Nothing Stronger
by: raileht

Summary: There's nothing stronger than a mother's love.
Disclaimer: The ones you don't know are mine, the ones you do aren't.
Rating: T, to be safe

Spoilers/Timeline: another jump off of Mind Games—came while I was writing for Fragments and kept hitting wall after wall. This time I changed a lot of things again. Anyone surprised?

Note: Relatively short piece, as you can see and I'm not planning to make this one last more than a couple or so chapters. This was really just something I had to get out of my head so I can write other things. This was like a damned clog in my brain, I just had to get it out or else the update to Fragments will never be done.

And the title was taken from the conversation between Megan and Joan Hunt while the latter was getting drunk off of Bourbon Jam, which is kinda rad to a loser teetotaler like me.

-o0o0o0o0o-

"Lacey, are you here?"

The light coming from underneath the bedroom door was enough to alleviate the heart attack that was so close to happening right then.

"Oh, thank god," a smile of relief graced her features as she reached for the door, "Lace…"

"Wha—God, Mom!" the pre-teen jumped, whirling around from her position in front of her desk, "Don't you knock? You scared me!"

"I'm sorry," Megan apologized though she couldn't stop smiling, "I was just—"

"Late, I know," the girl mumbled, looking away from her and moving towards her bed, charcoal pastels in hand. She positioned herself on her bed, sitting Indian style completely ignoring her mother as she reached for her open sketchbook.

Megan looked at her, the relief she felt only moments prior quickly replaced by perplexity. She made a quick revisit to the last conversation she had with her daughter, trying to remember if they were supposed to be mad each other now. Lacey had yet to reach the age where they hate absolutely everything for no reason and Megan was sure she would notice if she had. No, at the moment, her daughter was still at that stage where she actually had reasons for being upset.

She dreaded the day her sweet girl would turn into this sullen moody creature but she decided it wasn't the right moment to think of that now. She had to deal with whatever had gotten her daughter into 'ignore Mom' mode and see if she could salvage the evening.

After the phone call with Wilson Polley, she knew she desperately needed her daughter close tonight.

Pop music played freely from the iPod on her desk and judging from the stacks of books and crumpled paper precariously sitting on the edges of her desk, Megan deduced Lacey had finished her homework and was now moving to some downtime. The sketchpad she was using was still stark white and carefully, the girl was pulling out the tray of pastels from its container.

Remembering a few snippets from her own childhood, Megan thought about her own experiences with her mother as she unwound her scarf from around her neck and tucked it into the strap of her purse. There were a few stand outs that came easily from memory and she didn't need to remind herself to do the exact opposite of what her mom had done in those situations.

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes as she cleared her mind the way she did before entering crime scenes. When she exhaled, she opened her eyes and leaned casually against the shelf closest to the door and asked in an even tone, "What's going on, Lace?"

It took a moment and she didn't miss the eye-roll that seemed to just come naturally to pre-teens and teenage girls around the world. She would be a year's pay that particular trait was genetically encoded in females—it just came so naturally after all.

"Like you don't know," Lacey muttered, holding a dark red pastel in hand, a color she used often judging by how it was half of its original size already. She didn't look at her mother and instead, glared at the empty page.

"I don't so why don't you tell me?" Megan said simply, reminding herself over and over again to keep her cool. It was hard, but she had too many similar conversations with her mother, most of them not ending well and she didn't want to repeat that with Lacey. She knew how she felt after those conversations, how some of them still made her feel the same as she did back then. She wanted to be careful.

Lacey looked up, mouth opening for a moment before closing again, staring at her mother before narrowing her eyes, the storm brewing there clear as day to Megan. She waited her out, wondering just what her daughter seemed to be holding back from and knowing, just by looking at her, it won't be long before she would actually tell her.

The pre-teen pursed her lips, her jaw tensing and Megan merely tilted her head to the side, raising her eyebrows slightly and that was all she needed.

Raising her chin slightly in what could most likely be a subconscious show of defiance, Lacey finally spoke, "Jenna's having a party tonight and, of course, I'm the only one missing it."

"And?" Megan raised an eyebrow—she had tried not to let the dubious tone show in her voice, but a little of it had come through.

