Author's Note: I was going to post this as part of my 'Twilight Tales' because it being a one shot song fiction, but this is too much and I want it to stand on its own. This was my first interpretation of the song 'Monster' by Meg and Dia, though this is not the correct one. I read the real meaning of the song, and it was the polar opposite of what almost everyone thought.

I had actually changed this version from the original, realizing this fit more. You'll probably hate me for this, but please review: I'd like to hear everyone's thoughts.

BG info: Post season three, Jude chose Tommy and after they came back (a year later) – Jamie had a girlfriend, but he's chillingly changed. She can't figure him out. The day after the welcome back party party, he shows her to her rehearsal space, telling her he wanted to show her something. And this is what happens after…

Also, I don't need to warn about this, do I? It's rated M for a reason…

Monster
By Miss Massacre

His little whispers: "Love Me. Love Me."
"That's all I ask for: Love Me. Love Me."

Jude's eyes rose from the molded linoleum to the eyes of her predator. The steely eyes of the man who spent his life befriending her, keeping her secrets, making her believe that they were best friends. How it came to this – how she got here – she wasn't sure, but she knew she wanted out. Now. The ropes he'd bound around her wrists begun to burn, reminding her of the impending pain that had just begun. Without notice, his face was inches from hers. The smell of the cologne, the one his nana bought him for Christmas, wafted from his body into her nostrils. His hot breath came in warm, even flows while hers came out in short spurts. "Love me, Jude." He whispered, shaking the chair. "That's all I ever wanted was your love, and you never gave it." He began placing wet, sloppy kisses on her cheeks down her neck and collarbone. Hot tears prickled at the back of her eyes as her stomach churned with vomit. "Why…?" he whispered angrily. "Why…would you deceive me?"

He battered his tiny fists to feel something.
Wondered what it's like to touch and feel something.

On the outside he was cool, calm, and collected, though on the inside he was reeling. He knew what he brought her here to do, and even though months before Hunter was here threatening her life, here he was doing nearly the exact same thing. The surprising thing was that he felt no remorse for what was about to happen. Everything he'd ever touched turned to dust – his mother, his sister, and Patsy. He was a child, his mother and sister were going to the store and he was supposed to go instead of his sister. Instead of making it there, they got in a car accident, drunk driver. Killed on contact, and it was supposed to be him. He never told anyone the remorse he felt, even after his nana took him in. Patsy, the one he really loved – he just pushed her away and he never got the chance to tell her how he felt. He'd lost it there. All sense of feeling. He thought he could find it again in her, but no such luck. She chose Tommy instead. Jude shook in the chair, tears threatening to fall. "Plea-please don't hurt me…" she murmured, closing her eyes causing her tears to fall. In the mid-darkness, he pushed back from the chair and let his chest heave. Balling up his fist, he swung it through midair letting it connect with the side of her face. "Ah!" she cried as her face fell to the side before four more swift blows came in contact. After five more swings and connects, he stepped back from her, chest still heaving and his pulse racing. A rusty, penny taste singed her tongue and she kept her mouth shut as she felt her face starting to swell. If she made it out alive, she knew she'd have to explain.

Monster, how should I feel?
Creatures lie here, looking through the window.

This man who was once warm and inviting, now cold and heartless was a foreign entity to her. The look in his eye, the chilling feeling from his touch, even his voice was unrecognizable. He wasn't himself. She wasn't sure how to feel. Part of her, the insane part she was guessing, still felt something for him. Though the other side of her, the part that knew she wasn't going to get out alive, and for the first time feared him – despised him even. She let her head fall to the side, her eyes traveling outside the large factory window where a black-capped chickadee sat on the sill. 'Parus atricapillus' she thought, remembering studying birds in school. He probably remembered it too. Their song was one that was easily recognized and identified by their name. She stared knowing there was no reason in screaming, the room was soundproofed. As his hands traveled down her quivering body, she let herself get washed away. His eyes seemed to bore into her as she let go, and it seemed to be what he wanted. Inside, he felt that it wasn't time – that he had to make her wait. Wait, antagonize, and make her fear the moment when his touch would make her cringe and not melt. He drug a seat across the floor to sit in front of her, watch her. It got him aroused just thinking of the way she'd fidget underneath him in fear. Fear…that's what he wanted from her, and that's surely what he was going to get.

That night he caged her, bruised and broke her.
He struggled closer, then he stole her!

