Break and Enter (Full Story)

He looked all around him making sure there were no prying eyes to witness his plans that night. Once he felt relatively safe, he backed up to the other side of the road, checked one time more, and ran across the street as fast as he could, slowing slightly last second only to lift his foot and kick the door off it's hinges.1

The wood cracked and split -deafeningly it seemed- and permitted passage to the interior. He leaned to the ground and picked up the door, leaning it back into the frame to somewhat resemble how it had previously stood. Then he sat in a nearby armchair and waited silently. The wait wasn't long.2

“What the hell…” a voice cursed from somewhere beyond the jet-black surroundings he waited in. A few stumbling noises from somewhere else in the house, echoing as loudly as things can only during the dead of night. After several minutes of fumbling noises, a light pierced the room.3

He pulled his gun out and aimed it at the young woman before she had even turned around.4

--------------------------5

The first thing she noticed about him once she turned around wasn't the gun, but his eyes. There was a sort of animalistic look in them, wild, untamed. A look she herself had grown very familiar with. She didn't even scream when she saw the gun; it was somewhat expected. A stranger doesn't exactly break into one's house with no means of defense.6

He sat there studying her for several minutes before he finally got up. The first of many words to come were exchanged between the two.7

Sit down,” he ordered. She did as he asked her, not taking her clear eyes off of his manic ones.8

“What all do you have here? Don't lie,” he asked in the same tone he used most nights.9

“Why don't you go through the house and see? Everything is where it is, and I don't have a storage or a hidden room in the house. Take your time,” she answered indifferently, daring to continue looking him straight in the eye. He held the stare for a couple of seconds before turning around and walking through the room they were in slowly, opening drawers and looking through random piles of magazines and mail. He took nothing.10

Her tone of voice bothered him. He wasn't used to such straightforward answers, much less with the apathy that she had said it with. It wasn't often his victims even tried to act brave; the majority of them broke down crying and begged him not to hurt them. He had also never been looked at straight on, much less in the eye.11

A little bit of this and that was in the room, but it was so hard to concentrate on it. Her words, simple as they were, kept playing in his head. Much more disturbing to him was the absolute silence left in his wake. He wasn't used to this kind of silence until after he had killed them. She wasn't sobbing, hyperventilating, begging for mercy, anything. It was too casual for him.12

“You missed the third drawer on that desk,” she suddenly informed him. “There's a little bit of jewelry in there; diamonds in fact.”13

He turned and stared at her for several seconds, giving her his most malicious glare. She didn't even shrink away. He turned quickly back to the desk and strode over to it swiftly, hoping his inner shudder didn't break to the surface. This was all so wrong...14

When he opened the drawer, he found that he had indeed missed diamond jewelry. There were at least four good-sized rings and several bracelets and necklaces. He took them out of the drawer one by one, looking carefully at them. Then he turned and looked at his hostage. Her distressingly calm expression terrified him. This was getting to be too much.15

--------------------------16

He put the jewelry on top of the dresser and moved on. For whatever reason, she could sense that he was deeply bothered. He didn't seem to be the kind of person that just acted on impulse. She could almost feel his thoughts chasing one another about the room, almost hear him mentally arguing with himself. Of one thing she was absolutely positive: she was scaring him.17

It wasn't an entirely new thing to her to have a man scared of her, but it was a bit new that the man was wielding a gun and in complete control. He continued to pace around the room, not taking anything but feigning interest in the many pieces of nothing her home contained.18

She leaned back in the chair he had her stationed at and wondered how long this was going to take. He didn't even appear to be doing anything in particular anymore. She was getting amused.19

--------------------------20

He was getting irritated. Usually it was so simple; in and out, leaving a wake of destruction behind him. He never took more than twenty minutes on any given charge; yet here he was, not having accomplished anything whatsoever in fifteen minutes. Something was wrong about this job, but he didn't know what.21

“Is there a silent alarm system in this house?” he asked suddenly, the silence grown to an unbearable stage.22