She was never the cool kid back when she was Lacey's age, never actually tried so the whole process of what Lacey was going through was a little alien to her. Sure, she'd been to a few parties but she never quite aspired to being one in the 'in' crowd the way her daughter did. Still, she tried to relate, tried to put herself in her daughter's place to try and understand. Sometimes, like tonight and the last discussion involving a certain Tommy Worth who threw a party Lacey hadn't been invited to, Megan still tended to miss now and again.

"And? Don't you get it, mom? I'm sick of it—all of it," Lacey snapped, further incensed by her mother's lack of understanding. Why couldn't she understand? She was practically thirteen, she had friends, a social life—heck, a life to live. Why was her mother so intent on holding her back? Why couldn't she let Lacey have fun like others her age? Inwardly, she lamented being saddled with an overprotective mother. She was so unfair.

"Excuse me?" Megan asked slowly, pushing off the shelf and straightening her posture. If she was going to take a hit tonight, she was making sure she was standing for it. God, this made her dread Lacey becoming a full-fledged teenager even more.

"You don't let me do anything anymore!" Lacey all but screamed, standing from the bed as she too mentally prepared for the impromptu battle that had been laid out. She had had enough already and she had been holding in her feelings for a while now and tonight, she couldn't just shut up anymore.

"Lacey, I don't even know what you're talking about, what party?" Megan focused her mind on reaching her daughter and not blowing up.

"The one Jenna's throwing tonight!" see, her mother couldn't even retain the details of what she'd said two sentences ago. She could remember how to open a brain and fix it, why couldn't she remember that? She didn't care and that just irked Lacey even more.

"You never asked me about a party," Megan pointed out.

"That's because you would have said no," Lacey ground out, "Can you tell me you would have said yes? Or that there might have been a small chance you would have even considered it?"

Megan didn't answer immediately, her own jaw tensing as her daughter threw an almost hateful look at her. Lacey was angry, she reminded herself. She was frustrated and emotional from adjusting to her condition. She didn't need to add fuel to the fire with her own temper.

"See?" Lacey said after a beat, obviously taking her mother's silence as the answer, "Ever since this stupid diabetes thing you've done everything you can to make sure I don't have fun! And you know what? I'm tired of it! You're being unfair!"

"I'm being unfair?" Megan began and couldn't stop the incredulity she felt from affecting her response, "Lacey—"

"You're scared!" Lacey cut her off as if she hadn't even heard her respond. She'd been holding it all in for so long, being able to let go like this was almost therapeutic. And she had already started, it was hard to stop now. "You are scared of everyone and everything, you make it impossible for me to live a normal life! You don't want me to have a normal life. You just want to control it because of your own fears and I'm tired of it!"

"Lacey!"

"I'm not a child anymore—I can make my own decisions," Lacey continued, "I'm growing up, Mom, and guess what? I can take care of myself!" She stopped, breathing hard, her fists clenched at her sides, "Peter thinks I'm mature enough to make my own decisions. Why can't you?"

Megan opened her mouth to answer, the reminders to keep her temper in check slowly being chipped at by the words her daughter threw at her. She wanted to make Lacey understand, wanted to be able to reign in her own frustrations because she knew it had to be harder for someone so young to be burdened by a life-altering medical condition. It was a lot for Lacey to handle, it was understandable.

But hearing those things coming out of her mouth, being accused that way, Megan did feel the need to defend herself, felt that Lacey needed to see things from her point of view so she could somehow understand. She would not deny she was scared because she was and she knew Lacey was scared too, but they both needed to adjust and Megan at least wanted the chance not to be seen as the bad guy in this scenario when all she ever wanted, could ever want, for Lacey was to be safe and healthy.

Then adding the matter of Wilson Polley and his threats that left Megan's blood freezing in her veins—she wanted to shield Lacey from that but a part of her wanted to tell her, if only to try and make her understand that her fears lay beyond the matters of insulin shock.

"Look—" she began, only to stop when she thought she heard something during the lull in between track changes in the music. She glanced behind her, checking the door and saw it was still open. A quick glance to her own bedroom also showed her own in the same state as when she came in—halfway open.

"What?" Lacey asked, wondering about the sudden shift in her mother's mood. She was so sure she had driven her mother on the warpath by her outburst, she had readied herself to be yelled at but she just seemed to stop cold which was rather odd and somewhat disconcerting. Her mother was one of the most focused people on the planet and was not easily distracted when her attention was on something. Veering from a fight like that was unusual.

