#ocjames

You sit down and breathe, trying to calm down. You've been here for a week now, but with James coming here every day, it feels like an eternity.

"James..."

You mutter bitterly, his name leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. Your eyes wander to the other side of the room, where the thousands of gifts he brought are scattered across the table without any care.

The smell of alcohol and antiseptics invades your nostrils as you walk through the hospital corridors to your fiancé's room. You were carrying a box of sweets in a good mood, you worked hard to cook all this after all.

Your hands got burnt in the process, but if that's enough to show him that you love him, there's no need to worry about it.

You hesitate for a second, but decide not to knock. As you turn the handle and push open the door, you freeze at the scene. You regret not knocking sooner.

A blazer is lying on the floor, next to a woman's jacket. The table where a woman is sitting is a complete mess. You look around the scene in shock, until you finally see the faces of the couple in front of you.

Your fiancé and his assistant.

James quickly turns away from the woman and towards you. He seems completely oblivious to the woman in front of him “Darling, you've come to visit me!” a smile appears on his face as he walks over to you 

How dare he look happy after the scene you've just witnessed?

Noticing your presence, the assistant tries to leave discreetly, her steps hurried but contained. You don't think, your gaze sweeps the room and settles on the first object within reach, a chair.

The impulse takes over you, and before you can even think, you’ve already lifted it and struck her with the first blow. The sound of the impact and the screams echo around you, and you keep going. You hit her again and again until you realize the screams have stopped.

It was enough to alert nearby staff and patients. Some watched the scene with horror etched across their faces, while others were already running toward where you were.

You turned to your fiancé. His face was a mix of fear and shock, but there was something else. A glint in his eyes, a small smile on his lips.

He looked pleased.

"You... killed her? Because of me?" his voice came out low, almost in awe. "If I had known you were…"

You didn’t let him finish. You raised the chair again and lunged forward, ready to strike. But before you could hit him, you were restrained by nurses who rushed in and pinned you down.

On the ground, trapped under arms and surrounded by shouts, as the nurses rushed to check the woman's body, you realized what you had done.

There’s no going back now.

You clench your fists as that memory flashes through your mind again, and you quickly look away from the table. There's no point in thinking about it anymore. Instead, you fix your gaze on the hallway clock.

5:48 p.m. James usually arrives around this time. Maybe he’s running late. Or maybe, just maybe, he finally gave up trying to convince you not to kill him with your own hands. You hope it’s the latter. But your hopes die the moment you hear that sticky, annoyingly cheerful voice.

“Thank God you’re awake... You usually tend to doze off around this time.” He appears from the corner where you were looking at the clock. “Sorry I’m late, darling, the hospital was packed today.”

You ignore him and turn your back, not even bothering to answer. He has always hated the silent treatment. If you're lucky, he'll give up and walk away. But you know that would be a miracle.

"I thought we were past this…” His annoyance is obvious, even though he tries to mask it with sadness. "I noticed you even had one of the chocolates I brought yesterday. That has to mean you're starting to forgive me.”

What? You didn’t touch any of the things he brought, but you decide not to care about that now. "I told the guards not to let you in," you say directly, completely ignoring the absurd thing he just said before. "Why are you here?”

"You should know that won’t stop me." "I guess not." You turn toward James, not hiding your unhappiness at seeing him. "So? What did you come here for?”

"Can’t I visit my own fiancée anymore?" he said, showing the gifts. "Look, I picked your favorite flowers and chose the best chocolates for you..."

You don’t pay attention to his words. Hearing him speak used to be something you loved, but now it only provokes irritation.

As you struggled to push away any thought that reminded you of his presence, the cell door creaked open with a dry squeak, and a guard let him in. Your eyes first went to the gifts he carefully placed on your table, adding them to the others he had brought before. When you finally mustered the courage to face him, his arms were already around you.

“What…” You immediately raise your hands to push him away, but he interrupts you by hugging you tighter and bringing his lips close to your ear.

“You don’t want to make a scene here in front of everyone, do you?” His warm breath tickles your skin, sending an uncomfortable shiver down your spine. If you want to get out of here and as far away from him as possible, you better be discreet for now.

Noticing your attempt to hold back, he rested his head on your shoulder, prolonging the moment longer than tolerable. When he finally pulled away, he smiled with that same irritating smile as always.

"Aren’t you afraid I’ll break your face?”

“You wouldn’t do that.”

You definitely would, but not here.

He settled on the edge of your bed and motioned for you to sit beside him. “I have something to talk to you about.”

When you didn’t follow, he took your hand and gently pulled you to his side, his expression now serious as he lowered his voice. “Look, about everything that happened…”

“What is wrong with you?" Your hand pulls away from his in a sharp motion.

He doesn’t react right away. He just lowers his eyes, as if searching for words on the floor. For a brief second, he looks hurt, but says nothing.

"You think you can just come back here and try to fix everything?" Your indignation is clear. Your stomach turns just having him this close. His scent, the sound of his breathing, everything about him feels really annoying right now.

He takes a deep breath, and when he finally speaks, his voice is low, almost cautious. "I know, I know what I did... But could you at least listen to what I have to say?"

That sparks something inside you. Your heart races, like you’ve just been punched. You stand up abruptly, the bed creaking under the sudden movement.

"Listen?!" your voice rises instantly, firm and uncontrolled. Your whole body is tense, you’re really holding yourself back from exploding. "Do you even know what you’re talking about?! You cheated on me, for fuck’s sake! There’s no excuse for that!" Your breathing is already heavy. 

He stands up too, maybe out of impulse or maybe out of fear of losing control of the situation. He tries to take a step toward you, his hands slightly raised as if trying to calm you. "Darling, please, calm down, I just want to…”

"Get the fuck out of my cell." You cut him off, looking him straight in the eyes. "I don’t want to hear what you have to say, none of your excuses. I’d rather rot in prison than be free because of you!”

He freezes for a moment, as if unsure whether he should insist or leave. But you don’t look away. The air between you is heavy. Your argument has drawn several curious looks, and one disapproving glance from a guard.

James knew that if he pushed any further, he’d lose any chance of speaking to you again.

He leaves the cell in silence, without looking back. But just before crossing the door, you still catch his final whisper,barely audible.

"I’m going to get you out of here."

Your eyes widen for a second before you pull yourself together. 

"And when that happens, I’ll kill you."

He says nothing else and walks out in silence.

Your body is still trembling with anger, and you throw yourself onto the bed, one arm resting over your eyes. You try to calm your breathing, taking deep, slow breaths.

You tried once, then twice, three times…Each attempt only seemed to make the irritation worse. You can’t understand how he still manages to affect you so deeply, even after everything that happened. You keep trying for the rest of the night.

The next morning, you wake up in a bad mood, your body stiff in an uncomfortable position and your shoulders aching, without remembering exactly when you fell asleep. But it wasn’t the discomfort that woke you, it was a different sound.

You turned your head slightly to the side and looked out of the corner of your eye. You saw a hand reaching through the bars of the neighboring cell, trying to grab a box of chocolates James had left on the table against the wall opposite your bed.

You watched the woman’s pathetic attempt to be quiet. She seemed to be struggling. Her hand barely touched the box, and when she did, all she managed to do was push it farther away.

