Summary: Marie Swan Cook lived in fear of her husband James. After escaping and assuming a new identity as Bella, she embarks on a new life. Can she learn to trust and love another man with the help of her neighbor Edward Masen? AH, OOC, BxE, AxJ, EmxR (Based in part on Sleeping with the Enemy)

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns any Twilight characters and Twilight plot lines that may appear in this story. The remainder is my original work. Copyright 2008 by SavageWoman. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without my express written authorization.

Disclaimer: I also don't own Sleeping with the Enemy. The movie belongs to Twentieth Century-Fox Film Corporation. The book belongs to Nancy Price.

Sleeping with a Monster

Chapter 1 – Monster

"Marie Cook?" the nurse called from the open doorway. I stood up as I heard my name and walked towards her. The nurse was a few inches taller than I was with a full figure. She had tons of curly dirty blonde hair spiraling down to her shoulders. She looked at me and smiled, "Marie?"

"Yes," I said returning her smile.

"I'm Margaret, Dr. Cullen's nurse. Please follow me and we will get you into an exam room. First I need your vitals," Margaret instructed as she pointed to the scale. I did not need to stand on the scale to know exactly how much I weighed – 105 pounds. She looked at the scale and wrote down the number as she mumbled 105 to herself. Then she measured my height – 5 feet 4 inches. She continued with the preliminaries, taking my blood pressure. As I felt the pressure cuff tighten around my bicep, I tried to calm my heartbeat. I did not want the doctor to know how nervous I was about this visit. If my husband found out…

Calm. Peaceful. Serene.

I chanted those three words in an effort to settle the fear welling up in my chest. I felt myself start to relax a little as the pressure cuff slowly released its air in spurts as the vein in my arm started to throb – 130 over 75. Not as low as I would like, but it would do. They didn't know me at this clinic, so they would not have any of my previous health information to question my elevated heart rate.

Once she was done with the necessities for a visit to the doctor's office, Margaret led me into the small room dominated by a large bulky looking examination table. I chose to sit in one of the two chairs available in the room.

"I need to take you temperature. Will you please move your hair?" she said as she turned to face me with an electronic ear thermometer. I moved my pencil straight brown locks behind my ear to give her access. Unfortunately, my hair started to slide off my ear so I tilted my head to the side causing my tresses to slip off my neck.

"Oh honey, where did you get that nasty bruise?" she gasped when she spied my husband's latest gift to me on the nape of my neck.

"I was outside cleaning the windows of my house and fell off the ladder. The bucket of water landed on my neck and gave me that nasty looking thing," I lied with a chagrinned look on my face. I had learned to lie very convincingly during the course of my one-year marriage to James.

"No worries," I continued with my best fake smile glued to my face. I was glad she didn't press the issue as she exited the room. However, without her presence to distract me, I was left with nothing but my own thoughts.

My marriage to James was not what I had expected. When I met him two years ago, he was charming, caring and gentle. However, as I looked back on our courtship, I realized that there were subtle signs of his true nature. Unfortunately, he was very good a hiding how he truly was. While we dated, he was a little on the over-protective side, but I thought it was because he loved me. He tended to get jealous of any man who flirted with me, but he never directed his anger at me.

James literally swept me off my feet. He was good-looking to say the least, tall, blonde, muscular with a beautiful smile and clear blue eyes. It was funny that I never noticed how his smile never reached his eyes back then. He was successful, older than I was by several years, and well connected. While we dated, I always suspected he had more money than he led on, but I didn't marry him because of his money. I married him because I thought I was in love and I guess at the time, I was. But, as I looked back on our marriage, I really could not recall anything about him that I loved.

I knew right after we returned from our honeymoon what a huge mistake I had made in marrying James. That is when he changed and educated me to the hard cold facts of what our marriage would be like. When I protested, he hit me. When I said I was leaving him he told me he would kill me if I ever left. To drive his threat home, he beat me until I passed out from the pain. He rarely, if ever, hit me in the face. Of course, not; he didn't want to leave a visible mark that was difficult to cover up. Most of my bruises were to the rest of my body hidden under my clothing or my hair. Although he has never given me a beating like that first one, the memory of it is what has kept me with him and has ensured that I would never doubt his threats to kill me.

