All that is dark | ✓

12| work

HER HEAD WAS IN the clouds when she opened her eyes. He had carried her to bed, she noticed, her hands resting on his chest as it slowly moved up and down. When she moved her feet, she could feel the ache of the glass cuts shooting through her, but she didn't pay it any mind. Right before she could step out of the bed though, he wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his head against her back as he spoke, voice thick with sleep.

"Don't go."

"I'm not going to go anywhere," she promised him, the words leaving her lips easily.

He pushed himself up in the bed, hair messy in his eyes as he glanced at her.

"Are you speaking the truth or just saying what you think I want to hear?" he said, though his voice was still amused.

There was no confusion in her mind this time when she spoke, because nothing mattered except him. She had realized that a while ago, at the same time that she had admitted to the Stockholm syndrome which had dug it's fangs in her heart. Besides, if this was all a game she might as well start playing. He was right, after all. Even if this ended with her hands wrapped around his throat it would be fine. She had nothing to lose anyway.

"I love you," she said.

He stared at her surprisedly for a moment, before a wide smile graced his face. Ever so gently he cupped her face in his hands, watching her adoringly.

"We both know that isn't an answer to my question," he said.

"We both know you won't believe me, my love," she smiled back," no matter what I say."

"My love," he repeated, the syllables rolling off his tongue warmly," I like that."

He didn't linger on her lack of an answer, instead jumping out of bed. "It's time to get back out, you and I."

The venom seeping in her heart valves dissolved into monarch butterflies, but she kept her smile.

"For another date?" she said," what's the occasion?"

"Unfortunately not a date, this time," he said," it's time for me to work."

"You're taking me with you?" she blinked.

"Of course," he said, looking almost puzzled at the fact that she had thought he wouldn't," I couldn't leave you alone here." He leaned forward to take her hand in his, raising it to his lips as he kept eye contact. "Besides, there's no one else I know who is as clever as you, my lovely Helene. You're going to do well."

"Am I?" she said," what if I've gotten rusty?"

"How can you when you analyze my every move all the time?" he said," we keep each other sharp, Helene. I keep waiting for you to run and you keep waiting for me to kill."

"I haven't ran yet," she said.

"And I haven't killed yet," he smiled.

In her dreams she kept walking through empty museums, filled with warped paintings of bleeding crimson and hospital white. She always woke up in cold sweat, but still, she couldn't help but be glad that she was sleeping at all. Her insomnia seemed to haunt her less these days, instead having been replaced by men whose faces she had forgotten. No matter what, she would remember them again. She had to.

"I'm looking forward to coming along," she said.

"I have filled your closet with clothes to your liking," he said," you can pick what you want to wear, my pretty psychiatrist. If you're dissatisfied I'll buy new things for you, so let me know. I want you to be happy."

"Do you know what it feels like to be happy?" she asked, more curious than accusing.

"Of course I do," he smiled," it's what it feels like to be with you."