Chapter One

"Vanessa?"

The front door swung open and a petite woman stood there shivering in the harsh rain. She hugged her worn raincoat, but it did nothing to shield her from the piercing pain. The stings against her swollen cheek were painful enough, and she didn't need to have two places stinging at the same time. Vanessa could feel the rain traveling down her bare legs and into her beat up sneakers. There was an unpleasant sensation of squishiness between her toes, and it felt like her shoes were filled with mud. Her limp hair partially covered her view of Thomas. An absolute mess she must look like to him. She didn't know if she should turn around or somehow merge into the darkness.

"Vanessa," he gently said from the illuminated doorway, "come in, you're completely soaked." His hand reached out to her shoulder and she felt how firm it was. Vanessa stopped shivering and let him guide her inside the house.

The warm light swept over her, and she could see stairs leading to a second floor and a continuous narrow hall behind. Frames of all sorts filled the spaces of the blank walls. Each had a vivid painting depicting beautiful scenery or abstract nonsense, yet they were all beautiful. One painting at the far end caught her eye. It was simple and plain compared to the others. A lone red apple rolled on its side and was sliced through the middle. Instead of the usual tender white insides, the apple's crimson skin covered it. If she didn't look hard enough, she could've mistaken the painting for two of the small deformed apples she once brought home as a child. Worms were buried deep in its core when her mum cut one open, all wriggly and slimy. Her face was priceless.

Fingers stroked her right cheek and disrupted her thoughts. She refocused her eyes on Thomas who was examining her closely. His gaze traced the bruised patterns formed on her pasty skin. He reached out to the coat and began to unbutton. Vanessa flinched back.

"I... uh... can do it myself," she stammered. He nodded and smiled as he watched her fumbled with her coat.

"I'll get a towel and some ice," Thomas said as he walked up the stairs and pointed to the left at an open archway," you can wait in the living room."

Finally getting the rag off, she hung it on a hook next to some hats. Vanessa glanced down and frowned. She was standing in a puddle, and it was the disgusting gray color made after mopping the floor. It didn't complement the pastel tiles. Kicking them off quickly and setting them on the shoe rack, she stepped onto the wooden floor and examined her feet. Good, only a few cuts, she thought.

Her feet stuck to the floor with every step. Looking at the painting of the apple again, she wondered where the illusion of depth was coming from. Was it the extreme detail of darkness to the shadow? Or the oddly shaped dents in the peel? The golden frame had a label under it titled The Ideal Person. Art was strange.

To her surprise, the living room had frames covering the walls too. Some were sketches in ink or graphite, oil pastel paintings, charcoal, and many other mediums. There was a sculpture that looked like some sort of bird in a corner - it was a bit unsettling. The rain noisily pattered on the drawn window and had no intention of letting up. She sat on the edge of the beige sofa with a large coffee table in front. Trinkets neatly covered a small corner, and she picked up a miniature glass elephant. It had little bubbles that were frozen in place. Her bitten nail traced the grooves of the curled trunk. Vanessa noticed her hand was shaky and immediately put the elephant back.

Thomas walked in carrying a towel and wrapped it around Vanessa's small frame. It was fluffy and she unconsciously snuggled into the material.

"Be right back, the ice is in the kitchen."

She watched his back as he entered the other room. The tight tee stretched on his broad shoulders and the ends of his sweat pants skimmed off the rug. Clattering of cabinet doors and pots echoed in the still air. He came back and sat next to her on the cushion. Handing the ice to Vanessa, he took note of her clothing. She promptly placed the bag to her swollen cheek.

"Thanks," she mumbled. Avoiding his worried face, her green eyes shifted back and forth.

"Nice pajamas."

"Huh?" She blinked. Not exactly what she thought he was going to say.

"Not the perfect outfit for this weather," he eyed her pink polka dot shorts.

"Oh, er, right."

Condensation formed and dripped down her angular jawline. Using his thumb, Thomas wiped it and kept his hand there.

"Why are you here?" he asked bluntly.

"It's Chris..."

"Your boyfriend?"

"Yeah."

He let out a sigh. "Seeing how swollen your cheek is, he must've punched you." His thumb was sliding along her jaw line, forcing her eyes to lock on him.

"Why don't you call the-"

"I can't!" Vanessa blurted out, but soon lowered her gaze. Thomas became silent and listened.

"He was never like this. I dated him for four years and it was only this year he began to take his anger out on me. His mom is going through chemo therapy and- "

"And you think that's a good excuse for him to abuse you?" he cut in. She bit her tongue. He continued, "At this rate, you're going to end up in the hospital. Maybe he'll use something other than his bare fists."

Vanessa's eyes slightly widened in horror. She knew he was right. He brushed back her black hair and slowly twirled a strand.

"I know this isn't my place to say any of that, but I can't bare to see a delicate flower's petals plucked by a brute," he muttered on. She peeked at his face, which was expressionless, but his eyes gleamed.