“I've never heard of such a thing,” she replied in the same tone she had used earlier. It sent chills up his spine once more. “But even if I had, I doubt I would care enough to have one put in.”23

“And why is that?” he asked, turning around to look at her in full. She looked up at him, a slight smile adorning her lips. He had stopped pacing and now stood towering over her, but for all the reaction he was getting she might as well have been still asleep, maybe even pleasantly dreaming.24

“Because life is so much more interesting without all this caution that most people go crazy over,” she replied. He was left silent and stunned. She got up from her seat and he made no move to stop her.25

“It's looks like I'm going to be up for awhile now. Are you thirsty? I can have us some coffee here in about ten minutes,” she offered, walking toward a separate room.26

“I guess so,” he answered. This was turning out bad. Very bad.27

--------------------------28

She couldn't believe he had actually accepted her offer. As she poured the water into her machine and pressed all the appropriate buttons, her mind was in a whir. A lot was happening tonight in such a short time. What really stuck in her mind (as she walked around the kitchen grabbing such various items as cups, spoons, sugar, ect.) was the look on his face as he paced her small dwelling. She could tell by how he acted at first that he had experience in this field, but as time went by he seemed to grow unsure of himself. Why she always had this effect on men, she had no clue. But if he were like any of the others that were usually intimidated by her, she knew how this would turn out: not good.29

--------------------------30

It never occurred to him that she might be doing anything aside from making coffee until three seconds before he went to check, so he wasn't sure why he was so shocked that she actually was. He leaned into the side of the doorframe and watched her fluttering around the kitchen, getting coffee things ready. A small smile crossed his lips as she sat down and started strumming her blood-red fingernails against the fake wood of her kitchen table.31

“I'm kind of hungry too, if you don't mind me going through your fridge,” he announced. She jumped at the sound of his voice; she obviously hadn't been expecting him to come in. As she reacted, she knocked over a bottle of creamer. The pallid liquid flowed over the floor. She jumped up immediately, saving at least a third of the bottle.32

“Sorry, didn't mean to scare you,” he said, a tiny chuckle accompanying his words. He walked to a nearby counter and picked up a roll of paper towels she had.33

“Mind if I give you a hand?" he asked. She shook her head. 34

He wasn't sure why his mood should have lightened so much so quickly, but he didn't really mind as he knelt on the floor helping a complete stranger who should be his victim to clean up the mess.35

“Thanks,” she said.36

“No problem,” he replied.37

------------------------------38

She was the one disturbed now. 39

He had gone from a maniac, an animal, a person who didn't know what they were doing in this portion of the world, to a well-behaved man with manners. All she had done was offer to make coffee.40

“Feel free to eat anything you like,” she said suddenly, finally answering his request of at least ten minutes ago. “I'll make it if it needs preparation.”41

“No, that's okay. It's been awhile since I've cooked anything for myself anyway. Do you want anything?”42

She wished she could say no, but she was indeed starving. And intrigued. She wondered if he could actually cook.43

“Yeah, I'll just have whatever you decide to make,” she informed him as he strode to her fridge. She sipped her coffee and watched him gathering ingredients.44

“So, are you expecting anyone home anytime?” he asked as he chopped an onion.45

“No,” she answered. “I live alone.”46

“No kids? No boyfriend or husband? You don't live with parents or a friend?” he pried.47

“No,” she repeated. “Just me.”48

“That must get lonely.”49

“Not really. I like it better than having anyone around, to tell you the truth,” she told him, her voice changing to reveal emotion for the first time that night. Now we're getting somewhere, he thought to himself. Before he could respond to her, though, she was turning the tables on him.50

“Do you live with people? Like, are you married or dating or a father or anything?” He sautéed vegetables in a small pan for a short period before finally answering.51

“No. I come with no strings attached.” His voice too was cold, as hers had been. He asked her another question immediately, partially to change the subject, partially to keep the conversation going.52

“What do you do for a living?”53

“I'm….well, I'm a con artist,” she confessed. He turned around, ignoring the task at hand, the strangest expression on his face. She inspected her fingernails as if to find some sort of imperfection in the polish, though none were to be found and she knew it.54