The scowl that was already on her face deepened. With an annoyed sigh, she pulled her hand back. Just as she was about to try again, she looked in your direction, probably to check if you were still asleep.

Your eyes met and she quickly withdrew her arm, freezing. You stared at each other for a few seconds before she gave you a mischievous smile. "These chocolates have been here for days…! You’re not going to eat them, are you? It’s better if someone does before they rot and make the whole place stink!”

Despite the confident tone, you noticed the nervousness she was trying to hide.

You look away and stare at the ceiling. "You can take it. I wasn’t going to eat it anyway."

The woman stayed silent for a moment. She didn’t seem to believe you truly didn’t care. "...Really? I mean... alright then! Don’t mind me grabbing it!"

She reached out again, this time more eagerly, and finally managed to grab the box.

With a satisfied smile, she pulled it into her cell and opened the box, unwrapping a chocolate. "I was so hungry! Yesterday, when your boyfriend was…”

"Ex” you correct her.

"...Ex-boyfriend was here, I couldn’t grab any and spent the whole night starving. You and he are terrifying when you’re angry, so I didn’t want to risk it." She tossed the chocolate in the air and caught it in her mouth, chewing happily.

You got up from the bed and sat up, your gaze falling to the floor. “...Did you see what happened yesterday?”

"You should be asking who didn’t see it." She grabbed another chocolate. "You two were loud. I don’t know how he still has permission to visit you and bring all this good stuff!"

"Good stuff..." you repeat bitterly as you start getting up to get ready.

The woman you were talking to glanced quickly at the clock and realized she also needed to hurry. Neither of you wanted to attract the attention of the guards.

After pricking your fingers several times, you finally finish sewing the hand of the small amigurumi you've been working on since you got there. Carefully, you hold it up to your eyes, examining each stitch closely.

It's not perfect, but... it's good enough. You hope some child will like it.

Then, the sound of the bell echoes through the hallway. It’s time for outdoor break. You put your materials away, hand the amigurumi to the woman in charge of the workshop, and head toward the yard.

Outside, you sit on a bench, watching the other inmates also taking advantage of the fresh air, some chatting, others in silence. They don’t mind your presence and ignore you.

Your eyes fall to your hands, thousands of tiny wounds scattered across them.

"Wow, that looks painful..." The same woman from before is leaning over your shoulder, eyeing your hands with curiosity.

"You again?" you turn your face away, annoyed. She turns to face you, her smile widening with amusement.

Ignoring your comment, she sits beside you. "Didn't know you were the crochet type. Doesn't suit you at all, especially making stuffed animals.”

“It’s not like I... like it. It’s just the least awful job around here.” You lower your hands to your lap.

“Doesn’t look that way to me…”

She decides to drop the subject and, in a casual motion, throws an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. Then, she slips a hand inside her bra and pulls out a chocolate wrapped in luxurious packaging.

“Check this out.” She places the candy between you two. “I don’t like owing favors, so I brought you a chocolate from the boss’s office. This is one of the most expensive in the world! Look at this fancy wrapping…” Her fingers point out tiny details in the packaging that no one would notice without trying.

When you make no move to take the chocolate, she grabs your hand and places it in your palm. “Impressive, right? I’m paying my debt to you for those other chocolates. Feel honored.”

You don’t really care about that, but she looks so proud that you don’t have the heart to ruin her moment.

"Thanks, I guess. You didn’t owe me anything, but... I appreciate the gift." You tuck the chocolate into a pocket or fold of your clothes.

She watches your face closely, looking for any sign of sarcasm. Finding none, she nods, satisfied.

"You’re not what I expected, [Name]." She crosses her legs and props her elbow on one knee, resting her face in her hand. "When I read your file, I thought you were just another one who messed up their life over someone stupid. But you seem… alright, even after everything.”

"Prying into other people’s lives is a huge invasion of privacy."

"Yeah, maybe. But criminal records are public reading in here. You should see what they say about me." She makes a playful face. "I’ve heard so many stories I don’t even know what I actually did anymore.”

“Anyway, it’s none of your business.” You stand up and start walking back, wanting to end the conversation.

She jumps up from the bench almost instantly, quickening her pace to catch up with you. “Hey! I’m trying to get close to you. Everyone here has an ally, and you need one too!”

“Why would I need one?” you snap back without looking at her. “If I just don’t mess with anyone, no one will mess with me.”

"That’s not how things work in a place like this.” She steps in and stops right in front of you, forcing you to halt, then reaches out her hand. “My name’s Sasha. If you become my ally in here, I promise I’ll watch your back. So? What do you say?”

You stare at her hand without moving. The offer doesn’t make much sense to you, but you feel that if you refuse, she’ll keep pushing, maybe even more than before. Before touching her hand, you hesitate.

“And what do you get out of this?” You pull your hand back and cross your arms suspiciously. “I don’t see what use I’d be to you, and it’s pretty clear you’re not doing this out of kindness.”

“What if I’m just being nice?” 

“Yeah, right” you say, turning your back and starting to walk away.

She starts walking beside you again, talking non-stop. The walk back is full of her trying to convince you to accept the offer. You begin to think she’s insisting just so she doesn’t seem lonely.

When you came back, you expected to see James waiting in front of your cell, but he didn’t show up.

He didn’t show up that night. Nor the next day. Nor the week after. In fact, months passed without any sign of him.

You still can’t really believe it, even though the answers are right in front of you. Has he finally decided to leave you alone?

During that time, Sasha tried to get closer to you. For some reason, she was always around and greeted you in a good mood. Even though she was loud, she didn’t annoy you like before. She was kind of nice to have around and always brought you gifts. You shared a bit about your life with her, and she shared hers.

She told you that before she got arrested, she was trying to pursue a career as an actress. She went to auditions, took acting classes, and even performed in an amateur play. You found it curious that someone like her ended up in prison.

When you asked why, she said she was arrested for theft, explaining that it was hard to afford the cost of classes and she saw no other way out. One day, you happened to see a small badge with the name of a theater. She quickly hid it and didn’t explain further. She looked embarrassed, so you decided not to press her about it.

It was 3:00 AM when you woke up to loud noises, hurried footsteps, gunshots, and other sounds you couldn’t quite make out.

Already alert, you immediately got up. Your heart raced as you tried to understand what was happening. The sound of footsteps and gunfire echoed down the entire corridor, mixed with screams and confused voices.

You moved closer to the bars of your cell, trying to see beyond the darkness. The faint light from flickering lamps showed figures running past, some shouting, others trying to shield themselves from whatever was going on.

Sasha appeared on the other side of the bars, her voice standing out amid the intense noise filling the corridor. "There you are! Are you hurt?” she asked with concern.

In her hands, she held a small key which she quickly inserted into your cell lock. You heard the click of the door unlocking and decided to ask, even though you already had an idea

"Sasha, what the fuck is going on?!"

She glanced quickly to the sides before answering "It's a riot. We don't have much time, let's get out of here."

As soon as the door swung wide open, she grabbed your wrist tightly and pulled you out, not giving you a chance to hesitate. The corridors were absolute chaos, bodies scattered on the floor, prisoners freeing each other, and police officers trying, in vain, to contain the riot.

You ran alongside Sasha, trying to keep up the pace, but every step was a challenge. The smell of blood and burning smoke in your nostrils was unbearable.