"Did you hear that?" Megan asked but another song had begun to play already.

"Hear what?" Lacey moved towards her iPod, but Megan waved at her to stop and she did. "Mom, what—"

"The door, did you just hear that?"

"What? No, mom, what are you talking about? I—"

She raised a hand to silence her daughter, moving quietly and carefully as she stepped out of her bedroom, looking towards the direction she had taken not too long ago. She could have sworn she heard the front door close just now.

Looking and unfortunately finding, Megan's heart fell to the ground as her eyes widened, taking in the sight before her.

Wilson Polley stood just inside her home, blocking the doorway he had just entered, dressed in a dark jacket and jeans, looking every bit the free man he had no right being.

And he was looking right back at Megan.

"Honey," he drawled as he gave her a feral grin, "I'm home."

-o0o-

It took about a split second for the shock to wear off.

Then Megan moved, slipping back into her daughter's bedroom and slammed the door, locking it.

"Mom, what's going on?" Lacey was incredibly confused, wondering what had suddenly made her mom act so erratically. She didn't get an answer as her mother moved towards her so fast, she almost backed away. Not that she would have had much chance because her mother grabbed her wrist and pulled, "Wha—Mom!"

"No time to talk, come on!" Megan said with urgency, dragging her daughter towards the bathroom just as a loud bang came from Lacey's bedroom door, making both mother and daughter jump.

"What was that?" the girl asked, suddenly afraid, watching as her mother closed both of the bathroom doors leading to their bedrooms and locked them as well. "Mom, who was that? Someone's in here! Mom, what's happening? Mom?"

Megan stopped, her mind racing as she took a moment to breathe. She looked at her bag, forgetting she'd held on to it during her whole conversation with her daughter. She didn't hesitate, turning towards the sink and dump all its contents out. She grabbed her phone and turned towards Lacey.

Lacey was already in tears, still able to hear the distant banging coming from her bedroom door, "Mom? What's happening? Please. I'm scared, I—"

"I need you to listen to me," Megan, crouching a little so she could look her daughter in the eyes, "Lacey, I need you to listen. Breathe, okay? Breathe. That's it. Breathe."

"Mom, what—"

"We don't have much time," Megan cut her off, wiping her cheek firmly while pushing her phone into her daughter's hand, "Just listen, okay?" Her nod was all she needed, "When I say run, you run, do you hear me?"

"Mom—"

"Lacey, I need to know you understand, just nod," Megan insisted, taking on a tone that was firmer and harsher, "I need you to do as I say, alright? Exactly as I tell you. When I say run, you run. You run as fast as you can to the door, okay? You run, you get out of here and you call for help. You get far away from here until you're safe. Call 911 then Detective Bud Morris. Do you understand?"

"Mom, what are you going to—" Lacey's question was cut off when she heard a crash, letting out a whimper, "Mom!"

They both heard her bedroom door giving as whoever had invaded their home barreled through the door. There was a subsequent crash and the pop music stopped playing. Another crash and this time, it was louder and closer.

"Lacey," her mother gasped, pulling her into a tight hug before pulling back, cupping her face with both hands as their eyes met again, both full of tears and fear, "I need to know you understood all of that. Say you do."

"I do, but mom—"

She wiped her daughter's tears away and tried to give her a comforting smile as her own eyes filled with tears, "Just run, okay baby? You run. Don't stop for anything, keep running until you're far and safe. I need you to do this for me."

"Mom, what are you going to do?"

"I'm—" Megan stopped when there was a gentle knock.

Then in a sickeningly melodious tone, "Dr. Hunt…come out and play."

Megan moved Lacey behind her, shielding her from the door and began to back them both away, one hand clamped onto her daughter's forearm. The doorknob jiggled, unable to do more with the lock firmly in place. From behind her, Lacey whimpered again, taking a fistful of her mother's jacket on her sides, "Mom…"

"It's going to be okay," Megan said quietly, moving her closer to the door, "Just do what I told you to do, Lacey, I promise. Everything will be okay."

"I came all this way, you know," the voice said from the other side of the door, "So far away. The least you could do is be a good hostess and come out and talk. Maybe offer some milk and cookies? I'm sure Lacey would like some."