“Wait a minute, what? ” he exclaimed. A tiny embarrassed smile crawled onto her face as she looked over at the stove.55

“I am, and you're about to burn our food,” she informed him. He turned back around quickly, stirring the vegetables around.56

“You're still not getting off the hook about this con artist thing,” he told her as he pre-heated the oven.57

“It's true- what else is there to say? I marry wealthy men and play the cards for all they're worth. It wasn't like they couldn't go back to work and rebuild their empire and their lives,” she defended herself .”Besides, they weren't exactly the best of men. They deserved what they got.”58

“How many times were you married?” he asked.59

“Nine.”60

“Nice,” he said as he put two large pieces of chicken in a pan.61

“I'm not exactly proud of it, but we do what we have to in order to survive. What exactly do you do for a living, if even I have to ask,” she asked him.62

“This,” he replied.63

“What, cook?”64

“No, thievery and murder. This is actually the first time I've ever made dinner for my victim.”65

She looked up at him, catching his eye for the second time that night. They stared directly into each other's eyes for several seconds before she finally spoke.66

“Are you going to kill me?” she asked in a calm voice. No fear or expression whatsoever showed on her face. He couldn't tell if she even wanted him to or not.67

“I haven't decided yet,” he answered quietly, tearing away from her eyes. He felt slightly sick thinking of it. He had never put himself in this kind of position before, knowing his victim before he killed them. He certainly didn't want to shoot the woman.68

---------------------------------69

She sat at the table, finished with her coffee, and thought about him. 70

Not about what he was doing in her house or the danger he posed, but just him. The way he talked, the skill with which he cooked, how he had answered her question. He was so intriguing. She hadn't meant to make him uncomfortable with the question, but she had no clue where the night was headed. She didn't really mind if he killed her. She knew he would have the decency to make it very quick and as painless as possible. Besides, if he did, they wouldn't get to. That meant more to her than anything at this point.71

She got up to walk across the room for more coffee, but he stopped her and poured it instead.72

“You're too polite to be a killer,” she replied as he scooped in sugar for her.73

“And you're too attractive to be a con artist,” he retorted. She could feel her cheeks growing deep red as his comment sunk in. He looked over at her and laughed as she tried to hide her face. He went back to cooking and she went back to sipping her coffee and thinking about him.74

“Do you have any olive oil?” he asked her, rummaging through cabinets. “Wait- found it. Goodness, this thing is almost completely full! Do you not use olive oil or something?” he asked her, peering into the bottle.75

“I'm not exactly home for dinner very often. I don't marry all the men I con. I usually just date them for awhile.”76

“I see,” he said, pouring olive oil into a small bowl. “Well, when you are home I suggest you use it. You'll see why here in a minute.”77

Fifteen minutes later the meal was done. He had made some exquisite quesadillas. They tasted truly authentic. She looked up at him as they ate together. He was quite interesting. Quite interesting indeed.78

--------------------------79

He sat back and watched her eat, done much quicker than her. He found himself burning with curiosity. What was she thinking? Was she scared of him? He no longer wanted her to be afraid of him. Unlike the others.80

Fear was what motivated him, what he fed off of. It empowered him, made him stronger. But she had taken that power away from him when she refused to be a victim. At first, that bothered him. Now the fact that it didn't bother him bothered him.81

“Do you like it?” he asked her. She was going at her food as if she had just previously been starving in the woods. She nodded in between bites a couple times and then continued. He felt himself smiling.82

“It's that olive oil. I told you it's good stuff.” She laughed.83

“Well, Mr. Chef, I can do the dishes. It's only fair,” she offered. He didn't object. He sat at her table as she got up to do the deed, and thought about his current predicament. It was still wrong, but it was going extremely well at being wrong; he wasn't sure if he would have enjoyed himself half as much if it had been right.84

She looked so calm, he thought. So happy. He wondered if she even feared death; she was standing right across from it, her hands sudsy and her face concentrated on the task ahead. She hadn't even shown interest in the detrimental side of his being there until she had asked if he was going to do what he had broke in to do. Problem with her asking that, was he didn't know. And the more he thought about it, the less he knew.85