As the small rays of sunshine disappeared from the wall, so did her clothes. He ripped her shirt, not caring if anything was left of it, it's not like he was to take her home. Be time he'd gotten her jeans off, her heart was beating so hard she thought it'd come through her chest. He pulled her from the chair, the ropes breaking from her wrists, and threw her into the wall. She cringed, and crumpled up on the floor as she slid downwards. He grabbed her by her throat, picking her up straight and letting his eyes drag lazily down her tan body. The tan she got in Thailand…with Tommy. He squeezed even tighter as anger coursed through his veins. She gasped for breath, clawing at his hand wondering where this newfound strength came from. "Please…please. Let me go." She mouthed, her lips turning dry. He slammed her body against the wall, what little breath she had left escaping her lungs. "I was there for you, Jude. I watched as he broke you, time and time again!" he seethed, grabbing her chin with the other hand and making her look him in the face. "And still, you ran off with him. Probably becoming some…whore." He spat, spit flying from his lips at the word and onto her face. His fingers danced around the edge of her panties as her consciousness began slipping. Loosening his hold as he slid them down, and she gulped air while she could. Tears slid from the corners of her eyes, and he rose up to see this. "Oh, Jude." He murmured, stroking her face with evilness in his eye. "Don't worry your stupid little head…I won't make it hurt…that bad." His hands left her face to unbuckle his pants, pulling himself from his boxers.

Without warning he forcefully entered her, causing her to cry out loudly – exactly what he wanted. She wished Tommy would show up, wonder where she was and just sense she was here. As he thrust within her, she let go of herself. Somehow she could feel herself dying, and she did nothing to stop it. Not that she could. She just cried silently, staring at the ceiling, praying and wishing for it to stop. This was the one thing in the world she hoped would never happen to her, she even had become a spokesperson for RAINN while over in Thailand. Not that it mattered to him, he kept himself going until he released inside of her resting his head on her shoulder. Her heart beat a pattern she couldn't recognize, but she was thankful the worst was over. She could take the beatings, just not that. He pulled himself out of her, letting her fall to the floor as he fixed himself back up. She hugged the floor, the coldness bringing her to reality. 'Was it reality?' She thought to herself. 'Would he really do this to me?' She guessed that if she played unconscious that he'd leave her be, but things were never easy for her and she knew it. He dragged her by her ankles then tossed her to the green couch. She pushed herself back as he came upon her, and her back hit violently against the armrest – trapping her. "Wonder if he'd want you now Jude?" he said, leaning over her. "If he'd love you and kiss you. I bet he wouldn't." Pulling back his left hand, he let it release back hitting her face with sound. Her eyes stung with dry tears, but she could cry no more.

Violet wrists and then her ankles, silent pain.
Then he slowly saw their nightmares were his dreams.

His eyes locked with hers, seeing the fear and contempt she held towards him, and a laugh bubbled inside of his chest. He felt powerful now, like he could do anything – well, not everything, but within reach – and it was exactly what he'd been looking for his whole life and was beginning to wonder why he hadn't done it sooner. Deep down, he knew Jude belonged with Tommy, but he wanted her anyway and was determined. His nana taught him to obey God, but once she entered the world of music and drug him along, God went out the door. He coveted, he lied, he cheated, and he didn't care one bit. Looking out the window, he knew he'd need to get home soon. His girlfriend, Rosalie, was with child and he couldn't have her worrying, but as he began strangling Jude to a point of unconsciousness he knew that he couldn't go home. She wouldn't want him after this. Would she? Rosalie was a big fan of Jude's, and she'd probably keep his child from him. As she blacked out, he got up – he couldn't kill her. That was more than his fill, so he just turned on his heel and left, slamming the door in his wake. He stalked down the barren hallway, head down and fists balled. His eyes were burning with anger, why he wasn't sure. As he rounded the corner he bumped into Spiederman.

"Dude, watch it where you're going." He said his guitar case in hand. He knew that Spied would be on his way to the rehearsal space, and he'd see Jude. That left Jamie was the suspect, being the last one seen leaving the loft. "My bad." He said, shielding the anger in his voice with cheerfulness. Looping an arm around his neck, he showed him to the rehearsal space. "Dude, I'm not five. I can get there on my own." Spied told him as he opened the door, eyes landing on Jude's limp body hanging off the couch before quickly darting to Jamie who'd just slammed the door. "D-dude, you didn't?" he said, rushing over to her and stroking the side of her face. He searched for a pulse and found it, sighing gratefully. Whipping back around, he pointed his finger at Jamie. "How the fuck could you do that to her?!" he yelled, his face nearly red. He didn't hear him though; he was too busy looking at the chickadee Jude had been looking at earlier. He still sat out there, but this time there were a few more birds of his kind. They seemed to sing, though Jamie couldn't hear them and for the first time he thought he knew what it felt like to be deaf.

Monster, how should I feel?
Creatures lie here looking through the windows.

