is time to flick to victim three when Noelle turns around and stops my hand. "Please, don't,'' she chokes out, voice trembling with fear and sadness just like I'd expected. My head nods, instantly agreeing that seeing the first two were enough.
I quickly pull the hard-drive from the machine and switch the light on, turning off the monitor and walking to Noelle as she stands by the door with an emotional look concurring her face. Part of me waits for the tears I know she wants to release, but instead, her stare is blank and deadly.
I grab her wrist and motion her out of the room, closing the door behind me. "Lets go home, yeah?" I quietly whisper and a hasty nod is given in return. I comply and rush to get the hard-drive back to my officer drawer, locking the door shut and approaching Noelle back at the exit.
We stay quiet until the car ride, when ten minutes in, she turns to me and says, "How could someone do that to another human being? Does he not have any sympathy for people?"
"He's a killer, Noelle. They are born with a sick mind. They have no tact for suffering, instead, they feed off of power and watching their victims struggle. It's a form of resentment and justification, saying that they are their own boss and can do whatever the hell they want even if society doesn't allow it. They strive for control."
"But why? These girls did nothing wrong and were killed in such gruesome ways. It's not fair!" She outbursts, causing me to look over at her sadly while she covers her face with her small hands. Her chest doesn't rise or fall, but stays motionless as if she is trying to hold back whatever it is she is feeling.
"Life isn't fair, El.'' I speak, turning down a road and appearing closer to my apartment. "I wanted you to know just how deep you'll get yourself by doing this press conference. Don't feel like you have to still do it. I didn't mean to scare you out of it, but just think about it."
"Well it did,'' she speaks matter-of-factly.
"I'm sorry for that."
"This isn't okay,'' her lips speak after a few moments, being bitten shortly after by her pearly teeth.
"I know."
"We need to stop this man."
"I know,'' I say again, glancing in the rear-view mirror. "We will."
"What if we can't, though, and he continues to do this to girls?! What if he comes after me next?! I was lucky once, but twice? I don't think so. He is going to come back for me, I know it, and I am going to end up just like those other girls!"
Noelle shakes her head and bites her thumbnail, freaking out in my passenger side seat as I am restricted to sit in front of the wheel and drive home. There is one thing I can do, and that is tell Noelle that I will keep her safe.
"I'd never let that happen."
Hello my lovelies! Thank you for all the sweet commenting on the last chapter, hopefully we can keep up the great flow and get some comments on this chapter as-well! How do you feel about the victims? I'll update when this chapter reaches 40 votes and 40 comments, I love you!
- Dani xx