Suddenly, there was an explosion at the end of the corridor. Your body reacted instinctively; you turned your head back and saw a huge hole in the wall next to the door.

A crowd of prisoners was fleeing in panic, trampling everything in their path. The sharp sound of gunshots made your heart jump, and you quickly looked forward. Sasha was looking over her shoulder, clearly annoyed. "For God’s sake..." she muttered to herself before looking at you. "Pick up the pace, and don’t run in a straight line." She tightened her grip on your wrist and rushed ahead.

You tried to keep up, but you couldn’t. If it was already hard to dodge the bodies on the floor, now it felt impossible. Even after grabbing her with both hands, you and Sasha struggled to stay together, the panicked crowd made it nearly impossible.

And then it got worse. You felt a sharp pain in your thigh. It was like your leg had been torn apart from the inside, followed by a burning sensation that made you gasp.

The sound of the gunshot still echoed in your ears when your fingers slipped from Sasha’s. In the blink of an eye, she vanished into the crowd.

"Shit..." you hissed through clenched teeth. 

You stumbled until you managed to get out of the escape route and leaned against a wall, trying to think of what to do. The pain was overwhelming, you knew you wouldn't be able to run like that.

While you were struggling to come up with a solution, you felt a hand slide around your waist, and before you could react, you were yanked back with brutal force.

A damp cloth covered your nose and mouth. Your body fought on reflex, but stopped the moment a familiar voice whispered in your ear.

"I told you I’d get you out of here."

You woke up with your face pressed against something warm and firm. Slowly, your senses began to return, and as you looked up, you found yourself face-to-face with James’s peaceful, sleeping face. What the fuck? When you tried to push him away, you realized something strange, your hands were cuffed behind your back. Looking down, you saw that your thigh was carefully bandaged. At least your feet were free.

You expected to be in your old home, the place where you lived before everything fell apart, but the room around you was completely different. It looked... tropical. Warm golden light filtered through the windows, the air smelled faintly of sea salt, and from outside came the soft, rhythmic sound of waves crashing.

With effort and several tries, you managed to get to your feet and take a better look around. This place was definitely not an ordinary house. The walls were made of light wood, decorated with fine fabrics and clay-potted plants. A steady breeze flowed through the room, making the white curtains sway gently. Outside, you could hear birds and the distant sound of the sea.

“Did you like it? I decorated it just for you.” You turned your head. James was still lying on the bed, silently watching you. His gaze was fixed, like he was waiting for a specific reaction.

“Where did you bring me?!” you snapped, unable to hide the anger and confusion in your voice.

He stood up slowly and walked to the middle of the room. He stopped and opened his arms with a satisfied smile on his face. "How can you be mad after everything I did just for you?" He started rambling about the decorations, mentioning where he had stored your police training books, your clothes, and your personal belongings.

You kept your gaze steady as you waited for an explanation. The anger inside you grew, mixed with fear and disbelief.

He sighed and then returned to the bed, sitting on the edge.

"It was your dream to live in a house by the beach." he said, trying to make you understand what he had done for you. "That's why I worked so hard to bring you here."

"Bring me here?!" you said, incredulous. "You literally kidnapped me and handcuffed me!"

He went silent for a moment, then admitted, looking away, "…Well, I didn’t see another way to get you here."

You felt a knot in your throat. He continued, his voice lower now, almost as if trying to justify himself, "And you didn’t seem emotionally stable enough to have a conversation with me."

You grit your teeth, the feeling of helplessness starting to weigh on you.

“So you thought you had the right to decide everything for me?” you ask, trying to control the tremor in your voice. “I’ve told you, it’s over! It’s finished, done, gone!” You hope your firm words finally get through to him.

His smile falters and he stands up, walking toward the door.

“Now you’re going to leave and just let me here?”

He opens the door and looks back over his shoulder. “I’ll be back soon, darling. Wait for me.” He closes the door behind him with a smile.

There’s no way you’re going to just stand here waiting for him.

The pain in your thigh is unbearable, but that won’t stop you. You drag your legs slowly to the edge of the bed and, after a lot of effort, manage to touch your feet to the floor. Every movement makes the pain worse, your body trembles, and you’re almost regretting what you’re trying to do.

But your pride speaks louder. You refuse to obey him. He must think you’re helpless now that you’re hurt. Even with that thought, you’re still hesitating.

You hesitate just long enough for him to come back.

"...I thought I told you to wait for me.” he said, clearly not pleased. "You won’t be able to walk without my help.”

"I don’t need you, I can walk on my own…" The tremor in your voice is obvious, even you’re not sure you believe it.

“Then walk.”

“...What?”

"Walk." He repeats, leaning his back against the wall by the door. "You said you don’t need me, so I want you to come to me without my help.”

The room fell silent. You felt your breathing quicken. The weight of the situation fully settled on your shoulders. Your thigh throbbed, each pulse of pain sharper than the last. You looked down at the floor, then at the distance to the door. It was just over two meters, but to your injured body, it felt like a battlefield.

"I'm waiting, or have you already given up?"

He stepped away from the wall and started walking toward you. You quickly raised your hand, signaling for him to stop.

"I can do it..." you whispered to yourself, trying to believe your own words. You took a deep breath, gathering courage. With great care, you placed your uninjured leg on the floor. But even this simple movement pulled the muscles in your injured thigh, sending a sharp pain through your body like an electric shock. A trembling sigh escaped your lips.

James watched silently, but you noticed impatience growing on his face. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you give up, you decided to push through it.

You regretted it. Deeply.

Your body gave out immediately, overwhelmed by immense pain. Your leg failed, and before you could react, you were already on the floor. The sound of the fall echoed through the room, your head hitting the floor hard, the impact knocking the air out of your lungs.

But nothing hurt more than your thigh. The sudden movement from the fall made the injured muscles contract, and the pain tore through you as if the wound had opened again. Your body trembled and tears welled up in your eyes. You could barely breathe.

You clenched your teeth as you heard his loud laughter echo right in front of you. The sadness that had consumed you seconds before quickly merged with anger and, even worse, humiliation.

“You look like a worm writhing…” he mocked between laughs, barely able to contain himself.

When the laughter finally started to fade, you mustered the courage to lift your face. But it was in vain. The weight of his shoe was already pressing down on your head, forcing you back to the floor.

“Stay down.” he murmured, his voice hard and cruel. “It suits you better.”

His harsh tone caught you by surprise, he had never spoken to you like that before. A chill ran down your spine, but you tried to keep your voice steady, even though the tremor betrayed your insecurity.

“Is that the first thing you do when you see your girlfriend in pain? What a great boyfriend you are…” Your own words disgusted you, but it was better to keep him entertained for now.

He fell silent, and you couldn’t guess what expression was on his face at that moment. Without warning, he lifted his foot off your head, and you took the chance to slightly raise your head. Just as you hesitated to look at him, you felt the weight of his shoe press against your chin, gently lifting your face with a disturbing tenderness.

“You’re right” he said, his voice carrying a false tone of remorse. “But on second thought... a snake suits you better, don’t you think? I say that as a compliment.”

You shot him a sharp look, as if you could cut him with your eyes. But he simply ignored it, as if your contempt didn’t affect him in the slightest.

Without warning, he bent down and picked you up in a bridal carry, with unexpected gentleness. The contrast between his cruel words and soft gesture left you confused.

