Pain and Possession

The cops who came to interview in the hospital told her repeatedly that she was lucky he hadn’t killed her. She said nothing to their statement, she already knew that luck had nothing to do with the fact that Riddick had spared her. It had everything to do with the child nestled to her side with his thumb in his mouth holding tightly onto her shirt sleeve.

She had two fractured ribs and a mass of bruises. Against the advice of her doctor she checked herself out of the hospital and carried her child home. For three entire weeks she pretended not to notice the police officers who patrolled her yard. They said it was protection in case he came back, but she knew he wouldn’t come back. At least not right then.

The detective in charge, she knew for a fact, hoped Riddick would come back though. Caron got the impression from him that he would sell his own soul to capture Riddick. The reward for his capture was twice as much as it had been before and it brought out the worse in some people. The detective’s greed was going to send him down the wrong path, a path he would never be able to forsake if he didn’t stop now. It was a path that led to certain death.

The media made a national event of what had happened, like it did the last time he been caught. Her face had been and was now plastered all over newspapers and she was once again subjected to public scrutiny.

Caron kept calm throughout it all; never letting the torment she was feeling show. trietried to keep her routine as normal as she could for her child’s sake.

“Rick” she called him to her side softly as she pulled the curtains from the nosey stares of the reporters who had been gathered for weeks outside her house wanting to talk to her, wanting an exclusive on her ordeal.

He had exhibited no sign of fear or alarm at the people who were camping outside her house. All he displayed was a typical toddler’s curiosity of what was going on around him and a bit of confusion at the all the people he knew didn’t belong there. She wished they would all just leave her in peace to get on with her life, or what was left of it.

Caron didn’t get the peace she longed for until a month later when Riddick killed again this time in another country. The reporters who had camped on her lawn packed up and left her in a morbid chase to see who would get the exclusive on Riddick’s unlucky victim first. Caron smiled slightly as she watched the news later that night, she knew right away it wasn’t Riddick who killed that man. It was reported the victim was killed by a single gunshot wound through the eye. Riddick would never use a gun, he hated them.

She remembered the one time she’d suggested he buy a gun for protection since they were living alone in the middle of no where. The disdain he had treated the suggestion with almost made her smile to remember. He reacted as if she’d suggested he wear dresses instead of pants and had told her bluntly that he despised guns and wouldn’t use one unless it was to save his life and even then he would think twice.

Things had been so wonderful then she recalled nostalgically, she thought he was working for the government, doing some sort of consultant work and when he was gone she kept house and anxiously awaited his return. It had seemed too good to be true and it the end had been proven.

Blinking her eyes she came aback to the present and set her mind to more practical matters, like the article she was supposed to have been finished writing for the magazine she worked for. After Riddick had been sent away she was on her own again and had a child to support so she had to get a job. She fell back on the only thing she knew how to do well. Writing.

Caron loved her job as it allowed her to set her own hours and spend as much time as possible with her son. Her dark eyed, solemn whn who at two resembled his father so much it frightened her sometimes.

He displayed many of Riddick personality traits, and she noticed them all. He was unlike most two year olds, he wasn’t particularly rambunctious and he seemed to fear nothing. He would spend hours by her side silently, doing his own thing as she worked.

Caron had thought maybe it was the isolation from others that made him withdrawn but when she enrolled him in a day care she had to pull him out a few weeks later for his aggressive behavior towards others.

His teacher claimed that he was antisocial and preferred being alone. She had worried that maybe he needed mental help but the doctor she took him to said he was fine and that hopefully he would grow out of it. Caron knew differently, he would never grow out of it; he would grow into his father. She didn’t care, she loved her son fiercely.

A few days later the detective in charge, knocked on her door and without bothering to look out the window Caron opened the door. She knew it would be all right to, the cops who still patrolled wouldn’t have allowed anyone they considered a threat as far as her door.

He walked in without waiting on an invitation and her hackles immediately rose. She watched silently as he made his way over to the couch and sat, giving her a look she interpreted to mean, why aren’t you over here yet.

Gritting her teeth against the angry words that festered inside her she joined him stiffly.

“Ms Polk, I’m detective Masters” he began and Caron cut him off coldly.

“I know who you are already so how about we start with what I don’t know…like what you want?” something about him made her skin feel clammy. He reminded her of a snake hidden in the grass. Dangerous.

His lips spread into what was a smarmy smile but his eyes hardened like agates, “Very well” he said, “Since we’re speaking bluntly…I want your lover.”

“I have no lover that I am aware of” she told him quietly, wishing he would just leave. She could think of no reason for him to be here. She’d already told them every detail of her ordeal.

“Come on now Ms Polk” he said, “You yourself told us that you had sex before he broke your ribs”

“Fractured” she corrected, “Not broken, and we didn’t have sex, he raped me.”

A look of extreme annoyance crossed his features and with an effort he tempered it. “Look I think you fail to understand the gravity of this situation. A cold blooded murderer is on the lose and you may be the only person who can help us hunt him down”

“I understand moren yon you can ever hope to imagine” she told him and watched as his eyes narrowed. ‘I told you everything that I thought would help. I don’t know what else you want from me”

“I want his whereabouts”

“I don’t know them” she said brusquely and then glanced at her watched hinting broadly.

“Am I keeping you from something?” he asked in a tight voice.

“Yes, as a matter of fact you are. You’re keeping me from my son” she stood and began to walk away from him saying over her shoulder, “You know how to let yourself out”

“That’s his kid isn’t it?” he asked suddenly and Caron froze. “I didn’t notice the resemblance before but it’s uncanny…” he got up and stood behind her.

“What if he is?” she was suddenly afraid. Although he hadn’t said anything out of the way or threatening, Caron could hear something sinister in his tone.

“That’s why he didn’t kill you” he figured out loud, “You had his brat and that was what saved your life.”

Caron whirled around and with a shaking finger pointed in his face she seethed, “My child is not and never will be anyone’s brat. Now get the hell out of my house before I kick you out”

Instead of being alarmed at her threat he merely smiled and grasped her finger, squeezing it tightly. In a low whisper that was cold and deadly he told her, “I will find Richard .B. Riddick and I will bring him in no matter what. If you do not help me then I will not be responsible for using whatever methods I can. Riddick is a fucking animal and I will bring him down and I’ll use whatever bait I have”

She was taken back in time to another law enforcer who threatened her the same way in a bid to get Riddick. That had been the moment her life was destroyed. She had worked too hard rebuilding it to let someone else come and take it away from her again.

“Stay the fuck away from me and my son. If you don’t, what Riddick will do to you when he catches you will be child’s play to what I’ll do. Don’t come around here again.” She yanked her finger out of his grip and stalked angrily in her room, slamming her door.

It wasn’t until she heard the front door slam that she finally let her fear over take her. He was dangerous man; she would have to be careful around him. That night she slept with her son.