Seattle Nights

Disclaimer: I do not own the Twilight series, all I own is the plot and a few original characters.

Warning: This story will contain foul language, violence, and smut— not in every chapter, but it will definitely come up eventually. Mature audiences only, hence the rated M. You've been warned, so don't go flaming me if you read something you don't like! … Silly flamers. Haha, enjoy!

Adopted from PuzzlingApprentice by katandjasper!

Original plot belongs to PuzzlingApprentice but is being changed by katandjasper as she sees fit.

Prologue (written by PuzzlingApprentice – original author.)

We interrupt this program to bring you breaking news:

Terrifying the city of Seattle, Washington, a serial killer seems to be on the loose. The sixth killing in the short span of thirty days leaves citizens wondering what may be to come. The only warning— the most important warning— we can give is not to go out alone. There is nothing connecting the victims but the murder itself. The victims range in age, gender, and social status. You must be more vigilant than ever. Keep your cell phone charged and pepper spray on you at all times. You must be even more cautious than usual until this monster is caught.

Angela Novazcek, Ryan Oswald, Lila Montgomery, Isaac Walsh, Allen Smith, and now Dianna Atkins have suffered this tragedy and their families are left with nothing but to mourn their deaths.

No witnesses have yet to come forward and so there is no sketch that we can show of this murderer. However, we must stress not to go out alone at night under any circumstances. The police are working hard to put together the evidence in order to bring this monster to justice. Unfortunately, any forensic evidence has been burned away in the fire leaving law enforcement stumped.

However, we are not giving up hope. He is bound to slip up and as we speak, new security cameras are being installed for your safety.

Do not forget; do not go outside at night— especially alone, charge your cell phone, stock up on pepper spray, and lock your doors. Never let anyone in to you home who you do not trust with your life.

If you have any information on this case or who the criminal is, please call in to the anonymous tip line. You will not be revealed to the public and you may be saving the lives of many. The number is….

Chapter One (written by PuzzlingApprentice – original author.)

Upon returning home from the office, I walked in to my small apartment and placed most of my belongings on the nearby counter top in my kitchen. While pulling out all of the necessary ingredients I would need in order to make a decent meal, I checked my cell and saw that I had a message from Jayson.

Hey babe. Haven't talked to you in a while, I miss you. Want to get together for a movie at my apartment tomorrow night?

I rolled my eyes, not in the mood for the dick that Ashlyn had set me up with three weeks ago. One date, and suddenly he has the right to call me 'babe'? I sighed and tossed the technology on the sofa in the living room before returning to the task at hand— dinner. I cracked a few eggs in a pan, quickly whipping up my omelet before I completely collapsed from exhaustion. My work days were long at the office, and while the pay was decent, the job was boring. I still wasn't quite sure what I wanted to do with my life, but had decided to use this as a stepping stone.

Either way, I needed the money. There was no way I was moving back to Forks to live off of Charlie. I had to much pride for that. Not to mention, despite the fact that the gaping wound that used to open in my chest at the mere thought of the Cullens had healed, that didn't mean I wanted to deal with all the memories. Or the judging eyes of the folks who had watched me fall apart when they left and would surely hound me about how I was making it. I looked down and noticed that while my thoughts had been on my former life, my finger tips had made their way to tracing the crescent shaped scar on my forearm; my only true reminder.

Finally heading to the living room, I settled on the couch with my breakfast-dinner. My portion of eggs was probably enough for three; not to mention my two slices of toast and giant glass of orange juice. I shrugged to myself— this was comfort food at its best; that is, when you don't feel up to making fried chicken and mashed potatoes. At last, I steeled myself for turning on the television— knowing what would likely be shown on the screen. Did I really want to see that type of gore while I was trying to enjoy my dinner?

The answer: no. I really didn't. But curiosity killed the cat, and it would likely slaughter my appetite along with it.

I grabbed for the remote and clicked the small button labeled 'on.' I was tempted to cover my eyes as I waited to the outdated television to kick itself on. The image on the screen showed the scene of the newest crime. A dumpster had been set aflame with the newest victim's corpse within its lodgings, exactly the same as the previous murders. Only this one had been but two blocks away from my apartment; this crime scene was on a road that I walked twice a day on my way to and from work.

I shuddered at the thought of just how close this one was. For the first time since Charlie had called me on Monday, I was thankful for his fatherly demand that I return home this weekend; thankful for his overprotective nature. I only had to go to work tomorrow before I could leave and spend Saturday and Sunday away from the nightmare that was brewing in the city that I now called home.

I couldn't help but to stiffen as I contemplated the fact that tomorrow morning I would be walking past a place that a girl had just died.

Dianna Atkins.

The name rattled around my head as a picture of the girl appeared next to the news broadcaster. She looked… for lack of a better word, tired. Her eyes seemed dead despite the fact that there was a smile on her face. Her hair looked dry and her skin looked stiff. The dark circles around her eyes made her appear sickly.

A frown formed on my face. The announcer commented that she was only twenty-seven, only four years older than my twenty-three. But that couldn't be right; this woman had to be in her early forties, at least. An appalling thought occurred to me that perhaps this killer had targeted a woman who really was sick, maybe with cancer or something similarly as aging. The news then flashed back to the crime scene, where the officers were looking intensely at the charred dumpster.

I silently thanked god that Charlie had remained a small town chief of police, because I never would want him anywhere near what was going on here. I was starting to think he was right, big cities were nothing but trouble.

