All that is dark | ✓

9| love

"WAKE UP, DARLING, THE sun is up."

She didn't know when she had fallen asleep, but when she opened her eyes, her sight wasn't blurred with insomnia anymore. Instead, all she saw was him as he leaned over her: his messy hair, his boyish grin, his playful eyes. In the filtered sunlight shining through the curtains, he was an angel. Even with the clear realization that he had drugged her to make her sleep, she couldn't help but see the halo above his head.

"What time is it?" she said, pushing herself up in a sitting position.

"Doesn't really matter," he shrugged," it's time to wake up, that's all. I'm bored." His eyes lit up as he jumped out of bed, grabbing her hands to pull her out. "Let's have a fun day together."

"Where?" she said, stars dancing in front of her eyes at how fast she stood up," you can't go outside, Nathan."

"Why not?" he said, throwing the closet open," I can do anything I want."

"What do you mean why not?" she blinked," you're one of the most wanted men in the world."

He placed a cap on top of her head, grinning as he pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear.

"The most," he corrected her," not one of. I'm the headline of every paper it seems, but I suppose my face does look nice enough to print. I quite like my mugshot, you know."

Swiftly he placed another cap on his own head, turning towards the door.

"This will work," he said," let's go outside."

Pure terror surged through her when she saw him walk away, a nauseous feeling she couldn't shake. She should go along with him, call for help, escape, but still, she couldn't help but think of the blood staining her hands. Soon it would be her mugshot beside Nathan's and the world would spare her even less kindness than they had at first. No one would declare her mentally unwell, they'd all know she'd been aware of everything she had been doing. Never before had she been allowed weakness, so why would anyone start permitting it now?

His accomplice, that's what they'd call her at best. A cold-blooded murderer, that's what she called herself. What good would it plead for her case that she had forgotten all the names of the victims? Her mother whispered in her ear and she saw black for a moment, about to faint in nothingness as she ran towards him. He couldn't leave her alone, but he couldn't bring her outside either. She was treading on the thin line between losing herself and finding reality, but she didn't know which of the two scared her more just yet.

When she grabbed his hand, she knew she had made her choice.

"We can't," she said.

He glanced over his shoulder at her, smile becoming warm as he took her in his arms.

"I won't let anything happen to you, my lovely psychiatrist," he promised.

She could still taste the iron in her mouth as she looked up at him, averting her gaze at once. He grabbed her chin, forcing her to look back at him when he spoke.

"What are you scared of?" he said.

"I -" she began, but the words tangled themselves around her throat like thorns.

"Is it me?" he asked," or is it the world freezing you in place?"

"I'm perfect," she said, nails digging in her palms," I'm supposed to be perfect, I have to be perfect. No one will forgive me for what I've done. I can't even forgive myself for breathing, never mind murder."

He took her hands in his, prying her fingers out of her bleeding palms as he held them to his lips, staining them red.

"My silly Helene," he drawled," was that all? That's no problem at all."