ｃｈｒｙｓｓｉｅ

ｂｕｌｌｅｔ

Chryssie looked up from her dinner when she sensed Grayson in the room. Indeed, he was standing in the corner, twirling his silver pocket knife between his fingertips.

Fear went through her for a moment, but quickly evaporated. He would have already hurt her if he meant to do such things.

"What do you need, Grayson?"

"Don't talk to me using that tone."

"Fine." She sullenly stared back down at her carrots, picking one up delicately between two fingers. Her wrists seemed thinner than they were before, her hands a bit more bony.

She thought that she resembled a cadaver in more ways than one.

Grayson silently sat down next to her. "Have some cake. It's your birthday."

"No, thank you," she replied softly, pushing away from the table. Food seemed so unappetising in that moment that she thought she might throw up if he made her eat.

He took her wrist in his hand before she could leave. "Sit down, Chrysanthemum. You need to eat something."

"I'm not hungry."

"I took you out to the lake today. Didn't you like that?"

"The same lake that you dumped someone's body into?" The words slipped out of her mouth in a mumble, and she immediately regretted it when his eyes narrowed.

"Why can't we just put that behind us? Damn it, Chrysanthemum, I do one stereotypically 'bad' thing, and suddenly that matters in the long run?"

"You fucking murdered someone, Grayson." she responded in a flat voice.

He ignored her. "You asked me to take you out there. I thought that you would enjoy it."

She closed her eyes, trying to escape his piercing gaze.

She did remember the lake from earlier. She remembered her feet crunching against the snow, and Grayson walking like a shadow beside her. He had been a dark figure that somehow didn't fit, yet fit perfectly in the beautiful landscape. He belonged somewhere with the sharpness of broken ice and the unforgiving bite of the cold.

She hadn't enjoyed it much, because she knew that darkness lurked in the depths of the lake, underneath the crystalline ice that had formed on the top.

"Chrysanthemum? My flower?" Grayson's soft voice suddenly asked. Too soft. It dripped like maple syrup from his tongue, and she had known him long enough to understand that that was his manipulating voice.

"What is it, Grayson?"

"I don't want to fight with you. I didn't mean for you to get upset, see. All I want is for us to get along."

Chryssie sighed softly, then sat down next to him. "What is it? What do you want?"

There was silence, then his voice shattered it like glass.

"Get your coat on. I have a surprise for you."

~