Addicted

Chapter 25

Bella P.O.V

The article didn't have anything other what I already knew -- or what the cops told me --. Mrs. Gonzalez supposedly suffered from multiple personality disorder ever since her eldest son died five years ago. Doctors said the shock and guilt took over her sense of sanity that she began to dress up at night like a total different women and leave her home and not come back until the next morning crying and hysterical. She was taken to a mental institution twice because her husband claimed she almost tried to kill him, twice. Now, their daughter paid the consequences.

I didn't want to let the article convince me that Jessica wasn't killed by the same person who's stalking me. That Mrs. Gonzalez does suffer from multiple personality disorder. That her own mother tied her up with duck tape and killed her. That I'm probably overeating because someone is trying to play with my sanity.

"Bella?"

I immediately close the page and shut the Mac closed. Edward is standing by the door, leaning on the wall with a frowning expression.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"Nothing," I lied. "Nice home screen."

"Were you just looking at the home screen?" He started to walk towards me with all his grace and glory with each step he takes.

"Yeah," I lied, again.

He stands behind me and turns the chair around. He leans over, both hands on each arm rest, his face inches from mine, noses touching, eye contact from piercing green to chocolate brown. "You're a terrible liar," he whispered.

"I'm not," I defend myself, "I convinced myself that I didn't want to have anything to do with you for an entire week after I slept with you."

His hand travels from my upper arm to my chest, down to my ribs.

"No, you didn't," he says, "I know because I know that as I was watching you, you were watching me."

I smiled. "Maybe. You know, someone can really get bored of the same stuff," I joke.

His fingers put pressure on my ribs making me scream and jump off the chair.

"Oh, we found a weak spot," he laughed, sitting over my hips.

"No! Stop!" I laughed. He takes my hands and puts them over my head with one hand while with the other he starts tickling me with no mercy. "No! Please! Edward!" I laughed, hysterically. "Please! I'm going to pee!"

He stops and lets my hands go. He leans in, again, both hands on each side of my head. He slowly rubbed his nose with mine and says, "You'll never get bored of me."

"Oh, why are you so sure?" I asked, laughing.

A cocky grin appears on his beautiful face. He sits up and takes off his shirt over his head, he looks at his glorious torso as if reminding how memorizing he is.

"You can't get bored of this." He points to his gorgeous body.

I laughed. "You're right, I can't." I sit up, resting my upper body weight on my elbows and kiss his soft lips.

"Is my girl hungry?" He asked.

"Yes."

"Well, I want to be a good boyfriend so, let's feed you." He gets off me and pulls me up. His hands grab my thighs and picks me off the floor. I wrap my legs around his waist and lay my head on his shoulder as he walks me the kitchen, holding me like a monkey.

"I like this." I kiss his shoulder. "I can get use to this."

"To what, me carrying you like this?" He asked, placing me on his kitchen table.

"Yup," I said popping the P.

"Well, It's an honor." He kissed me once before heading to the refrigerator and looking what's inside.

I sit back, crossing my legs as he takes out the ingredients to make French Toast.

"What did the guards say?" I ask.

"Well, they'll be outside for twelve hours each day. Two of them, they'll keep an eye on us if we leave the apartment," he said without looking at me.

"So, they will be here for twelve hours? Don't they sleep?"

"They change every two hours. When their shift is over, other two come to take their place and they have twelve hours to rest until it starts again."

"Is it secure?"

He gives me a look, a look that almost says don't doubt me. I probably shouldn't, Edward will never play when it comes to my safety.

"Sorry." I zip my lips.

He takes the remote and turns on the TV. Two cabinet doors open and a 55' inch plasma TV comes out and turns on. A tall, young report for the Pay Attention Seattle broadcast appears on TV. His program it's almost like a radio show, he talks about everything that goes on in Seattle, even the most ridiculous topics.

"You hear that Seattle!" He laughed, almost hysterically. He's making fun if some topic right now.

I pick up a little rubber ball and play around with it. Edward's phone starts to ring so he walks to the living room to talk, probably something with the guards.

"Police officers say there's nothing to fear because they say the poor fourteen year old was murdered by her own mother. What is wrong with these people? This is the second murder of this type in that neighborhood and third in the United States-"

"What?" I look at the TV, shocked.

"Now, for those who don't know," he said, "last year in Chicago, Illinois a young women was brutally murdered. Her boyfriend - only suspected of the murder later found innocent by the way - found her tied up to the bed with duck tape and was shot two times. No one knows who killed her. Six months ago another women who was 21, was also murdered in her home, she was found the same exact way and it's the same neighborhood where now this fourteen year old was found in the same conditions."

Holy Fuck!

"Police said that the 21 year old Irina Denali was robbed and killed but nothing was missing in her home, got robbed but they never took anything? What the fuck? Now, a fourteen year old was murdered by her mother, what are they playing? Can't they see the little clues this maniac is leaving-"

The TV suddenly goes dark. I turn to see Edward walking to the kitchen with a mad expression.

"You shouldn't be seeing that," he said.

"Edward, did you hear-"

"Okay, Bella," he looked at me, "we don't need to fill that little head of yours with a bunch of ghost stories. That guy gets paid to lie to people, to scare them, okay? Jessica was killed by her mother."

"And Irina?"

"That poor women was robbed and killed, there's nothing else to it," he said. "Don't worry about it."

"But-"

"Bella, there's nothing else to it. Babe, please, stop worrying about this, you're with me and I'll keep you safe. That's the only thing you have to worry about, okay? Your own business and your own safety."

There's still something wrong and I think I know where to get the answers.

May 2, 2015

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~Joan0324