"Your black hair," he said as he lifted a lock to her neck, "it contrasts with your pure white skin so beautifully. A true work of mother nature."

It was extremely cheesy, but she blushed anyway and gripped the towel tighter. Hoping to alleviate the growing tension, she glanced over at the far wall. "You have a lot of paintings," she pointed out.

"I'm glad you noticed," he chuckled.

"Do you like art?"

"I should hope so, since I painted them."

Vanessa turned to look at Thomas, who had a smirk on his face. "All of them?"

"There are a few I didn't paint; I used other mediums like that charcoal one." He pointed to a rough drawing of a lotus flower. She was in complete disbelief. How did he have this much free time?

"I don't limit myself to just paper," he smiled proudly as he picked up the elephant she was holding earlier, "I also created this." He leaned in closer to her, and she backed off from the sudden closure. His face was an inch away from hers, and his eyes scanned her lips.

"Cute, right?"

Before she could say anything, he put the glass figure in her hand and abruptly got up.

"Want tea?"

"Erm..."

"I'll put the kettle on."

She sat there motionless with the elephant in her hand. There was a high-pitched cry from the kitchen and the stove shut off with a snap. He came back shortly with a tea set and some biscuits.

"Thank you," she said as he poured the hot liquid into the porcelain teacup. They slowly sipped their tea in silence. Vanessa focused on the glass leaf and mentally counted the number of edges it had. She was positive that Thomas was staring at her in the corner of his eye, and she shivered.

"Are you cold?" he asked.

"Not really..." she responded and lost track. She didn't feel like recounting.

"Thinking about heading back?"

She realized she was staring at the leaf for an unhealthy amount of time. "I don't think I can, I ran out as fast as I could."

"Would you like to stay here for the night?" Thomas had a warm smile painted on his face, but Vanessa bit her bottom lip. Her parents were back in the countryside and her friends were out of town for an entire week. Did she really have any other choice? Thunder rumbled behind the closed curtains.

"If it won't trouble you, but..." she began to say, but he jumped up.

"I have a spare mattress in the basement. Can you help me bring it up?"

She motioned her hands towards the couch. "Why can't I just sleep here?"

Thomas raised his eyebrow. "Deny a lady of a comfy bed? Don't think so."

He beckoned her to follow him back into the hallway and she followed. Reaching the end of the hall, he stood by a staircase leading down. Gesturing with his hand and said in his best French accent, "Ladies first."

She peered down in the dark skeptically.

"Oh, here," he said and reached for the light switch. There was a wooden door labeled "Art Supplies." Vanessa noticed three identical red frames leading down the steps.

"I keep a spare bed down there when I'm working on a large project."

"That's quite lazy of you," she commented as she descended down the steps. They creaked beneath her feet as if they were groaning in pain. A heavy waft of chemicals tingled her nose, and she coughed.

"Sorry about that, paint tends to smell a bit strong after a couple of years." It did smell like paint plus a bit of rust. Does he do metalwork too? she wondered.

As they passed the frames, she quickly scanned them and found they were news articles. She expected them to be old vintage clippings, but instead they were recent news and had been reported on the telly frequently. They were about finding mutilated -

Thomas's long arms reached the handle and opened the door. The odor was overpowering of metal and he ushered her down the steps. The dim light made its way into the dark room. Vanessa felt his firm hand grip the back of her neck.

"Don't fall and break your neck now," he whispered in her ear venomously, "it'll create more hassle for me."

She had no time to question what he was doing or saying. Her frightened eyes were ready to pop out in shock and she dug her nails into the towel. What she saw in the room, a glimpse of it, made her want to puke her tea out. Vanessa stumbled back in horror and felt a solid wall pressed against her back.

"How do you like your bed? It was made just for the centerpiece." His breath trickled down the nape of her neck. Before she could turn around, a sharp sting was felt in her collar bone. Vanessa blacked out.

oOo

The car door slammed. Lestrade rushed to the scene with Sally running behind. Constables tried to clear the people away, yelling at the top of their lungs as they taped the perimeter of the park. The pair stopped dead in their tracks both their stomachs churned. She turned her head away with her hand over her mouth.

"Oh God... another one," he breathes out as he stared at the figure in front of him. A glossy pale body of a female was cut clean in half, and the torso was placed in a mini meadow of flowers. The flowers were all white lilies splattered with dark speckles of red. Her cleaned heart was skewered with a thin rod and stuck into the base of her opened neck, and the base of her head was nestled in the hole where her heart used to be. Her arms were raised and the hands created a rigid finger rib-cage for the misplaced heart. The woman's head had wavy jet-black hair that covered half of her face, and tears were painted on her bruised cheek. Dismembered legs were placed side by side, with their feet kicking out, beneath the torso.

"We need the freak," Sally sputtered.

A/N: Feedback and critiques are much appreciated!