"Good morning, Mrs. Cook," the doctor mumbled with his head in my chart as he entered the room, startling me out of my thoughts.

"Please call me Marie," I replied, smiling at him as he looked up.

"So, what are we seeing you for today?" He returned my smile while asking that all too familiar question that all doctors ask when seeing a patient in their office. I wonder if that question is something they make all doctors memorize in med school.

"Well, I would like to change my birth control method from the pill to a Depo-Provera shot," I told him trying to sound confident in my decision.

"I see. I don't know if you know this, but I typically recommend that form of birth control be limited to two years or less. Studies have found that any longer than two years will result in a loss of bone density. Were you expecting to be on it longer than two years?" he questioned.

"Actually, no. My husband and I are planning to start a family, but the timing is not right. We would like to start sometime in the near future, possibly in a year or two. We just don't want any slip ups right now and I seem to be having a hard time remembering to take my pill." I hoped he would not see through my lies. As he started to ask about my family history, the date of my last pelvic exam, date of my last menstrual cycle, I gave him all the necessary answers he wanted so I could get what I needed. Soon he started to go over some of the other risks involved and the side effects I would suffer once I went off the Depo shots. He leaned back in his chair when he had finished his interrogation, seeming to be satisfied that I knew what I was doing.

"I'll send Margaret in with your first shot," Dr. Cullen said with a smile. "Now make sure you come back every three months for your shot or you will risk getting pregnant." He stepped out in the hall to get Margaret. Before long, Margaret was back administering the shot to my hip. I paid my bill in cash so I would not have a paper trail back to James, hoping that the phony address I had given the clinic would go unnoticed. I left quickly. I guess if they had a problem with my information, I could try a different clinic in three months. There were plenty of them in the greater Miami-Dade area. I could not be gone too long or I would have a hard time accounting to James what I did today.

I hated my life. I hated myself, but most of all I hated the monster I was married to. Somehow, I would find a way out, but I could not do that if I were pregnant. If we had a baby, James would always be a part of my life. James would never let me leave with his child. Not that he could love our baby. He wouldn't. A child would be another possession to him; something else to control, but certainly not love. I could never do that to an innocent life. I would never have a baby with James. I could not do that to my own flesh and blood. I knew James did not want children, although when we dated he certainly made on that he did. But, that changed. I knew if he ever changed his mind, it would be for the control aspect and nothing more.

I hurried to my black BMW sedan. I needed to get back to the library and check out a book so I could show James the time stamp on the checkout slip. He would check. He always checked making a mental time line of my whereabouts everyday.

I quickly drove to the library, parked my car and jogged inside. I scanned the bookshelves looking for a book that James would approve of. I almost grabbed 'The Stepford Wives,' but then thought better of it. James would most certainly not see the humor in that, and I would most certainly pay for my impudence. I settled on a compilation of Shakespeare's works, knowing that James would approve. I quickly checked out the book and headed out to my car. I had so much to do before James got home tonight. As I drove, I made a mental list of my daily 'chores' trying to decide which ones I could fudge on if I ran out of time.

As I pulled my into the garage of our beachfront property, I picked up my library book, quickly exited my car and ran inside. The two-story house rose right out of the sand on the beach and the entire eastern wall was glass allowing for a spectacular view of the Atlantic Ocean. The home was very modern and cold with black shiny marble floors and black granite counter tops. The walls were white; in fact, the entire house was devoid of any other colors except black and white. The only spot of color allowed was the fresh flowers on the dining room table, as long as they were a soft and muted color. James said he loved the simplicity of black and white; but I knew it was for other reasons. He demanded that the house be spotless - not an easy thing when living on the beach with black marble floors. I had to be diligent in my cleaning duties or I would pay dearly.

Today, I was lucky. The house was still clean from yesterday's scrubbing, as James had to work late last night. I needed to think. I needed a plan. I needed money that I did not have to account for to James. I needed to escape.

