A/N: Many thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed!

Thanks to Ella and kitchmill, for helping me with this story and being generally awesome. :)

Any mistakes you see are my own.

Warning: There is a scene of violence in this chapter.

SM owns everything Twilight.

4-

"You're not supposed to be here!" he screams, his voice cracking, but no less dangerous sounding. "This is my house! Mine! I will kill you." He starts to laugh maniacally, the sound chilling and inhuman.

A scream leaves my lips just before the man reaches down, grabbing my throat and picking me up off of the floor. I struggle to breathe and claw at the hands holding me. My defense angers him and he slams me against the wall, my skull knocking against the plaster. For a moment, my vision blackens but I regain my senses and start kicking anywhere I can reach. Once, I actually get a good kick in and hit him right where it hurts the most.

Right where my mother would call "his special place".

This time, I start clawing at his face, my blunt nails doing little damage. With his free hand, the attacker grabs my arm and twists, bringing up to his mouth and taking a huge chunk of skin from my forearm. Even with the tight grip he has on my throat, I manage to cry out in pain and yank my arm away.

My hands return to his face, scratching at his eyes. I feel my fingers make contact, and even though I'm thoroughly disgusted, I keep pressing forward, hoping to get him to release his hold on me.

The man howls in pain and slams me against the wall again, dislodging my fingers from his eyes. I grunt as the outer edge of my vision blackens. I can feel the fight leaving me and a sense of dread and hopelessness fill me. There's no way I can fight him. He's too strong and I'm too weak, especially with a lack of oxygen and my head pounding in sync with my racing heart.

Before I can lose consciousness, I notice something rise above my attacker's head. It's long and shiny and just before it comes down on his head, I realize it's a wrench.

Blood instantly covers his face and the wild man releases his grip on my throat. I fall heavily onto the floor, coughing and gasping while trying to replenish my lungs with much needed oxygen. Alice slides up next to me and tries to pull me out of the way of Jasper and the "ghost" fighting, her eyes glassy and fearful.

Alice manages to pull me into the doorway of my studio and we watch helplessly as Jasper throws punches left and right, dodging the attacker easily. However, he's not so lucky all of the time. The attacker grabs Jasper's hand as he moves to punch him once more and bends his arm back, where a loud crack can be heard. Jasper falls to his knees and the attacker delivers a punch to his face, the force of it snapping his head back so far I'm surprised it didn't come off.

"Jasper!" Alice screeches.

Alice's voice causes the man to turn his attention to us, and he charges forward, growling, his hands formed into claws. Alice gasps and I move my arm in front of her, wanting to shield her from this crazy person. In the background, I can hear the sound of someone shouting and banging from somewhere in the house, but I'm too focused on the man coming our way to determine who's making such noise.

Fortunately, he never approaches us. Jasper gathers his bearings and picks up the wrench, repeatedly hitting the man on the back of the head, never letting up on his assault. The wild man falls onto his knees, blood and chunks of flesh covering his skin and hair. He makes an indistinguishable sound of pain and falls face first onto the floor.

Our heavy breathing and the pounding on the wall coming from somewhere in the house are the only sounds that can be heard.

"Is he dead?" Alice asks. Her voice is barely loud enough to hear, but we all do.

Jasper creeps forward slowly, reaching for the man's pulse point and resting his fingers there for a moment.

"It's faint, but it's there."

"How are you?"

"I'm fine," he says gruffly. I notice his arm is bent at a weird angle and I immediately know it's broken. "I think he may have broken my nose and arm, though."

Alice gasps, but Jasper doesn't let her say more. "Come on, we need to find Edward and call the police before he wakes up again."

"Where is Edward? How can we find him?" Alice questions, pulling me up and keeping me by her side as she moves toward Jasper.

"He's in the walls, I think. Can't you hear him yelling and banging?"

Alice pauses, listening. When she hears the noise, her eyes light up. "Thank goodness he's safe! Let's get him out!"

She dashes into the bedroom, picking up a hammer and going into the closet.

"Edward, can you hear me?"

"Yes!" His voice his muffled, but he can be heard. "Get me out of here!"

"Step back! I'm going to tear down the wall."

Alice poises her hammer in the air and starts to swing it down, but Jasper catches her wrist.

"Why don't I do this, huh?"

"Your arm is broken."

"I can probably still do it better than you. Please, let me. I don't want you to hit him."