"He knows my name," Lacey whimpered, "Mommy, he—"

She was cut off once more by another loud bang and the mirrors of the bathroom seemed to shudder with the force it brought with it. Lacey screamed, barely able to muffle it against her mother's back as Megan held on to her tighter.

"Come on, Dr. Hunt, I just want to talk, just the little matter of you putting me away for something I didn't do," the sentence was followed by another bang, "I promise, just came for a chat."

Megan stopped when they reached the door on the other end of the bathroom, turning towards it while keeping Lacey shielded with her body still and unlocked it quietly, "Remember what I said, Lacey. Run."

"But what about you?" Lacey whimpered, "I won't leave you, Mom, I—"

"I'll be right behind you, I promise," Megan said, closing her eye and pressing a kiss in her hair. "I promise."

Lacey tried to speak again, only to stop when she heard the intruder speak again, "I see Lacey seems to be quite the little artist. You know, my daughter liked to draw too? Of course, that was a long time ago. I don't know if she still likes it…and I have you to thank for that, don't I, Dr. Hunt?"

He spoke Megan's name with such malice, it dripped with poison, belying the friendly tone he was using to taunt her and her daughter with. She put herself in front of Lacey again, praying to god her plan would work because this was a nightmare come to life for her, the sum of all her fears realized in the form of her daughter, trapped with her at the hands of a psychopath.

And Megan only had one plan, one chance to make sure he wouldn't win. There was no room for error, it was unacceptable, not with Lacey with her. She needed to get her out, to make sure Lacey would be far out of the maniac's reach because Megan knew if he ever got his hands on her child, she would have already lost.

A loud bang came again, hard enough that it felt as if it was enough to make both of them believe another blow just as hard would take the door down. Lacey whimpered again, sobbing as she pressed her face against Megan's back once more, her arms slipping around Megan's waist.

"Come out here, you fucking bitch! Come out or I'll drag you out myself!"

"Mom…" Megan moved Lacey behind her even more, shielding her body completely with her own. She wanted to hold her daughter, wanted to reassure her everything was going to be okay, but she knew she couldn't, not right now. Megan knew she had only one chance to get this right and holding Lacey wasn't an option she was allowed to take, no matter how badly she ached to do so.

As if ramming the door again and again, the thunderous reverberation of each blow that came had Megan seeing in her mind's eye Polley slamming his body against the wood until it splintered. Body density, force, adrenaline and rage combined, she knew the barrier won't hold for long. Lacey's bedroom hadn't had much of a chance and it was only a matter of time before the second door gave way too.

Wilson Polley was a determined son of a bitch, even more so now that he thought he had her where he wanted her.

It had gotten louder, combined with Polley's screaming and his ramming the door, Megan could barely hear Lacey's crying and the little screams she couldn't suppress as each blow increased. She held on to her forearm, trying hard to regulate her breathing even as her own daughter's shaking body seemed to affect her own similarly. She was steadfast though, planting her feet firmly on the tiled floors of the bathroom and locked her knees.

Polley screamed and with a last almighty bang, the door finally gave way. It didn't open but the distinct crack of the wood and the shattered lock made enough noise to alert the cornered preys.

Megan sprung into action, pulling Lacey off against the wall and threw the door open, pushing her out, "Go! Run, Lacey! Run!"

Lacey didn't need to be told twice, running out into her mother's bedroom.

Megan turned just in time to see Polley kick the door open, the battered piece of wood bouncing off the wall as it made its impact. She shut the door behind her, locking it.

He grinned, "Hello. Can Lacey come out and play?"

"Stay away from my daughter," Megan snarled, blocking the door with her body. "Stay the hell away!"

"Oh, such angry words," Polley tutted, coming towards her, "Careful, you're going to make me think you're not happy to see me"

"Yes, well, let's see what you think of this," with that, Megan grabbed the jar on the counter and rammed it straight at his head.

Polley tried to duck, blocking the object with his arm and it exploded. He snarled, shielding his eyes just as Megan moved back, turning her face away to avoid the shards and pieces from catching her as well.

She made a move to run, but Polley grabbed her, taking her by the arms. The back of his hand met her face in full force then he slammed her against the wall once, knocking the air right out from her lungs and threw her on the ground. Her head smacked against the cold tiles with a sickening crack and Polley left her there, momentarily stunned.