“Let’s go” he murmured, a slight smile playing at the corner of his lips. “The kitchen awaits.”

As he carried you toward the kitchen, you started to take in the rooms you passed through. He had really decorated everything exactly the way you told him.

“So... what are your life goals? Or better yet, what are your dreams?” James asked, resting his elbow on the table as he watched you with interest.

“Dreams...” You paused for a moment, fork halfway to your mouth, and glanced out the window. The question seemed simple, but it struck deep. After a few seconds of thought, you cleared your throat softly. “I guess I’d like to live in a house by the beach. The sound of the waves relaxes me... The sand is nice too.”

James nodded thoughtfully and took a sip of his drink. “I totally get that. But you’ve got to be careful too. My mom used to go to the beach every weekend but never used sunscreen. She’d get all burnt, and guess who had to take care of her afterward?” He rolled his eyes slightly, but the gentle smile at the corner of his mouth betrayed the affection behind the memory.

“You really have a way of taking care of others...” You commented, a slightly softer tone in your voice. “I think our goals connect somehow. I can’t stand injustice, so I want to become a police officer after finishing college.” You extended the study book that was next to your plate. He took it carefully, flipping through some pages with interest, his eyes scanning the words.

“Now that you mention it...” He closed the book slowly, turning his gaze back to you. “You’re right, I have a dream similar to yours, but instead of living by the beach, I want to have a wedding there.”

“Oh, I’ve already been to one.” Your expression remained neutral, but your eyes clearly lit up at the subject. “My aunt got married on the beach. It was very beautiful. I think I’d like to do the same...”

The conversation went on. You were calm, sitting in your home, eating a simple meal made right there. There was no tension in the air. Just his presence there, talking to you, was enough to make you feel at ease. You felt safe and relaxed, as if you didn’t have to worry about anything else.

At that moment, you believed you had found the right person, someone who understood you.

You shake your head, trying to push the bad memories away. Thinking about the promises he made wouldn’t change anything now. When you become aware of your surroundings again, James is placing you sitting in the kitchen chair.

The kitchen was spacious and incredibly tidy. The light wooden furniture matched the tropical style of the house, and all the utensils were neatly arranged, as if they had never been used. On the marble countertop, some fresh fruits and ingredients were already prepared.

“Breakfast isn’t ready yet, I just came back because I thought you might be feeling lonely in there.”

James turned his back, grabbing a knife to continue cutting whatever it was. The rhythmic sound of the knife hitting the board filled the silence. “So you want me to just sit here watching you cook?” you ask, breaking the silence.

He didn’t stop cutting, nor did he turn to you. “You used to do that before, liked watching me cook…”

You furrowed your brow. Did he notice that? You didn’t even know he paid attention to such details. But then the memory of everything he did to you came rushing back, and that little moment of distraction dissolved into the bitterness of reality.

You watch his movements, the way he handles the knife naturally. The sweet smell of herbs began to spread as the tea finished brewing, filling the air with an almost comforting aroma. Emphasis on almost.

James washed his hands and carefully dried them on a white linen cloth folded over the sink. Unhurried, he grabbed a tray he had prepared on the counter and turned toward you.

On the tray, fruits cut into small pieces were arranged in separate bowls, strawberries, bananas, kiwi slices. Next to them, little pots with condensed milk, chocolate syrup, and fresh cream completed the presentation. You studied the tray before commenting, “This isn’t the healthiest breakfast for someone who’s still recovering.”

“Responsible as always, darling” a nostalgic smile appeared on his face. “I know, but I think you also need to regain some of your mood.”

He pulled a chair next to you and sat down, placing the tray in front of himself. Your gaze showed confusion as you realized he positioned it in front of him, not you.

Without saying a word, he grabbed a fork, speared a piece of strawberry, and dipped it into the melted chocolate.

“Let’s do it like we used to.” He raised the fork slowly to your lips. “Don’t you miss when I used to feed you?”

You immediately turned your head to the side. “No way.”

“Don’t be like that.”

He tried again to bring the fork closer, persistent, but you turned to the other side. The little standoff went on for a few moments, almost like a silent game between you two. Only when he realized he wouldn’t win the game did he sigh, defeated.

“All right, all right. How about we make a deal?”

“A de...” You barely finished the word before he took advantage of your distraction and shoved the fork into your mouth. He let out a low chuckle but stopped as soon as he noticed the deadly look you shot back at him. It was clear he recognized the boundary he had nearly crossed.

“If you sit on my lap, I’ll let you feed yourself.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And what makes you think I’ll accept that?”

“Well...” He tilted his head slightly, still wearing that strange smile on his lips. “I’m giving you a choice.”

You quickly weighed the options. None of them were good, just the lesser evil. Letting him feed you would put you in a infantilized, helpless position. But accepting to sit on his lap… well, you could pretend you were just trying to make everything more bearable. Besides, by taking the fork yourself, you could keep a minimum of autonomy. An illusion, perhaps, but enough for now.

You took a deep breath, suppressing the pride and frustration boiling inside your chest “I’ll sit on your lap if you let me eat by myself.”

His eyes lit up as if he had just received a gift. He nodded enthusiastically, a wide smile spreading across his face. “As you wish, darling.”

Without waiting any longer, he stood up and carefully lifted you. Then, he settled you onto his lap with surprising gentleness, adjusting your position so that both of you were facing the table where the breakfast tray rested.

You kept your face neutral, focusing only on the food in front of you and picked up the fork. Your first thought was to turn around and stab him, but you could feel his eyes on you, sharp and watchful like a hawk. You let the idea go and began eating in silence.

As you chewed, he leaned in and began pressing his lips against random spots on your back. Each kiss sent a shiver down your spine, and you gripped the fork so tightly your knuckles turned white.

When you raised the fork to spear the last piece of fruit, James tried to take the utensil from your hand. You resisted. He then wrapped his hand around yours and gently guided it back toward the plate.

“I thought we had a deal.”

“I’m not feeding you” he said calmly. “I’m just guiding you.”

Instinctively, your head tilted slightly upward as the fork approached your mouth. James didn’t seem interested in continuing the game, he held your chin firmly, though not aggressively, forcing it downward. You refused to open your lips, so he let go of your chin, pinched your nose gently and patiently, and waited.

A few seconds later, the discomfort overpowered your stubbornness. You opened your mouth to breathe, and he took the opportunity to place the piece of fruit between your lips.

“There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You knew he wouldn’t take well the answer you had in mind, so you held it back, biting your lower lip hard to keep the words from slipping out. He didn’t insist, he simply lifted you gently from his lap and placed you back in your own chair.

“I’m going to do the dishes. Once I’m done, I want to show you your new home.”

You didn’t argue. Getting to know the area might be useful. The more you learned about the place, the better your chances of escaping.

James took you through every room in the house, pointing out details of the decor, personal items he had brought to please you, and speaking with enthusiasm about everything he had prepared.

It was only later, when you looked toward the horizon and saw the sea stretching as far as the eye could see, that you understood the full weight of the situation. You weren’t just on a beach, you were on an island.

That made everything worse.

Still, a spark of hope ignited. There were guards scattered throughout the property. Their presence made escaping more dangerous, yes, but it could also be the key. If you could just get close to one of them… maybe you could ask for help.