I grumbled slightly to myself, scrubbing a hand down my tired face. Standing up jerkily, I glanced at the clock and saw the ungodly hour. I groaned— it was one in the morning. I had been stopped by my boss on my way out the door; he had been trying to convince me to accept a ride home. I had refused, of course. I loved the fresh air when I was walking home, despite the known danger that had been lurking for weeks. All his interference had insured was my presence on the streets even later at night than usual. My stomach did an uncomfortable flip-flop as I considered the fact that I could have been walking by the alley where Dianna Atkins had been killed at the time of the incident.

That could have been me.

I was shaking slightly as I gathered up my dirty plate and cup, having downed the food while I was engrossed in the news. Balancing the cup on the plate, I used my free hand to turn off the TV before continuing on to the kitchen. Suddenly filled with nervous energy, I dropped the dishes in the sink before practically sprinting to the door. I double checked the lock before adjusting the deadbolt. I spied out the peephole and saw nothing but the empty hallway.

Sighing at my erratic temperament, I walked back to the kitchen and considered just getting a glass of water and going to bed. I took a deep breath as I realized that would never happen. Instead, I quickly hand washed all of my dirty dishes that had accumulated thus far and put them away. Glancing around, I looked for something else to do in order to keep my hands busy. Bouncing on the balls of my feet, I started fidgeting with all the books on my shelves in the living room. When I realized that there was nothing else to straighten up, I internally cursed myself for my tidy nature. Giving in to defeat, I decided to take a shower before doing my best to get some sleep— hoping that maybe the hot water would relax my twitching muscles.

I stripped on my way towards my bedroom, dropping the used clothing in my hamper before grabbing my towel off the edge of my closet door. I would never get used be being able to leave the contents of my bag of toiletries scattered around the bathroom. I had never realized how much I would miss having my own bathroom.

As the hot water and billowing steam surrounded me, I tried to force my muscles to relax one by one— starting with my fingers, then my arms, then my shoulders, and so on. But it was not working. I scrubbed my skin roughly, becoming frustrated at my own skittishness. Eventually, I gave up on the idea of a 'relaxing' shower, because mine seemed to have morphed in to a 'how much skin can Bella scrape off with a loofah before she bleeds' shower. When I finally climbed out, I wondered if I would be condemned to a long sleeved shirt tomorrow or if the red marks would disappear by then.

Annoyed with myself because it was supposed to be sunny tomorrow and I would probably sweat in a long sleeved shirt, I dressed and plopped down in the center of my queen sized bed. I glanced at the clock and groaned; I had five hours until I had to be awake in the morning.

Turning off my bedside light, I glared at my ceiling. I tossed the blankets off my legs and then replaced them, repeating the action over and over because I could not get comfortable. I finally ended up with one leg underneath and one leg hanging out, both arms covering my face. By that time, I had begun cursing everything. Fuck the dishes for needing washing, fuck my skin for needing scrubbing, and fuck the News for attracting my attention. I was going to be miserable tomorrow and the fact that I was practically counting the minutes until I would fall asleep was only winding me up more.

I was so angry because I was freaking myself out over nothing. Whatever was going on here in Seattle was obviously not under my control. If 'whoever it was' was going to make me their next victim, then so be it. There would be nothing I could do about it but kick, scream, and try to claw out a few eyes. I would do my best to try and splatter their blood everywhere so that the fire that would be set couldn't wipe away every last bit of 'forensic evidence' and so that the killer could be caught.

I started to frown in to my arms which were still shielding my eyes. This line of thinking was doing nothing to calm me down. I took a deep breath and pushed it from my lungs before going back to the method that Charlie had taught me when I was little in Forks and could not sleep.

100, 99, 98, 97, 96…

I counted backwards from one hundred slowly, not allowing myself to remain tense and instead going back to relaxing each muscle one by one.

95, 94, 93, 92…

While it may have been a failed attempt in the shower, it proved much more successful when I could relax my legs and back without having to worry about falling down.

91, 90, 89, 88, 87, 86….

Soon enough the eighties were turning to the seventies, then the seventies in to the sixties, until finally, the sixties turned in to darkness. Sleep enveloped me, pulling me in deeply and dragging me in to dreams thankfully clear of burning dumpsters and mysterious murderers.

The morning, however, came quickly. It seemed that as soon as my eyes had closed, they were slamming open to my alarm clock blaring. I glared at the ceiling through red rimmed eyes as one arm managed to make its way over and forcibly silence the annoying sound. My head was throbbing due to lack of sleep as I tried to stand and make my way over to my wardrobe. I stumbled slightly and had to catch myself on the wall; I stayed there for a moment, gaining my bearings before even trying to continue on with my morning.

A large yawn broke the silence of my room, but soon enough I had made my way to the kitchen and had the coffee brewing. When it was finally done, I poured a large mug full and sat with it at the table. I didn't dare water down the precious caffeine with the likes of cream or sugar, knowing that this would be my lifeline throughout the day.

One day. That's all this was. One day and I could finally visit home for the first time in three and a half months. One day and I could finally get a good night's sleep without having to wonder if some masked murderer was going to bust through my door and kill me in my sleep. One day, and I could finally escape this nightmare that was forming around me.

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A/N: Please review! As you can tell I changed nothing but the mistakes I found. I will probably update this story once a week, at least until I have the next chapter written. If you have already read this, and don't want to review I'll understand. I am in the middle of writing my own story, plus being a beta to two other stories. I need to take my time in writing the first chapter of my own as I do want to do this story justice. I just hope that I can write it as well as the original author. Thanks to everyone who has already added this story or myself to their favorites and alerts.