Curling up slightly with nothing but pain overtaking her senses, Megan saw his blurred form head towards the door leading to her bedroom, wrenching the door open and taking off. She moved, groaning as the world seemed to tilt on its axis and she gasped out desperately, "Lacey, no…"

Dazed and blinking rapidly to regain her equilibrium, Megan crawled and pushed her body up. She stumbled, grabbing hold on the counter before pushing herself through the shattered door.

"Lacey," she whispered again, hurrying through her daughter's bedroom on wobbly feet and to the first door Polley had all but obliterated.

She came out, just in time to catch Polley running past her and she turned towards the main door, horrified to see Lacey only just getting out. She almost screamed, her senses coming fully alert at the sight of danger heading straight for her daughter.

Megan grabbed the plump round vase full of tulips, dumping the flowers and held it by the rim. She kept her hold sure as she ran after Polley, slamming the piece of décor onto the back of his head. Polley faltered and nearly fell on one knee but he kept going, heading straight for Lacey.

"No!" she screamed, grabbing on to the back of his jacket and pulled him back as hard as she could, spinning him around. He slipped and she moved her foot in front of his, tripping him and slammed him face first onto the hardwood floors.

That's when Lacey stopped, horrified eyes catching the man who had broken into their home at her mother's feet. Megan stopped, breathing heavily and turned to her, catching sight of Lacey who had been stunned to silence in front of the open door, making no move to leave.

"Lacey! I said run! Run, Lacey!" Megan screamed, nearly hysterical as she moved towards her daughter, only to stop and fall back as Polley grabbed at the skirt of her dress then her ankle. Megan fell with a scream, landing on her chin hard on the carpeted floor. She felt Polley's hand clawing at her leg so she turned her body when she was unable to dislodge the man's grip from around her boot. She moved her head upwards, seeing her petrified child, "Lacey! GET OUT OF HERE!"

She kicked the heel of the leg Polley wasn't holding on to and dug it into the hand wrapped around her ankle, scrapping right into his skin. He gave out a cry and she followed it with another, kicking him square on the face and shoved a heel into his shoulder, pushing her body away from him in the process as he screamed loudly again in an almost animalistic way.

Megan was on her knees and then her feet in seconds, running towards Lacey, "Go! Lacey, run! Run! Get out, Lacey! Go! Now!"

Seeing her mother break free from her captor seemed to be the jolt Lacey needed, coming to life as she moved, slipping through the door and out. Megan ran after her, making sure her daughter was clear from it before glancing behind her.

Polley had gotten up and he looked mad as hell with blood pouring from his nose.

Making her decision, Megan surged forward, hands reaching out and as soon as she was close enough to the door, she slammed it shut with a swift push.

And locked it.

In turn, locking Lacey out and as well as locking herself in with the madman that was Wilson Polley.

-o0o-

Lacey turned just in time to see her mother run towards the door.

She was close, so close and she held her breath, her mother's phone held in hand. She knew they would need to run but she was relieved to see her mother get away from that monster.

Lacey almost rejoiced, that is, until she saw her mother reach out and suddenly slam the door.

"Wha—MOM!" she screamed, launching herself at the door and tried to open it, failing. She began to knock wildly, her fists smacking against the hardwood, barely feeling the sting of pain that came with each blow, "Mom! What are you doing? Mom! Open the door! Please, mom! Open the door!"

"Run, Lacey! Ru—" she heard her mother say but it was cut off by a loud thump.

She stumbled back, barefoot and scared, staring at the door with wide eyes full of fear. She heard another thump, louder this time and it jolted her into running, hearing her mother's voice commanding her to do what she said in her mind.

With a sob, Lacey ran, her bare feet trailing down the stairs as fast as she could.

She didn't stop until she reached the lobby, running to the doorman's desk only to find it empty. Frantic, she practically hopped on the desk only to look over and scream.

There was a body sprawled behind it and it was Oscar, the night shift doorman and he wasn't moving.

Horrified, Lacey moved without looking, falling off the desk sideways in a heap. She didn't feel it.

Instead, she got back up and ran, fumbling with her mother's phone and dialed 911. Lacey gave their address before the operator could inquire of anything, "My name is Lacey Fleming. A man broke into our house! Please help! My mom is still in there! He's going to kill her! He broke into the house! Help, please!"