It was already obvious to himself that he wasn't going to kill the girl. He couldn't bring himself to do it. But what happened next? Was he going to just up and leave? Take anything with him? And how much could he actually trust this mysterious woman who had him cooking and sipping coffee at three in the morning? Chances are she called the cops as soon as the door closed. Well, it couldn't really close, but, that's beside the point.86

“Do you want me to fix your door?” he offered out of the blue.87

“Fix it?” she questioned. “Why?”88

“Because I kicked it to oblivion,” he admitted.89

“We'll see what you can make of it, then,” she chuckled.90

--------------------------91

He got up as soon as she had given him permission and walked back into the front room. She hoped silently that he wasn't going to leave. The sound of more digging through her living room showed that he wasn't.92

“Where are your tools?” he called over.93

“In the hall closet,” she hollered back.94

“Thanks.”95

He confused her so much. Thieving murderers don't thank someone for telling them where to find tools to fix the door they kicked down in the first place. They didn't make dinner, they didn't tell their to-be victim that they were attractive, and they definitely didn't sip coffee and chat casually about their life with them. So maybe, for tonight he wasn't a thieving murderer. But if not, then what was he?96

She joined him in the living room when she had put away the last towel-dried dish to find him nailing the split wood back to the door. 97

He really had done quite a number on it; the hinges were still attached to several slabs of wood that had been separated from the main door part. Then again, it had sounded like something exploded. Noises were always three times louder during the pitch-black night.98

“Need any help?” she offered.99

“No, I'm actually just about done,” he declined. He was right; he had been working at a very fast pace. She sat on her couch and observed him finish mending the door. He seemed so sure of himself, so patient. And for the first time that night, she realized he wasn't that bad looking. His earlier-manic eyes were now quite pleasant, and a daring shade of brown. His hair was black, and he had quite a bit of muscle tone and tan.100

Poor door …she thought. It must have taken quite a beating from this creature in front of her. She could no longer view him as a danger and not feel all tingly when the word popped into her mind.101

Dangerous men were so…..fascinating.102

As soon as the door was back in prime condition (or as prime as it was going to get), he plopped down next to her. She wore the curious expression that she had donned the night through.103

“So, how many times have you done this?” she asked him as he observed the door from afar.104

“I never kept count, but enough to maintain a decent lifestyle,” he answered. “How many people have you conned?”105

She stayed silent for a few seconds, and he started to think she wasn't going to answer his question. He looked at her for a few seconds, and she looked back. Eventually, a very quiet reply came.106

“A few too many.”107

Her face too turned away from his as she revealed this. He continued, however, to observe her as she chewed her lip and stared at the carpet. She looked so dignified, yet so shameful. He reached over and lifted her chin until their eyes were level. He could tell immediately, and the words formed themselves almost without his permission.108

“You want out of this just as badly as I do, don't you?”109

Her dusky eyes stared directly into his fervently for a couple of seconds.110

“More than you could ever imagine.”111

--------------------------112

The two looked at each other silently, both attempting to find an unknown something in each other's gaze. He remembered her cheek on his hand and had the maddening desire to feel it again.113

She wasn't bad looking, he had to admit. Not bad looking at all. It didn't surprise him when he thought about it; if she weren't attractive, the conning business wouldn't work out for her as well as it seemingly had.114

He had struck a nerve with her, but she wasn't fully sure how or why. Sharing her feelings with men was an unknown territory that she close to never ventured to, but around him she simply couldn't stop herself. It still felt wrong in a sense; she was afraid she may get attached as she had before. But he was different, she told herself.115

Of course she knew that he wasn't.116

He was familiar to her in the way that a new con was. She found herself unconsciously going through her usual mental routine with him too, though she would never, ever do anything like it to this man. He was too...she really didn't know what. But whatever it was, he was definitely too much for her to rob emotionally. The very thought filled her with shame.117

