"But why? I just don't get it. I tried so hard to understand what I could possibly have done."

She had been babbling for hours by now to the unresponsive scum of a human being, only just now finally slowing to a halt on her tongue's rambling rampage. Had been mumbling to herself about what she couldn't understand and then taking turns between yelling and attempting to understand the boy. Not even a boy, really, much too old, old enough to know right from wrong, indubitably. A sad excuse for a human being, a disgusting waste of flesh.

I'd heard a fair bit about what the girl could not understand, as well as enough of their story. By now my focus had shot far pat that and to wondering things which I, personally, could not comprehend. Such as why she returned here to visit such a person in jail after all he had done to her. Or, rather, attempted to do to he. She was so very foolish indeed.

"Because," a low growl of a word emitted from the shadows opposite the barred door.

I nearly laughed before I remembered myself. That was not the voice I had questioned, interrogated, when he was first taken in. No, some fruitless trick to starve off the girl contemplating before him. What great foolishness, to believe she could be scared off so easily. She was able to sit there on her own, hug her knees before him, with no friend or companion by her side. Except for me, I suppose, though I was more of a standard than an option of hers, not much of a choice; a police officer that she was told to let tag along. It's not as if we're so stupid to leave them alone, and yet he thinks her a coward. I should think it's the reverse.

"Because of what? Liam, you were my best friend. Surely you could see the importance of that to me..." she trailed off, raising her striking blue eyes to stare into the darkness he hid himself in. "Or perhaps not, I don't doubt it, perhaps it was nothing more than nugatory," the light brown curtain sealing her face off from my specific view sifted back at that, flashing a look at me as if I were somehow the enemy, perhaps knew the knowledge she sought but refrained still from sharing.

"Don't say that," this time it was his true voice that came, deathly low and half-disguised as a vicious hiss.

"Say what? That you were nothing more than a liar who cared nothing for my friendship but to use it?" the brunette retaliated, safe from her side of the prison bars.

Why did they always have to instegate? One would think that people knew better than that by now. Where, afterall, has it gotten the world but for a horrid mess in the past?

"No, Dele, don't you ever say that! I know you. I know you. I know that you spend your nights in silence, reading. I know how you're always so kind to that great oaf of a neighbor who claims he's twenty-eight because he was born on February twenty-ninth. Felix, is it? I know how you can't cook anything that doesn't come precooked or in a box, and I recall your allergies. You loathe to sniff sweet smelling flowers because the pollen makes you sneeze, but you love to be outside all the sa--"

"Stop." She did not scream, yet her voice resounded in the cell, causing the frantic gleam to fade from the man--Liam's--newly exposed brown eyes.

He was breathing deeply from his own slight rant, hands shaking at his sides in some mix of fury and want, undoubtedly. Even in his short stay here, this Liam had already made himself known to many. I was no exception, I knew all too well of the redhead's anger, leaving several others left helpless during recreation. The only bit more infamous than his rage was that often he could be caught moaning in his sleep--not of pain but pleasure, coated with murmurings of a description matching the girl just before me.

Speaking of me, I could only say that I had long since looked forward to this girl telling him off, ever since I first heard the full story. This could be considered a dream come true, if only not to such an extreme.

"Stop," she repeated, fury growing in the depths of her eyes, "I don't want to hear it. My name is Adela, not Dele. Only those important to me can call me otherwise, I'm afraid. And never, ever insult Felix around me. I don't care who you are and how important you were or are to me, no one insults that man. No one. He's wonderfully kind and amazing to talk to. Not to mention he saved me from you.

By that point I simply couldn't refrain from letting a wide smile spread across my face at the disgust in her voice. This man was filth, nothing more or less than human wreckage and waste which she was finally coming to realize. At least, however, I could take comfort in the fact that my grin was safely hidden within the murky shadows whilst the other two were much too preoccupied with studying the opposite through contemplative eyes.

"Bullshit," his growl came again, a hitch darker and lower than it had been before, "complete and utter bullshit. You're not the person to decide who means what to me, you're not me. And, I remember, I remember the day we met. You would've let anyone in if they'd done the simplest task, but I did it. I saved you from who knows how many freaks out there."