She hung up, sobbing and nearly hysterical as she fell against a wall, nearly a block from her mother's building, outside a laundromat. She huddled in a dark corner, sobbing quietly as the tightness in her chest increased and her lungs burned for air. The next number she called answered a few several rings later, she almost gave up.

"Listen, doc, whatever this is—"

"Det-detective Morris?"

"Wha-Lacey? Lacey?"

"Ye-yes," Lacey couldn't understand why she suddenly couldn't speak properly, wiping her nose with the sleeve of the shirt she wore for sleeping. "Please-please help, my mom's in trouble!"

"What's going on? Are you okay? Where are you?"

"A man broke into the house and he's still there and so is my mom! She fought him and she pushed me out. She stayed behind! Please, you have to do something! He's going to kill her!" Lacey finally blurted out, her chest rising and falling rapidly as her knees gave from under her, letting out a cry as she slid down against the cold wall, sobbing even harder. "Pl-please."

"Okay, okay, Lacey, help is on the way," Bud said from the other end of the line, "We're coming, alright, Lacey? Just stay put. Where are you right now?"

"I-I don't know," she answered, looking around and suddenly scared to be completely alone, "A block from my mom's building? I ran. There's lights…it could be the laundry place on the corner. She-she told me to run. She told me!"

"I understand, okay, we're coming, Lacey," Bud said, "Don't go anywhere, do you understand? Help is coming. Just stay where you are."

"Please help my mom! Please!" she practically screamed, the hysteria unmistakable in her voice.

"We will, Lacey, I promise," Bud said calmly, "We're coming. Help is on the way, alright? I will stay on the line with you until we find you, okay? Just stay somewhere safe. I will find you."

"Okay," Lacey nodded, curling up against the wall, huddling as her body continued to shake violently, "Please don't go away. I'm scared. My mom…my mom…you have to help her. Please, help my mom…"

Bud's voice was soft and calm as he spoke to her, "It's going to be okay, Lacey. You're going to be okay."

-o0o-

"Run, Lacey! Ru—"

Megan's words were was cut off when she Polley ram himself against her back, his body landing hard on hers, smacking her flat against the door. She gasped, dizzy from the sudden weight and turned just in time to see his fist flying in her direction. She moved out of the way, narrowly missing the blow, letting his fist smash right into the wood, denting it and he let out a cry.

She took that to her advantage, grabbing his head and slamming it sideways against the wall next to them, right beside the piece of art hanging on the wall, making it wobble precariously in its place. Polley growled but she barely gave him time to recover before dropping right to the floor and swiping her leg right onto his ankles, making him fall forward and this time, hitting the wall face first. Blood and saliva smeared against the wall, leaving a dark stain in its wake.

While he was down, Megan scrambled away from him, hoping she had angered him enough to revert his focus onto her and forget about Lacey. She made a slide towards the kitchen, eyeing the set of knives on the other side, only to suddenly be grabbed from behind in a body-crushing bear hug.

Megan screamed as Polley lifted her off her feet, bringing her right back into the living room. She kicked and struggled more until he threw her on the bare hardwood floors, landing painfully on her shoulder. She fell with a hard thud, sprawled on the ground, groaning.

Polley pounced, landing on top of her and pinning her body down with his. She gasped, feeling his full weight fall on her as gravity did its job. It was only then she realized she might have broken a rib but she twisted anyway, jerking as she tried to dislodge him from her, fighting even when pain seemed to shoot from every fiber in her body.

"Isn't this a lovely turn of events," Polley hissed with a menacing grin, his face merely inches from hers, so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. Blood dripped from his nose, falling on her face. "Now, what was it that you reminded me of today?"

Megan grunted, turning her face away, twisting and jerking.

"You had a chance to hear, you taunted me, but you don't know the truth, do you?" Polley said into her ear when she wouldn't look at him, "What Jennifer said…the testimony. All of it. Lies."

"Which part? The part where you were a bore in bed or the part where you couldn't handle that she moved on from you to someone else?" Megan ground out, gasping and her eyes tearing as she tried to take lungful of air.

"She was a tramp and a tease who needed to be put in her place," he hummed, grinning at her, "Now, I could tell you again…and again what a lie that was but why not take advantage of what's so clearly in front of us?"