The truth was, conning to her was so much different than a typical con job. Her weapon, which she wielded with perfect precision, was love. Unashamed, unabashed, senseless love that could -and often did- drive a man insane. They always fell for her as if she were a snake charmer and they were the snake. But they weren't snakes, at least not at first. She created the monsters.118

No, although she had told him otherwise, the men she married and dated, though rich or else very well off, were all wonderful. Once she was done with them, they were left tormented, angry shells of the great men echoed into the silence of their wake. And angry rich men have extraordinary power, beyond what she ever would have thought.119

“What are you thinking about?” he asked her gently, breaking her thoughts. She looked at him; there was unmistakable concern in his eyes. She wasn't shocked.120

Apparently, her eyes answered his question because he didn't push it when his only response was silence.121

“Okay then, now what?” she asked him, attempting to lighten the heavy mood. It worked quite well.122

“I don't know, what do you want to do?” he asked her playfully, leaning back into the arm of her couch in a truly sexy position. She had to bite her lip to prevent the vulgar truth from spilling all over it.123

“Twister?” she suggested, a slightly seductive smile curling itself onto her lips.124

“Sure. I assume you have the game?” he assumed nonchalantly. An amused smile danced across her face.125

“No, actually. I was thinking of a quite different version...we still get pretty tangled up though.” His eyebrows raised and a thin smile that matched hers spread quickly. He even laughed and shook his head gently.126

“You're pretty straightforward. Sure, we'll play Twister,” he accepted.127

“Follow me,” she commanded, getting up from the couch. He complied and followed her down a narrow hallway filled with various pictures that he glanced momentarily at. They were all different but had the same element: her. She was with men, all different ones. He didn't know how many were there, only knew each of them was arm in arm (or some other form of pose) with the girl he was now hand-in-hand with walking down her hallway of...he didn't really know how she regarded it.128

She had, no surprise, led him to a back room that held more pictures, though there were no men in this one, only her. He could barely glance at the pictures before he glanced around, standing embarrassedly in what appeared to be -and was- her bedroom.129

“How many men do you typically bring back here?” he asked her playfully, looking around the room. It had been decorated nicely as if done by a professional and had an abstract red-white-and-black theme to it. He truly liked it; it was both comfortable and impersonal.130

“None actually…….this place is special. Very few guys have even come down to my place in the first place. I have a spare bedroom that's used for that purpose. This is where I sleep,” she explained. He looked around and could see why she would rather not share this portion of the house with her cons. It seemed too personal. Besides, the countless pictures of other men would be very hard to explain.131

“So….shall we?” She asked, pulling a remote out of her pocket. He looked at it, curiosity setting in as much as that wicked other feeling. She aimed it at a small television set and pressed a button that illuminated the screen with light.132

“Dinner and a movie,” she stated. He laughed.133

“So, does that mean...” he began.134

“It's a date,” she confirmed.135

---------------------------------------------136

The movie was incredible. They watched Twister, and as she had promised, by the ending they were very tangled up. She lay in his arms as the credits rolled up, eyes closed and humming along with the song playing on the screen.137

“Good movie?” he asked.138

“Incredible,” she sighed in response. He smiled at her, running his fingers through her impossibly soft hair.139

“Incredible,” he echoed. They lay there watching all the famous and not-quite-so-famous names scroll slowly up the screen as the music changes, skin pressed against skin. Once it was all over, she reached down on the floor for her pants. He pulled her back gently, sliding a loosened sheet around her.140

“Not just yet,” he begged. She complied.141

“So, what do you think happens from here?” he asked her after a comfortable period of nude silence passed by.142

“I really don't know, but I hope it isn't what I'm expecting,” she answered. He sat up and looked at her gently, telepathically communicating that he needed an explanation.143

“Angry rich men,” she began slowly “have extraordinary powers, powers that are very hard to avoid, especially when they want you dead.” His eyes darkened at the revelation of this news. It surprised and even frightened her slightly; she really didn't know why. In fact, it downright confused her, she had been with him all night -even when he was set and determined to rob and kill her- and he had not once scared her in the way he currently was. His anger wasn't even aimed at her.144