"Oh, so the freak category officially excludes you? What are you then, psychotic and unhinged?" Her eyes were bright and wild, but I now realized it was not from excitement but the salty waters welling behind them. The poor, thickheaded girl, she really wanted to understand. Does that make her the idiot?

Maybe not an idiot, but a stupid move, surely. To come here merely to cry and show weakness to him. And I was just starting to like her, too...

"What is that, anyways?" Apparently, Adela had not finished talking, waiting not even seconds for Liam to respond to her insult before pushing forward, "some sort of 'fuck you' in disguise? You helped me out because I was literally caught in the train--do you really think that instantly made you my best friend? You were always there and always helped, but I suppose my judgment could use an upgrade after all. You inflicted more than you ever protected me from," her vibrant blue orbs narrowed to slits, staring sharply at his empassioned face.

I don't suppose I'll ever truly understand people. Nothing that makes sense ever follows through when such beings are involved with any sort of experiment. If the redheaded man allegedly cared so deeply for Adela, then he, theoretically, would not harm her. Yet he's in jail for just that. And then, after all the bloody crime in this world, a lone police officer like myself comes to wonder why someone injured would visit he who inflicted the pain. Aggravating and patternless; futile an experiment to begin with.

"I was protecting you!"

"From what, my garbage can? Oh no, don't tell me, I was going to get a papercut reading so you had to kill me to prevent that happening!" she screamed, angry, furious. Then again, I suppose she had ever right to be, to want to lash out at him, but that didn't diminish how boneheaded a move it was. Did she really suppose she would get anywhere in coming here?

Policemen are already portrayed as the ass holes as it is, I might as well act the part. What did she hope to achieve, other than perhaps a little relief through screaming? Was she really hoping to understand, or did she just want to transfer her ire to the scumbag under my watch; to ultimately make him more irate and my job harder? Doubtful, but at this point in time I wouldn't put anything past even the injured. People have no forethought, afterall, and wish only to please themselves.

"No!" He was screaming back at her now, caught up in the wrathful heat his counterpart had begun; all the same, he said no more than that, found no urge to elaborate.

"Oh no, of course not. You must have had a better reason for waiting uninvited in my apartment for me. How did you even get in there? And why the hell did you hold a knife to my neck? And don't you dare go on and tell me again that there are things that I don't know, because I'm only a year younger than you and you know as well as I that i'm not stupid."

"I never said you were stupid," Liam replied, his voice having calmed a bit.

"And I never said you did. Actions speak louder than words, remember, and you've done a great job insinuationg it," Adela's voice, in return, softened as well, but was no less hard nor cold.

At this point I'd long since been forgotten, and, certainly, it could be said that it was rude for me to listen on. I stuck, however, to the point that she could not be left alone with him, even separated by bars. Plus, there was also the fact that I hadn't heard his confession. Perhaps she could coax him into admitting the truth for me.

"I never did anything, though!" the redhead finally broke out after a few moments of obvious struggle with himself. Clenched hands and a face slowly reddening as he stared angrily at a hinge in his cell, blatant signs of ill-progressed battle with oneself.

"Blasphemy! We both know very well that you never expected me to actually get into the university of my choosing for music. I even remember your face when I applied. You've supposedly been my best friend since I moved here when I was nineteen--so, what, four years--yet you never cared to find out that I know Mandarin and German as well as Italian and English. The first time I spoke German you thought I'd made up some bloody jibberish as opposed to being born there. And still, you see and comprehend nothing."

"Blasphemy, you don't usually say that word..." the man diverted, or attempted to, the conversation when he could not supply a proper or recondite response.

"You're right, I normally use tilly-vally, a word you would not know otherwise. But do not think that this is excusing you from either my questions, curiosity, or wroth."

"Wrath, you mean," he slipped in, in hopes to be both helpfully smart and irkful.