"What—"

Polley fumbled, pinning her still with his body until there was a loud sound of fabric ripping that seemed to echo in the room. Megan froze and he smiled even wider, "I can prove it to you, Megan, right here, right now. I promise you won't be bored."

She stared at him, taking in the manic glint in his eyes and the feral grin on his face. His eyes were devoid of mercy, devoid of any smidgen of humanity and it spurned her into a renewed struggle, kicking at the hands that trailed the flesh of one leg from where he had ripped her dress. She thrashed underneath him, moving her hands to tear at his face but he only pinned both down once more.

"Three years," he snarled, his breath hot against her skin and she had to turn her face away from him, if only to try and get away from the dead pools that were his eyes, "Three years locked up like an animal…you took everything from me. Now, I'm returning the favor."

Megan failed to see the blow coming, but it did, his hand landing harshly against her cheek. Her head snapped to the side, her vision turning completely black for a moment and left her seeing stars. She cried out, tears springing to her eyes as her need to get away became more urgent, more desperate but just as equally futile.

"Fighting's only going to make this worst," he cautioned her. "But I'm willing to accommodate, however you would like me to. I'm adaptable."

"You're a sick son of a bitch," Megan spat, despite the tears in her eyes, her defiance was clear. "You're going to rot for this."

"There's that forced bravado again," Polley smirked, "You really ought to work on that."

"Go to hell!"

Polley laughed, "I'm going to make you wish you were there, Megan."

Megan shook her head, but then her eyes widened when his hand clamped onto her thigh in a painful grip, feeling the cold air hit her skin as he laid it bare. She screamed, unable to accept the fate he was laying down for her and suddenly surged forward, slamming her head against his.

"Bitch!"

She saw stars when his front teeth collided against her skull, but she made sure she kept conscious. Moaning, she dislodged him from her, clawing her way out from under him as he writhed momentarily, his hand on his mouth. She kicked him aside, pushing her body up to get away from him as her head began to swim.

He recovered quickly though, getting up just as the same time she did.

"You're going to pay for that," Polley grabbed her arm, holding her in place and pulled his fist back and pumped forward. Megan saw it coming, gasping in a sharp breath and moved away, avoiding getting hit in the face but the punch glanced off her shoulder. She faltered, one knee giving against the blow and almost lost her footing, but it also afforded her a look behind him.

And that was when she saw her chance.

The plan formed quickly in her mind and Megan shoved Polley back hard enough to make him let her go and he stumbled. He snarled and came right back at her but she pushed him once more, kicking him on the shin with her boot and then slammed her tightly balled fist in his face with a scream. She hit him on the nose, the same one she had possibly broken when she kicked him in the face earlier. The punch hurt her hand like hell and she might have broken something but it was worth it.

He stumbled back, arms flailing as the back of his legs caught against the ottoman and caused him to hobble helplessly. Polley fell back and over the piece of furniture, landing right onto the glass coffee table, shattering it completely with his body and the back of his head. The impact caused a deafening crash that took over the room and the glass exploded from underneath him, all the while crushing as well a vase that held white roses.

And then suddenly there was Wilson Polley, lying with his torso suspended by the metal shaped like an X with his head disturbingly hanging in between the frames. His face and his head were covered in gashes and blood, his eyes closed.

Megan stared, frozen in place until her knees could no longer support her. She fell onto a heap, her legs bent underneath her looking like a broken doll, unable to take her eyes off of the unmoving body of Wilson Polley. She stared at him, waiting for him pop up and start the struggle all over again. She waited, her heart hammering against her chest, her skin paler than the petals of the roses just underneath his body and the shards of glass, her eyes wide and dilated by shock.

She felt cold, colder than death, and she could hear nothing but the sound of blood rushing in her ears.

Megan stared at the monster, waiting for it to come back to life as monsters often did in books and fairytales. She stared even when nothing happened, even when the monster did not awaken.

But she had to make sure so she never looked away, not for a second, barely blinking.

That was how the first responders on the scene found the Medical Examiner, staring at the body of a serial killer in the middle of her living room.

And not once did Wilson Polley open his eyes.

Note: And now, I must go back to writing Fragments. Comments and feedback on this one? Very much welcome, of course!