Spied stood there, eyebrows tightly together and heart pounding. He couldn't believe that his friend would do suck a thing to his supposed best friend. Tommy had been at Jamie & Pagan's label just before he left and was asking if he'd seen Jude. He'd hate to be the bearer of bad news. He launched himself at Jamie, his fist connecting with his jaw. "You bastard." He spat, as he fell and stood over top of him hitting him repeatedly with his fists. Jamie, smartly, curled up and blocked himself though he made a few connects to his face, but before too long Spied had tired himself out. "Why…" he breathed, backing away with his fists still balled. Swallowing thickly, he turned back to Jude and lifted her up, looking for her clothes. Seeing a ripped shirt, he pulled off his own and put it on her. Jamie looked at the birds once more, getting a little frustrated by the lack of hearing and the envy of them. They were free. They were free to do what they want, and go where they want whenever they pleased. Unlike him, Mister-Straight-Edge-Business-Man that never took or went anywhere but to home and work. Hoping to get the attention of a girl who was completely head over heels for someone else. He crawled towards the window, and stood up to punch the glass. It shattered on contact, and he winced loudly in pain. A cool gush of air flowed through the open space, chilling his body and the room quickly.

I will hear their voices.
I'm a glass child, I am Hannah's regrets.

He stood there, his outstretched arm holding him up and smiled softly hearing their song. Leaning his head on the sill, he felt broken and vulnerable – and the worst moment of all his life fizzled into his memory.

Jamie and his little sister, Margaret whom everyone affectionately called Meg, sat on the step of their grandparent's house waiting for their mother to pick them up. She was late yet again, and it was starting to get cold. Meg shivered inside her sweater and Jamie put his arm around her. As if on cue, she pulled up in their old beat up Cadillac. Jamie stood up and led Meg to the back seat, closing the door. He got in up front, and looked over at his mother. "Mom, you're an hour late…where were you?" he asked, feeling forgotten. She lit up a cigarette and sped away, leaning her forehead on two fingers as her eyes stayed glued to the road. "What does it matter to you? You two were with nana and pop-pop, where I was is MY business." She said, turning on the radio which was in the middle of a song by 'Kiss'. Even over the loud blaring of the guitar and drums Jamie could hear her loud and clear as she spoke to herself. "Having kids must be the biggest regret of my life."

Monster, how should I feel?
Turn the sheets down, murder ears with pillow lace.

Spied felt panic rising, and he spotted her jeans across the room. He stroked her face softly, and looked at her then Jamie and back. "Hold on for me, Jude." He whispered, rushing across the room and snatching her pants from the floor. As he turned around, Jamie met him with a bloody fist between the eyes and he fell to the floor. Jamie straddled him, a pillow coming from behind him, pushing it and holding it against his face. His hands were placed over the areas of his nose and mouth, pressing force in hope for him to stop moving. Under him, Spied thrashed and kicked, but it was no hope – he was bound for the morgue. As he slowly lost his breath, and consciousness he saw his life flash before his eyes. With his final gasp for air he thrashed his knee going into Jamie's back and fell limp, his head falling to the side. Jamie sat there, his hands still on the pillow and stopped in realization of what he just did. Sure Spied would've said something, got him in trouble, but they were life long buddies – chums, and he'd just murdered him. He stood up; his hands hanging out in mid-air and let his jaw hang. Behind him Jude stirred, but made no sound oblivious to what had happened.

Slowly, he walked to the small bathroom that held an old claw foot tub, with toilet and sink. He stared at himself in the mirror – his eyes were sunken, his skin a patchy white and his lips were cracking. The knuckles of the hand he'd busted the window with throbbed, but he still lifted up the dried bloody fist and shattered the mirror. He turned to face the bathtub, rusted and dirty. It reminded him of the tin can he'd catch fire flies with – it reminded him of the good days. From the corner of his eye, he spotted the old lamps that were left from the old tenants – they must've been at least eighty years old. Grabbing them, he busted the tops of, dumping the kerosene into the basin of the tub. When he was done, shards of glass had fallen into the clear liquid and he reached to turn on the hot water. The pipe groaned in protest, spitting out nothing before a gush of water came through the faucet. The murky off colored water filled the tub quickly and he shut it off before the overflow point. He kicked off his sneakers, and crossed himself. He placed a pack of matches on the edge of the tub, making sure they weren't to fall in.

There's bath tubs, full of glow flies.
Bathe in kerosene, their words tattooed in his veins, yeah.

"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: For thou art with me;" He whispered, climbing into the tub wincing as the shards of glass met his skin. He kept reciting as he sunk lower into the tub, making sure not to get his hands wet. "Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me." He dipped his head under, his hands straight up in the air, and swallowed a mouthful of the kerosene and water mix. "Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies; Thou annointest my head with oil; My cup runneth over." He shook the water from his face and grabbed the matches. He strike the match against the grain, it fizzing out before sparking a flame. "Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life," he said successfully striking the match this time. His eyes watched as he held the flame above the water. "And I will dwell in the House of the Lord…" he held his breath and at the same time he dropped the match he muttered the last word. "Forever."

-Le Finish!-