She relents, stepping back, and Jasper feels along the wall, banging it with his good fist a couple of times. At one point on the wall, the result of hitting the wall is hollow. He looks satisfied by this and instructs Edward to stand back for a moment. When Edward gives him the all clear, Jasper swings the hammer at the section of hollow wall and instantly, a panel falls to the ground.

To my relief, Edward pops out a second later, collapsing into Jasper. Jasper cries out and Edward apologizes at once, noticing his broken arm. Jasper waves him off, breathing heavily through his mouth. As Edward steps further into the room, I see a blooming bruise on his temple along with a trail of blood down his cheek.

Edward's eyes meet mine as soon as he's out and he dashes toward me, grabbing my shoulders, his eyes darting all over my face and body. His eyes linger on my throat, no doubt seeing the bruises, and travel down to my bloody arm, where he hisses with sympathy.

"Are you okay?"

"I should be asking you that. How are you?" he questions.

"I'm okay. My head and arm hurts."

"Come on," Jasper says from behind us. "We need to call the police and get checked out."

8*8*8*8

Shortly after our phone call, the police are swarming my house, their red and blue lights lightening up the street. A few neighbors have come out of their houses, watching the scene unfolding. When our attacker is wheeled out there are more than a few audible gasps and chatter filling the air.

Edward has been released by an ambulance worker, saying he only has a bump on the head, but should go to the hospital, just in case. For Jasper, his arm and nose are definitely broken and he is escorted to hospital with Alice for the bones to be reset. A medic advises me to go to the hospital myself, to get my head checked and my arm stitched up, but I don't want to leave yet. I have to hear what the police say. I have to see what they find. Edward stands by me, his arm around my waist as we wait for someone to come talk to me.

The police traipse in and out of my house, talking among themselves and taking notes. A few of them shake their heads as they come out with bagged evidence. Each new item I see in their hands makes my stomach roll, and I swallow back the nausea that threatens to erupt.

"Miss Swan?" An officer comes up to me, looking at me with sympathy. "I would like go over a few things with you, if I may."

"Sure."

"When did you notice something was strange about your house?"

For ten minutes I answer his questions and he writes everything down, nodding and asking additional questions.

"Thank you," he says when he's done, putting his notepad in his jacket pocket.

"How long has he been there?" I ask, even though I already know the answer.

"You sure you want to hear this?"

No. "Yes."

"We were able to make a positive identification of the man living in your house. He is James Monroe, the former owner. It seems Monroe had been living in the attic since the murders of his wife and child. From what we can see so far, he'd been using the space between the walls to move about. We believe he isn't of sound mind, due to what we've found; when we searched through the attic, we found a few of his possessions and discarded food sources in the attic area, as well pages upon pages of ramblings.

"From what it looks like, after he killed his family, he locked himself in the attic, hiding from the police; we believe he hid in the walls to escape. Many police officers searched for him, but after a month, we figured he either killed himself and wild animals took his carcass away or he fled the country. After the investigation, the house was sold back to the bank and someone came in to repaint and clean, effectively trapping him in the attic. However, he obviously had another mode of getting in and out."

My nausea comes back with a vengeance and my mouth waters. I can't believe someone was living in my house without my knowledge. I turn away from Edward, trying desperately not to throw up. I'm unsuccessful and heave, tears burning my eyes.

Edward keeps one hand on me, rubbing my back and whispering words of comfort in my ear. They do little to help, however. My mind goes back to everything I experienced when living in that house—the many times I felt someone's eyes on me, the feeling of someone touching my hair, the movement of my possessions and the scratching in the walls. How could I have not known someone was living in my house?

Once the sickness passes, I look back at the officer, who gives me a sad smile.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. I would be doing the same thing."

"What will happen to him?"

"He's under arrest, but he'll be taken to the hospital and monitored twenty-four seven. He's not going to get away."

I nod and Edward thanks him, folding me in his arms. "Let's get you out of here."

"Where will I go?" My voice breaks, but I don't care.

"You'll go with me," Edward tells me resolutely. "Come on."

Edward starts to lead me away, but my legs shake and my knees buckle. Edward catches me before I fall, sweeping me into his arms and carrying me away from my home … my dream home that's no longer picturesque and perfect to me. Now, it's a place of nightmares that will haunt me for quite some time.

A/N: That concludes this short Halloween tale ... I hope you enjoyed it!

If you would like to read more Halloween stories, please check out the "Countdown to Halloween: A mythical moment in time." There are some amazing authors over there.

AND ... I may have another Halloween surprise for you very soon. ;)

Happy Halloween!