"No, I mean wroth," Adela bit back scathingly, her patience evidently drained, questioning mumblings gone and replaced with a thin line of lips pressed dangerously together. She'd reached into the pocket of her dark jeans to grasp an elastic band and yank her hair back, but her eyes still held a slight wetness to them.

Perhaps this was to taken as a cue, the pulling back of the brown hair. What good could I say, I surely did not know her--or signs of her explicit fury, for that matter. All the same, Liam took that as his moment to answer, "I had a lockpick... It's my cousins, actually, but a friend of mine nicked it last year. You were out, so you couldn't exactly have the chain up..."

"Oh, great, good to know I can't trust anyone. Care to enlighten me with the why?" She was flitting around with nonsense less and less, plainly seeking an honest and quick response to her probing queries.

"There are some things you just don't know..."

"No! Did I not already say I want, demand, more than that?" At this she seemed to crack, blunder in her frustration and kick out baldly at the bars to relieve some of her anger. However, she was badly pleased when she visibly winced at the contact of her toes to metal, separated only by the thin cloth of Converse.

"Alright, alright! Just don't hurt your feet," he watched as she retracted her right foot carefully to massage it with her hand, almost as if he were truly concerned. Almost, but who could be foolish enough to say he truly did? "There are.. people who aren't fully fond of me. In the sense that they wanted to kill me. If they were to find you, they'd torture you."

"So I'm to take what you attempted as decent and kind?"

"Well, yes," the redhead conceded softly, nearly inaudible under her glare.

"No, not yes," she stood from her spot on the floor to become at least nearly eye-level with the scum-bag, staring him down, "because something decent wouldn't include holding a knife to my neck to kill me, or attempting to get in my pants!"

"I had to save you. I couldn't leave you behind, never leave a friend behind. Just like you told me, never leave a friend behind. Never, not ever. Not a friend," he seemed to be losing himself in the words that were, apparently, once the girls, perhaps even years ago. His eyes were widening and he spoke more to himself than her, so soft I had to strain my ears to catch even a whisper of it from my position mere paces away in the shadows.

"Oh, and you couldn't get on with taking my life without shoving me into tables and such. I have a concussion! All for what, so could, could..." and she broke off, her courage finally faltering. Not taht it was really needed, they had still been in the same position when we arrived. Me and my partner, that is. Her against a wall, beside a fallen table and broken glass, knife to her and his fingers trailing her insides.

"I had wanted to make it a happy parting, ending... Only, you never looked at me like the other guys, so I had to take things into my own hands. I knew you would like it, if I just tried..."

"Happy! For you, maybe. You think a girl enjoys being raped? By her own friend? Of course not! I was lucky Felix was suspicious of the crashes!"

"Well then, surely you weren't looking properly! You could love me, I know it. Why are you so blind?" he screamed back at her, clutching the worn mattress for support, worn and used but more than he deserved.

"You liar!" Adela gasped, the tears finally pouring down her cheeks, "You must have a better reason than that! You have to." Her sobs crushed into her like tidal waves, slumping her shoulders as she reached out to clasp the bars separating them. To grip until her fingers paled, and only to hear his taunting laughter in response, a maniacal twitter.

"Must I? Must I really?" He had come closer himself, grabbed her hands to pry them through. "You don't get it, you never did. You're mine," and then he went to kiss her, the skin so close, now finally in his grasp again.

"Liam, no. Liam... I am not yours, I'm my own, now let go," Adela tried in a placatory voice, watery eyes wide.

This was all the confirmation I could ever need: he was an ass hole, through and through, and it was finally my call to move in.

A/N: Unedited, I apologize about that. I fear I'm losing my patience from all the fireworks still going off and giving me a headache. But, I have to say that I like the point of view of this story, though little else. I decided to make it the cops because I picture him young and naive, but foolish enough to think that he knows who is evil and who is not. So, he's the perfect biased view. I really wanted a volatile perspective: he execrates Liam no matter what, but he shifts in and out of detesting Adela; he finds other humans stupid and boneheaded when a lot of what he does reflects that when you look on it.

So, enough of me dissecting my work, I think.