“It's okay though,” she coaxed gently. He agreed but still didn't look any more appeased.145

“What's next with you?” she asked, only slightly to take the focus off the topic.146

“I really don't know. Anything could happen from this point on,” he answered truthfully. Several moments of silence passed as the truth and weight of his statement hit them.147

“I wonder what time it is?” she thought aloud and glanced over toward a small digital clock settled on a black and white nightstand. It was almost six in the morning.148

“The sun should be coming up soon,” she informed him. “Want to go watch it?”149

“Yes… yes I would like that very much,” he answered her. They got up and wrapped the sheet around both of them, not bothering with clothes.150

-----------------------------------151

The sunrise was truly a spectacle. Gold, red, and purple tones painted the sky more beautifully than the most artistically created painting. She snuggled closer to him and he tightened his arm around her. There was nothing but a thin sheet keeping their skin from touching as they sat outside on her back porch, cool morning air reaching their bare skin even through the gentle barrier.152

“So,” she said, her voice having a dreamlike quality to it. “When's the last time you watched the sunrise? I used to back when I was a little girl. I haven't seen anything this beautiful since.”153

“I couldn't honestly tell you if I've ever seen the sunrise,” he admitted, his voice too holding a mystical eminence. “But I can certainly say that I've never appreciated it this much.”154

She kissed him then, and it wasn't in lust or passion. It was as gentle as her voice and as beautiful as the sunrise. He ran his fingers lightly through her tangled hair and kissed her back, holding back nothing. A shiver traveled up her spine and she reached her arms around him, the little bit of sheet between them giving way. He pulled it back, but only covered her from waist to thighs.155

The kiss satisfied her as no other kiss had from any other man. He clearly felt the same way, though his sensual escapades were much more lessened. They lay side by side, pressed mostly together completely naked, and gazed into each other's eyes, the sunrise reaching a crescendo in their peripheral visions.156

“I won't let anyone hurt you,” he promised in a whisper.157

“And why is that, exactly?” she asked in an equally soft voice. He didn't answer. There was no need. Instead he planted a sweet and possessive kiss on her forehead. 158

They went inside once the earth was too well lit for their naked comfort and dressed. The gun that he had brought in a the beginning of the night was lying uselessly on the kitchen table, long abandoned. He picked it up and unloaded it, handing her the weapon itself.159

“Are you leaving now?” she asked, unmistakable sadness in her eyes and voice.160

'Yes,” he answered heavily, and walked from the kitchen. Her jaw dropped gently and a knot formed in her throat. He was leaving? After all of that, he just leaves?161

But he didn't. He returned to the kitchen clutching something tightly. Whatever it was, it was invisible to her the way he was holding it.162

“But I don't want to go alone. If you really want out of this...I can help. Please...” he stopped.163

“What are you trying to say?” she asked, her heart jolting as if zapped by electricity.164

“I want you,” he began, walking over to the table and letting the contents of his hand spill onto it. “To marry me.”165

The diamond rings glittered as always they had, but it was no longer foreboding to her. She was shrieking yes before she had even considered how to answer, and the rings continued to sparkle.166

They would pawn whatever was valuable enough in the house and use whatever money they had to get away, far away. She rushed to her room with him alongside her and packed a gym bag with clothes and valuables. He took it for her and she left the house for the last time.167

They set out walking, but not for long. He had a car -a very nice car- waiting for him just around the corner.168

“My getaway car,” he explained apologetically. Tears formed gently in her eyes as she put the bag in his trunk and climbed into the passenger side. She was truly getting away, she knew it. And even more than that...she finally found what none of her con jobs could ever give her.169

They stopped along the side of the road after a few miles and climbed out to throw the gun and diamond rings into a large lake, turning around immediately and walking back to the getaway car. Right before they got back in, however, he stopped her.170

"I just have one quick question," he said.171

"Yes?"172

"What's your name?" he asked, and the two laughed until they cried, climbed back into the car and drove east, toward their new beginnings.