The tour lasted the entire day, and even when you tried to hide your exhaustion, James noticed. He decided the tour would have to continue the next day. Now, you’re in the bedroom’s spacious bathroom, where the jacuzzi softly warms the water with gentle steam.

You're sitting in the center of the tub, the water enveloping your body, while James sits behind you on the edge. You insisted on bathing alone, wanting to preserve some sense of independence, but he refused to risk you getting hurt or something unexpected happening.

In the end, you reached a compromise: he would help wash your hair, but you wouldn’t take your clothes off. James agreed without protest and removed your restraints. At the moment, his hands are gliding slowly through your hair, massaging and washing it gently, while you lather your body from the front. "Be careful not to get your bandage wet. Even with the protection I put on it, it’s better not to take any chances."

You nodded silently. To someone who didn’t know him well, his tone might have seemed harsh, maybe even cold, but you knew it was the same clinical tone he always used with patients.

"I'm done. Can you hand me the handheld shower?"

"Aren’t you going to wash your back?" he asked, already leaning in. Before you could answer, James reached for the soap on the soap dish where you had left it. Without hesitation, he slid his hands under your wet shirt, gliding the soap across your back in slow, deliberate motions.

He leaned in, pressing your back against his, and whispered against your ear “Just relax, let me take care of you for a moment.”

Your body shivered involuntarily, but you didn’t resist. After so many arguments throughout the day, you simply didn’t have the strength to fight anymore.

“Aren’t you tired too? You spent the whole day carrying me around.”

Your attempt to push him away with logic sounded more like concern, and you realized it too late. Behind you, you felt the smile forming on his lips. “I’ll never be too tired to take care of my darling.”

If you ignored the fact that it was him there with you, it would’ve been a perfect moment. The warm water, the circular motions on your back, the silence that filled the bathroom, it was almost comforting. At least you were getting clean, even if fully clothed.

You thought he was done when he returned the soap to the dish, but then his hands came back to your shoulders, now with a gentle massage. You didn’t protest, just closed your eyes and tried to disconnect from reality. Pretend it’s not him, [Name].

His fingers softened their movements once he noticed your body was finally giving in. You took a deep breath, trying to take what you could from that strange moment of calm.

“Feeling any better? You were tense all day.”

“I think so…”

“Good.”

After a few minutes in silence, James removed his hands from your body and picked up the handheld shower. The warm water ran gently, washing away the foam from your skin. When the last trace of soap was gone, he reached for the edge of the tub and opened the drain, letting the water slowly begin to empty.

Turning his back to you, he gave you privacy to remove your clothes. When you told him it was okay to turn around, he came back, wrapped your back with a soft towel, and helped you sit on a dry chair.

Unfortunately, you weren’t very lucky with clothes. He allowed you to put on your underwear, but insisted on helping you into the nightgown. You didn’t really understand why, if he had let you bathe fully clothed earlier, why not give you privacy now? But you figured it was probably because it would be faster with his help.

Once you were dressed, he picked you up and carried you to bed. You were already feeling quite drowsy. He pulled one of the soft blankets up to your shoulders.

“You can sleep now, darling. Once I’m done, I’ll come lie down with you.” He returned to the bathroom, likely to take his own shower.

Your gaze fixed on the bedroom ceiling, mind already turning over what to do the next day. Maybe it would be a good idea to start looking for places to hide things that could help you escape.

Your thoughts didn’t get much further than that, you drifted off to sleep.

After some time, you woke up to the gentle touch of a hand caressing your cheek. Your eyes opened slowly, still heavy with sleep, and you turned your face toward the touch, finding James watching you with a tender expression.

“Sorry… I didn’t mean to wake you.” he said in a low voice, one that sounded genuinely regretful.

You remained silent for a moment, just observing him. He was shirtless, a few drops of water still trickling down his chest, likely from his damp hair after the shower.

“Don’t do that again” your voice came out more sleepy than firm as you pulled your face away from his hand and turned your back to him. The pain in your thigh was still there, but no longer intense enough to keep you from sleeping on your back.

You expected him to respect your space and leave you alone, but he didn’t. James came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you gently close to his body.

“You seemed to be enjoying yourself in the bath… How about we continue that?” he whispered, his hands sliding along your body.

The irritation that erupted inside you made you open your eyes, fully awake. “I don’t want to.” you said firmly.

But he didn’t back off. His hand began to roam your thighs. “You can go to sleep while I help you relax. I know you’re exhausted.”

You reacted quickly, grabbing his wrist and pulling it away “I said I DON’T want to!”

With his other hand, he grabbed your wrist that was holding his and squeezed hard until you were forced to let go. “Let me go, you’re hurting me!”

He was silent for a moment, then asked with a voice mixed with confusion and irritation “Why are you acting like this?”

“Acting like what…” you started to say, but didn’t get to finish. In a swift move, he pulled you, turning your body onto your back and climbing on top of you. Your hands were now pinned under his, firmly held against the mattress.

“Why are you acting like this?! You never cared about this before!” His voice was explosive, filled with rage. He seemed on the verge of losing control, tired of your resistance after a whole day.

“I didn’t care when we were together, but now we’re not.” You try to pull away from his grip “How many times do I have to explain this to you?! You destroyed everything when you cheated on me!”

“I’m trying to fix it! I really am!” His voice now trembled, and his eyes dropped to his collarbone, avoiding your gaze. “I know what I did was wrong, I just… I just thought…”

“Thought what?!” Your voice came out firm. It was like suddenly he was the victim in the story.

“I thought you didn’t love me…” he continued, his voice softer. “I knew how you were, but I thought I could change you. I thought that, by being with me, you’d be more affectionate.”

Your eyes widened and you felt them start to water, had he never seen your efforts?

“So… you never saw what I did for you?”

“I thought you were doing those little gestures because you felt sorry for me. I didn’t think it meant you were changing…”

You looked away and stayed silent, swallowing the pain of his indifference toward everything you had given. The silence caught his attention, and he leaned in, trying to see your face.

“That’s why I went after someone else! I just wanted to be loved. I thought what I was getting from you… wasn’t love.”

“You’re a horrible person.” The firmness in your words before completely vanished, and the tears you’d been holding back started to fall.

“Just like you, [Name].” The coldness in his voice surprised you, and you turned your gaze toward him.

“Tell me… Who was there when you were bullying at school, huh? Who cleaned up the mess you left behind? Who took care of the people you hurt just to make sure no one reported you?”

“I… I know. I know I was a horrible person, but…”

“You weren’t, you are!” he growled, tightening his grip on your wrists even more. “And that’s why only I can understand you.”

“You’re wrong! I’m not like that anymore!” you rebelled again, your eyes burning with anger and fear. “Unlike you, I’m trying to change! I really am!”

"Change?" he leaned in until your faces were almost touching. "You murdered someone just a few months ago… Do you really think you’re going to become a police officer after that? Do you think anyone’s going to forgive you?"

As much as you try to fight it, deep down you know he’s right. You swore you would change. Promised yourself you’d become someone better, someone worthy of forgiveness.

But the guilt that haunts you can’t silence one thought, that woman… She deserved what happened. Just like the man currently on top of you does too.

"But… I forgive you." His voice came out soft, almost compassionate, as he released your wrists. You pulled them back toward your body, shielding them like you were trying to erase the marks of his touch.

