She put him on the chair and closed the door. He would have liked to think that he didn't know what would come. He would have liked to be able to smile at her faithfully and to be able to embrace his fate in ignorance and bliss. But he isn't stupid. He knows. He foresees, and the fear of the inevitable tortures him. She turns around at him, laughs with innocence. He almost laughs, too, just thinking about the fact that this exact innocence is what put him in this chair. Some time ago, he could have sworn that he sees angel wings growing out of her delicate back. Oh, but now... Now he has his eyes wide open and he finally understands her appearance. Pale skin, soft hair, full lips... What seemed sacred once turned out to be the mask of the devil. He could have grabbed her shoulders and move her aside, to run. He had the strength, he had the will, too. But the powers of justice kept him in place: he deserved his destiny, any attempt to escape would have been outrageous. Instead, with his voice trembling, he asked:
--Don't violate my right to know how I am going to meet my end. How?
--Your end? No, honey. I won't kill you, I'll love you.
The way she looks at him is confusing, but her sweet words get him drunk off relief. After all, there is no weapon in the room. Yes, she speaks the truth. She's not evil, she's just in love. She starts walking towards him, shy. Slowly, a smile slips between her lips and her shy walk becomes more sensual, which gives him more confidence. He feels her passion flying in the air, and there's a lot of it. He was so sure he knew what her plans were. He thought she wanted revenge, while she actually only wanted peace. Her unpredictability, her dedication managed to turn him on. He pulls her closer and she wraps herself around him. Her eyes charm him, beg him to make contact. He throws himself at her with thirst and kisses her euphorically. 1,2,3. 3 deadly long seconds pass, until he realizes she's sweeter than usual. 1,2,3. After 3 seconds, his head falls unconscious on the angel's shoulder, drowned in two drops of poison. She giggles. It's almost done. She can open the door and keep living her life. All she has to do is open the door. But she didn't lie, she did love him. After this death, nothing in her life would be as good as it was. She wouldn't be able to cry, to laugh, to truly live. She opens her mouth and licks her lips, hoping she loved him enough to give him the decency to leave her a bit of poison. She loved him enough. She loved him plenty. The liquid slides down her throat. A tear falls on her cheek, and she laughs one last time. 1, 2, 3. The war is over, celebrate.