**************

My heart rate quicken as I heard James pull his red Ferrari into the garage. I was nervous and I needed to get myself under control or he would know something was up. Eight o'clock sharp. That's when James came home every night. He expected a hot, home-cooked, elegant dinner on the table, complete with candles, wine and soft music. He expected me to be dressed in nothing less than a designer dress (preferably red – the only bright colored allowed), high heels, hair done, and fresh makeup. All evidence of meal preparations had to be cleared away. James tried to make all my decisions for me, from the clothing I wore, how the house was decorated, my hair style, what make-up I wore, the way I spoke, who I my friends were… oh, wait, I have no friends. James saw to that too.

I had perfected this routine over the last year, but occasionally something would happen that was out of my control. The other night he taught me a 'lesson' because one of the flowers in the arrangement on the dining room table had dropped a petal, thus ruining the final presentation of dinner. James saw it as he came in from the garage and before I knew what was happening, he had slammed me up against the kitchen cabinets. He pushed the back of my neck into one of the knobs on the cabinet door until I cried out in pain. He told me it was for my own good as he was just trying to help me understand the price for my laziness and that I should not settle for anything less than perfection.

As I heard the door open from the garage, I quickly scanned everything to ensure nothing was a miss. I did not want a repeat of the other night. I turned to face him, his cold blue eyes raked over my appearance as a sneer spread across his face. He made me feel like a piece of meat. I was his trophy wife, there to be displayed and made up to his specifications.

"Marie." His tone was indifferent as he barely acknowledging me as his wife.

"James," I returned hit greeting with a fake smile, hoping it still fooled him.

"What's on the menu today?" He put his briefcase on the floor and slid his keys on the little table by the door.

"I've prepared beef medallions with a mushroom sauce, steamed asparagus and roasted baby red potatoes. And for dessert, we will be having an apple pear torte with an amaretto cream sauce," I answered smoothly without batting an eyelash praying he would not find anything out of place.

He smiled menacingly as he walked up to me and placed his hand on the back of my neck and slowly leaned down to give me a kiss on the mouth. As he did, he tightened his grip on my neck and pressed his thumb into the bruise he had given me. He kept watching for my reaction to the pain he was causing me, but I refused to wince. I knew if I reacted, he would enjoy it too much adding fuel his desire to cause me more pain. Finally, he pressed his lips into mine. Usually he just gave me a quick kiss and I didn't have to react to it much. However, tonight his kiss lasted longer, which of course meant I had to kiss him back. I complied, opening my mouth to him so he could get what he wanted and we could continue with our evening.

As usual, James asked for a recounting of my day. I told him about cleaning the house, stopping off at the grocery store, picking up the dry cleaning, going to the library, and getting dinner ready. He asked about the book I check out from the library. He nodded his approval of my choice. Then he asked for all the receipts from the day's activities. Like an obedient child, I had the items ready and handed them to him. He had me trained well, and like Pavlov's dog, I complied without question.

After dinner, I cleared the dishes and cleaned up all evidence of our meal. As I stepped out into the living room, I suddenly heard the song that had become, for me, the most hated song I had ever known – "Dream of the Witches' Sabbath" from the Fifth Movement of "Symphonie Fantastique" by Hector Berlioz. I fought down the shudder that threatened to overtake my body as I felt his arms snake around my waist from behind me. I couldn't help but wonder why James was interested in my body tonight. This was not one of his 'usual' nights. James was very rigid in his schedule and did not deviate from it very often. However, I was too disgusted at the 'chore' that lay a head of me tonight to press the issue. I knew to leave well enough alone as James attacked my neck with rough kisses dragging me upstairs towards our bedroom.

A/N: For those of you who are wondering – this IS a Bella and Edward story. Do not worry – she does NOT stay with James for too long. So please stick with me! ;)

Right now I am planning on writing the majority of this story from Marie/Bella's POV. If I change POV's I will say so, otherwise assume Marie/Bella POV.

I currently have this rated T and I will try to keep it that way. If I have to move the rating up to M it will most likely be due to violence and adult themes. I hope that I will not have to change, but I will give warning if I do. Please let me know if you think I need to change the rating. :) - SavageWoman