"You killed her because of me… I know I’ll never be able to repay what you did for me, but I want to spend the rest of my life devoted to you."

He wiped away the tears you hadn’t even realized had fallen, then sealed your lips with a gentle kiss.

His words echoed in your mind, and even though you didn’t want to admit it…You knew he was right.

Deep down, the truth was already clear to you.

Months went by, and you admit it wasn’t as bad as you thought it be. Now that your thigh has fully healed, you’re able to walk around the house with ease. After so many renovations, the place no longer feels like a simple home, it’s practically become a mansion.

James allows you to walk around the island as well. That filled you with hope at first, you even believed you might find other people there. But, over time, you realized that the only figures crossing your path were always the same men, guards. Guards at the gates, guards along the trails, guards watching from afar. Guards everywhere.

He seems determined to make all your dreams come true. He’s always speaking with enthusiasm about the things you once said you wanted, going out of his way to recreate scenes he claims were meaningful to you. And truthfully, many of them are. But none of it feels real to you, not when it's all happening because of the wrong person.

The only demand James imposes is that you spend time with him every day. He works from home most of the time, but on certain days, he needs to leave for the office. It’s during those intervals that you’ve had your best chances to explore the house and the island, still within the limits he set, of course.

Communicating with the guards has been a challenge from the beginning. Most of them wouldn’t even look in your direction. They were always on high alert, eyes scanning the surroundings as if they were being watched constantly, as if someone could threaten them with just a glance.

After trying for a long time, you finally managed to get a few words out of one of them. He worked at the main entrance of the house and seemed to be more than just a watchman, he acted like a personal bodyguard. On the island, he was only known as “T.”

You couldn’t speak freely. All communication had to be done through notes, since, according to him, all the guards were required to wear embedded earpieces in their uniforms, monitored at all times.

T told you he was there because of a personal debt to James. Years ago, James had saved his son’s life, and ever since then, he felt obligated to repay that gesture with loyalty.

At first, you thought it would be nearly impossible to make him see your situation for what it was. But, to your surprise, T understood everything faster than you expected. The truth is, he already suspected. He already felt that something was deeply wrong with that place. As grateful as he was, he still knew how to tell right from wrong. With T’s help, the two of you came up with a plan where every detail was carefully calculated. You knew that if it failed, you wouldn’t get another chance.

After all that time waiting, the day finally arrived.

At that moment, you were sitting on James’s lap while he worked. In the past few days, he’d been dedicating himself to work late into the night, and because of that, you had to adapt your own routine, sleeping during the day and living like a true night owl.

Of course, you complained, but James simply said it was temporary and that he wanted you to get used to it. Though it had been difficult at first, the new routine ended up creating unexpected opportunities, now you were able to hide the items you'd been gathering for your escape much more easily.

Your fingers moved delicately as you worked on a new amigurumi, inspired by a character you’d recently seen on television. It had once been a hobby you practiced out of obligation in prison, but it had since become a way to relax.

When James discovered your new hobby, he was so delighted that he dedicated an entire room for you to work in. Whenever he could, he’d join you, eager to learn. Since you didn’t have much patience for teaching, he tried to learn on his own, watching you closely. You even felt a bit sorry for all the puncture wounds on his hands and eventually decided to help him. You had a feeling he did it on purpose.

Your thoughts were interrupted when you felt a head rest gently on your shoulder.

“This character is cute… I didn’t know you liked them.”

You shrugged, eyes still focused on the precise stitching. “Their look got stuck in my head, so I decided to use the inspiration.”

He stayed quiet for a moment, watching you as your fingers danced between yarn and needle. Only when he noticed the hours slipping by did he finally move.

“I’m going to make something for us to eat, darling. Want to join me?”

“Wouldn’t that be breakfast? It’s nearly sunrise.”

“You could call it that.”

“Not now” you replied after pretending to think for a moment. With care, your fingers adjusted a loose strand of the amigurumi’s hair. “I want to finish this first.”

You stood slowly and walked over to the bed with the doll in hand, your eyes never leaving it for even a second.

“As you wish.” He walked to the door, but before leaving, he cast one last glance over his shoulder. “There's something for you in the wardrobe. Please try it on.”

That caught your attention and made you lift your head, but he was already gone. Fortunately, this has been happening often in recent days. He’d been leaving more frequently, which although strange had opened the window you needed to finally start planning an escape with T.

You opened the wardrobe and found a luxurious golden box. Carefully, you pulled it out and placed it on the bed. As you opened it, your heart sank.

No… this couldn’t be what you were thinking.

You took out the elegant dress and examined it closely. Yes, it was exactly what you feared.

The fancy wedding dress looked like it had been tailored specifically for you. So that’s why he had been going out so much. The flowers, the decorations, the candles… He was planning a beach wedding.

A small note fell from the dress

“Tonight will be a special night. I hope you liked it.”

You felt challenged, as if the day you were planning to be the best of your life was, in fact, going to be his.

Even if every part of you wanted to tear the dress apart with your bare hands, you knew you had to wear it. If James came back and noticed you hadn't put it on yet, he’d insist on helping you.

You headed to the bathroom and tried on the dress. It was truly beautiful… You didn’t expect it to look that good on you.

Wearing something he had picked especially for you made your skin crawl, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave it behind now. Better to take it with you and sell it to some rich woman, you’d need a place to stay after all.

Just as you were about to take the dress off, James appeared in the doorway. Seeing the opened box on the bed, he said "Having trouble, darling? I’m almost done, I’ll be back to help you in a minute."

Almost done?! You glanced at the clock.

05:34

You’d spent more time on this than you intended, it was better not to waste another second. T had probably already left the hammer hidden by the window, just as planned. You walked over, and there it was. You picked it up and examined it carefully, it was heavy and solid, strong enough to do real damage, no doubt about it.

You felt guilty for not telling T this part of the plan. But if everything went the way it was supposed to, you wouldn’t be here when he found out the truth.

Cautiously, you peeked through the bedroom door. In the kitchen, James stood with his back to you, focused on stirring something on the stove.

Your heart pounded.

What if he turns around now?

Your eyes stayed fixed on his neck, more precisely the base of it.

Medulla oblongata.

If you hit the right spot, it would be an instant death. At least, that’s what one of his medical books said.

You inhaled deeply, trying to steady the anxiety tightening your chest. Your eyes didn’t stray for a second, waiting for the moment his guard would drop.

Finally, you decide to act. You begin walking slowly toward him from behind, both hands hidden behind your back, gripping the hammer tightly. With your other hand, you discreetly lift the hem of the dress to avoid making any noise on the floor.

He remains unaware, but as you get close enough, you notice a slight shiver running down his shoulders, he must have sensed your presence “Darling, you…” he begins to say, turning slowly, but you don’t let him finish.

In one swift motion, you raise the hammer and strike the base of his neck. The sound of the impact makes your entire body tremble. You take a step back, fear and adrenaline flooding every sense. Your eyes squeeze shut in a desperate attempt to shield yourself from the horror of what you’ve just done, but the heavy thud of his body hitting the ground forces you to open them again. James lies motionless.

You did it. You struck the medulla oblongata.

Even so, the tight knot in your throat refuses to loosen. You know he won’t wake up, but the anxiety doesn’t go away.

You step back from the body slowly, knowing now is the time to run to find T. The sooner you get off this island, the better.

