“You’re mad,” Vienna gasped with a loud and satisfied chuckle. Her straight, dark hair fell like a waterfall behind her as she moved to the chair and sat tall.
“I most certainly am not,” the man, known to her only as Mr. Ryler, stated without a hint of emotion.
“Well,” she blurted. “I don’t believe I’ll stay.”
“You can’t leave,” he continued. “It’s pouring out, winds over thirty miles per hour.”
“You just told me you were going to shove a knife through my heart,” she stared on with heaviness in her brown eyes.
“Yes, but I didn’t say when,” he returned. He leaned over the back of the chair opposite hers, and then tilted his head. “Are you afraid of me?”
Vienna didn’t answer. Instead, she leaned back and touched her long fingers to her chin. Her brow pressed in and her eyes flickered like the lights overhead. Mr. Ryler took notice. Her sharp nails, painted bright red and shining in every light, grew length at once.
“I understood you to be delicate,” Mr. Ryler stated, coldness ever-present in his voice. “Without adjustment, without intensity.”
“Are you afraid of me?” she asked with a cocked grin.
“Would that please you?”
Silence encased the white room just before the lights went out. Mr. Ryler pulled a knife from his lower leg and rose tall with a force many men couldn’t dream of owning. He could feel the blade pierce her flesh, deep and thick, blood oozing on his fingers.
But in the darkness, Vienna began to laugh. She wrapped her hands around his neck and her fingernails dug into his skin. And though she could have easily taken his life, she paused. The darkness that ran in her blood, the black that hid in her eyes, seeped into him and held his heart with patient pain.
“Are you afraid of me now?” she whispered. The lights flickered over them, but the darkness prevailed.
Mr. Ryler, seeing nothing but the disease Vienna had passed, nodded in the brevity of the moment. And Vienna laughed again.