You walk to the door and cast one last glance at the fallen body.

“I promised I’d kill you when I got out of prison, didn’t I?” you murmur before running out of the house.

You struggle to run through the island’s forest. Branches snag at your dress, as if the island itself is trying to stop you from leaving. The ground is wet, covered in slippery leaves, and raindrops feel like blades against your skin. T had told you he secured a boat for you to get out of here, but the trail he left for you to follow seems to be dissolving in the rain.

Just keep running, [Name].

After a few minutes, something red catches your eye, caught on a branch. It’s the ribbon T promised to use to mark the path. You pick up your pace, heart pounding.

When you reach the shore, you see the boat. T is there, soaked, trying to get the engine to start. He turns around with a smile on his face.

“You made it!” he says, placing his hands on your shoulders as you catch your breath. “The forest and the rain really didn’t go easy on you. Are you okay?”

You glance down at the countless cuts covering your skin. The pain is just starting to pulse now, as if adrenaline had put your nerves to sleep.

“Yeah, yeah, just some scratches,” you try to ease his worry. “So, how are things?”

“All according to plan” he replies, opening a compartment at the bottom of the boat. “Food, clothes, gas…”

You nod at each item he points out.

“You better hurry, we don’t know when James will wake up.”

“…Yeah, I better go.” you say as you step in, more worried about leaving before he discovers the truth.

T helps you get settled. When everything is ready, you turn to him, feeling a mix of relief and gratitude.

“I… I really want to thank you. I couldn’t have escaped without your help.”

He hands you the last bag of food and pats your shoulder. “Don’t worry, it’s the right thing to do. I hope you…” Before he finishes, you hear a gunshot.

T chokes, his gaze blurring. Suddenly, blood spills from his mouth, hot and dark, staining his clothes.

…What?

He falls to his knees, clutching his chest, unable to speak a word. Without thinking, you jump off the boat and kneel beside him, desperately trying to stop the bleeding.

The dress, once soaked from the rain, now stains bright red.

“We’re even now.” A familiar voice echoes behind you with a coldness that chills your blood.

You don’t want to look up. How could you?

“You’re not even going to look at me? Looks like I’ll have to make you.”

A sigh escapes your lips as something explodes next to T’s neck, right at the carotid artery. Blood spurts out, splattering your face, while his lifeless body collapses onto you.

An explosive device?

“So? Are you going to pay attention to me now?”

You feel the world spinning, but gather enough courage to lift your head. And there he is.

James.

Alive. Standing. With that damn smile. The blood drains from your face as if pulled from within, your stomach twists, and for a moment you think you’re going to throw up. Everything around you becomes noise, the sound of the sea crashing against the shore, the wind blowing through the open window, even your own heartbeat. All drowned out by his presence.

“How… How are you alive? I made sure to hit your medulla oblongata…” Your face twists in pure horror. You were certain. You had hit it!

…Right?

He laughs. A soft, almost innocent laugh, as if mocking a child who confused right with left.

“Actually, it was the occipital bone.”

He sees your terrified expression and mistakes it for confusion. He starts explaining, almost like a patient teacher.

“You hit right here.” He raises his hand and points to a specific spot on the back of his neck, the exact region you aimed at. “But this is where you needed to hit.” His finger moves just a few millimeters down.

So close.

Had you really missed by such a small margin?

Your breathing grew heavy, each inhale a struggle. You had ruined everything. The entire plan, all the risk… and worse, you had dragged an innocent into this disaster.

The blood of an innocent was now on your hands.

Before you could react, James was already crouched before you.

“See? You need me even to kill someone.”

As your tears mixed with the cold rain and the blood running down your face, he slowly ran his hand through your hair, stroking it with a disconcerting gentleness, as if comforting a frightened child.

“Now we are both sinners.” His voice was sweet, almost gentle, but carried a cruelty impossible to ignore.

He kept stroking your hair for a few more moments, silently, until something behind you seemed to catch his attention.

“The sun is rising, darling. It’s time.”

His voice sounded soft, almost serene. The same hand that just seconds before was caressing your hair now squeezed yours, pulling you firmly to stand up.

You didn’t understand what he was saying. You still couldn’t process everything that had happened. Your mind was numb, thoughts scrambled, as if your body was still there, but your consciousness was far away.

James kicked something hard away, the sound of the impact echoing on the wet floor. When you looked at what it was, you saw T’s lifeless body thrown aside as if he were nothing.

Then he wrapped an arm around your waist, holding you tightly, probably to keep your steps steady as you both started walking.

As you walk, you see a body.

Then three, four, five…

The count continues. They are everywhere, lying on the ground, blood dripping from their necks. Your dress, which before only had T’s bloodstain, now drags on the floor, stained with the blood of all the others.

James notices the movement of your gaze, the way your head slowly turns, looking at every dead face that appears in your path. “Oh, them?” he says in a casual, almost distracted tone. “I forgot the remote also detonated all the explosive devices.”

The coldness in his voice frightens you. So you killed several innocent people?

Most of the guards were there, their bodies scattered, fallen over the chairs decorated for the wedding. The room was stained with blood, the heavy, humid air carrying the strong, bitter smell of iron, making your stomach churn. You tried to vomit but couldn’t. A lump in your throat seemed to tighten everything, leaving you breathless.

He walked beside you with an unsettling calmness, his eyes reflecting the pale light of dawn. James stopped in the center of the altar, where blood splatters from the guards covered the floor, now also marked by the soles of his shoes.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” said the soft, almost reverent voice. “I arranged everything so it would be exactly the way you like it. I wish I could have done more, but I admit that at this moment, I couldn’t ask for a better situation.”

You looked around, the contrast between the horrible scene and his words sending chills down your spine. 

He turned to you, took a small box from his pocket, and with a slow movement, opened it, revealing a ring that softly gleamed, reflecting the faint light of the rising sun. Carefully, he took the ring from the box and slid it onto your finger.

“Now, after all this time, we are married.”

You mustered the strength to say something, your voice barely a whisper: “…I don’t remember saying yes.”

An enigmatic smile appeared on his lips. “I’m sure you would have accepted in the end.”

Before you could respond, he gently held your hand, almost in contrast with all the violence surrounding you, and brought your fingers to his lips. He kissed the newly placed ring on your finger with an almost ceremonial care. Then, he softly pulled your hand and guided you behind the altar.

When your feet touched the cold sand, the icy water soaked your feet, making you shiver. James took off his jacket and wrapped his arms around you.

“Do you remember the dance we were practicing?” he asked, adjusting the jacket around your shoulders. “It’s been quite a while, but I still remember every step.”

You let out a soft sigh, not of impatience, but of indignation. You turned your face to the side, trying to avoid looking at him. But he wouldn’t allow it. With two fingers, he held your chin and turned your face back to him.

“It’s alright, I’ll guide you.”

He takes the first step, slow and steady, gently pulling you. Your feet slide against his, forced to keep pace with his rhythm. You want to rebel, to show your anger, to run away. But you can’t.

Do you even deserve to want anything?

His hands grip your waist firmly, guiding every movement. In a smooth turn, he spins you around, then pulls you back.

The innocent people whose blood is now on your hands can feel nothing.

He lifts you out of the water, your body suspended for a moment before touching the ground again.

You should just stop resisting and stay with him. You wouldn’t be happy, but wouldn’t that be a fair way to pay for your sins?

Then, he positions you with your back against his chest.

You’re not important enough for your death to pay for the lives lost because of you. Would the death of a bad person like you even be enough to repay the innocent lives?

Without letting go of your hand, he leans you back, his arm firmly supporting your arched body.

You promised you would change, that you would become someone better than you were in the past. Maybe you have no salvation.

You both spin together, and water splashes at your feet.

Actually, it would be hypocrisy. It’s like you’re forgetting what you did.

He slides back to the middle with you.

Then stay suffering, being unhappy.

In one last step, he pulls you close to him.

It’s the only thing you can do anyway.

Your breaths come in gasps as the dance ends. Your thoughts are interrupted when he begins to speak.

“I’m willing to spend eternity by your side, until your sins are forgiven, my sinner.”

A sea of blood covers the ground where most bodies lie. The steps advance carefully, avoiding stepping in the blood to keep expensive shoes clean. At the altar, flowers are taken from a bouquet and examined, stained by the dark liquid. The gaze soon shifts to something more striking.

Ahead, a couple moves in a rhythm that seems intimate, almost like a silent performance, standing out in the desolate scene. The figure sits at the edge of the altar, watching.

When the dance ends, what once seemed interesting has become tedious. The gun is raised, aimed at the man, and a precise shot brings him down.

The true target sighs in surprise and falls, unprepared to hold the man they were dancing with.

“James...?” you murmur, confused, noticing a tranquilizer dart lodged in his back.

“Boring, boring!” a hooded figure appears, tossing the gun up and catching it again. “Were you even trying? The whole performance was completely deplorable! Oh, how dreadful…!” The voice adopts a dramatic, exaggerated tone.

When you try to stand, the figure quickens the pace, holsters the tranquilizer gun, and draws another weapon.

Now, it’s a real gun.

“My target shouldn’t move. Come on, back where you were, come on, come on!” the figure insists, pushing the gun to your forehead and forcing you down.

You obey and return to your previous position, then bow your head. Silence dominates for a moment until broken by an annoyed huff.

“You’re not going to say anything? Seriously?”

“What should I say? You’re here to kill us, right?”

“Not him.” They spins the pistol’s cylinder. “Only you.”

Your eyes widen. You raise your head slightly, trying to see the face hidden by the hood. Only you?

“I... I get it...” The surprise fades quickly, and your head lowers again. “You must be someone I wronged in the past, then.”

“So how do you plan to make up for that?”

“...You’re not here to...”

“You think your death is enough?”           You stare at the figure again, now with irritation. “Stop playing games with me.” Gradually, your mind starts clearing.

For some reason, you sense your words make the figure smile. “A punishment isn’t really a punishment if you’re okay with it.”

“I disagree. It’s still a punishment if the one receiving it isn’t okay with it, even if they accept it.” your patience is running thin. “Who are you?”

“Heh.” The figure slowly pulls back the hood. “Miss me?” She tosses her hair back and rests one hand on her hip.

Sasha?!

“You!” Your tone is heavy with accusation. “What are you doing here?!”

“Forgot you had a gun pointed at your head?” Sasha lightly presses the pistol’s tip against your forehead, a teasing gesture. “Well, I don't like to let my targets die without knowing anything."

With the other hand, she pulls something from her pocket and hands it to you. A badge.

Looking at it, the symbol is unmistakable. So this was what she’d been trying to hide.

“Contract killer... So that’s your job? Killing for dirty money?” You throw the badge away with disdain. When you look back, the smile has vanished from her face, now serious.

“...You hate injustice, don’t you?”

You hesitate for a moment before answering. Your voice softens, matching her tone. “...Yeah, that’s why I want to join the police, to prevent as much as I can.”

“Tell me” she lowers the gun from your face “Do you really think you can be a police officer?”

Those words... are almost identical to what James said to you so long ago.

“You murdered someone just a few months ago… Do you really think you’re going to become a police officer after that? Do you think anyone’s going to forgive you?"

But unlike him, she seems more... genuine, sad even.

“I know I can’t...” your voice comes out in a whisper, your eyes fixed on no particular point. You want to deny the truth, but after so long, all that’s left is acceptance.

Suddenly, Sasha raises the gun. You instinctively close your eyes. But the shot doesn’t come at you, she fires beside your body and drops the gun from her hands.

“Then join me.”

Her words catch your attention. She crouches in front of you, resting her arms on her thighs and locking eyes with you.

“You agree the police don’t bring real justice, right? That woman you killed... Justice says she didn’t deserve that, but what about you?”

Even trying to avoid it, you can’t help but think she deserved it…

Sasha watches your expression closely, then reaches out and gently strokes your head. “Yeah, I agree.” She smiles with a tender air. “Traitors deserve to die. You’re just like me.”

You frown and pull your head away from her hand. That makes her laugh, and she stands, stepping back.

“So, what do you think?” She extends her hand toward you. “You’re more useful alive than dead.”

At that moment, flashes of memory rush through your mind. The first time she did this... a long time ago.

“But... how am I supposed to make up for what I did?”

“It’s simple. You can’t. You can’t run from your past, and that’s why I’m here.” This shouldn’t be a surprise to you. Deep down, you always knew someone you hurt back in school would come after you.

You just didn’t expect it to be like this. Whoever it was, they must still be too pathetic to have the courage to try killing you with their own hands. You take her hand. “Alright, I accept. Let’s bring justice with our own hands, Sasha.” She pulls you up, her smile widening and eyes sparkling with excitement. “An excellent choice, I must say! So, shall we?”

“Just a moment.” You pick up the gun you had taken from the ground and aim it at James. When you pull the trigger, all you hear is a click. “What? You only had one bullet left?”

When you look back, you see Sasha picking up the badge you had thrown earlier. “Duh, of course! I only had one target, one bullet was enough.” She winks at you, and you roll your eyes. “How arrogant. And how are you so sure that one bullet would be enough?” You hand the gun back to her.

“I have my own principles.” She tucks the gun into her waistband. “I can't kill anyone other than my target. One target, one bullet.”

You sigh, and she grabs your wrist, pulling you away from James’ body. “Oh, come on! I need someone to take the blame for what I did too.”

“I guess...” you walk beside Sasha in silence for a moment, the only sound being the rain and her cheerful humming.

“You told me I was like you...” you wait for her to look at you, but her gaze stays fixed ahead. “But I don’t hurt or kill innocent people. Well, not anymore, at least...”

“I never said my targets were good people. I make sure they truly deserve to die... just like you.” She glances at you from the corner of her eye, her tone clearly playful. “But I know that for you, dying might even be a favorable fate.” “Even after accepting your proposal, I don’t know if it’ll be easy to forget what I’ve done in the past.” You both approach her helicopter. “I’ll make sure you forget.” She opens the door and you step inside. “We’ll make so many good memories together you won’t even have time to think about it.”

Her words bring a smile to your face, even if you hate to admit it. Sasha climbs into the pilot’s seat and turns to you.

“You look tired. You can sleep while I fly.”

“I don't know if I trust you piloting anything. It doesn't suit you at all.”

She sticks out her tongue at you and turns back to the front. You stifle a laugh and look away, gazing out the window. Your eyes drift toward where James’s body should be. It’s finally over, but...