How To Hide A Body

Screens

He knew from day one that his game would come to an end. Who would win and who would lose, however, had not been up for debate. He had to win, no matter the cost. 

He had compiled and researched all the risks, calculated them too. And, in every possible outcome, he concluded that he would win. He would be victorious, and she would lose. He had too much on the line, and she had proven to be too risky. So, why then, was she coming so close to beating him? What had he done wrong for her to get this far? 

He rubbed his eyes, momentarily relieving his senses from looking at screens for hours non-stop. Small screens, big screens, medium screens, round screens, square screens. He swivelled in his chair, eyeing his boots. He rested his head in his hands, rubbing his temples, attempting to rub away the pain and heaviness he was feeling. 

"I told you, you must try meditating," a voice behind him said. 

Not looking up, he answered, "I told you, it-" 

"Doesn't help,  I know." she finished for him, "Maybe you're not doing it right." 

He heard the sound of her high-heels hitting the marble floor come closer and soon her hands were on his hunched shoulders, massaging him. 

"Ok, maybe forget meditating," she said filling the silence, "Spa day? Spa days can cure everything." 

He reached up and held her hand. It was soft and decorated with a single ring. That was new, he thought. He finally looked up, examining the ring on her index finger. 

"Where's this from?" he asked, his voice hoarse from lack of speech in the past couple of days. 

"Oh, this?" she asked, swiping her hand away, holding it in the other, "I, uh, made a ring for myself. Out of the diamond you gave me." He looked up at her. Her cheeks were tinted with rose blush, highlighting her freckles. 

"The diamond she stole? The Regent's diamond?" He asked. She nodded, bashfully. "You cut off a piece of the Regent's diamond?" his voice grew more aggressive. 

She took a few steps back in surprise, "Well, you couldn't have expected me to wear the whole thing!"

"Of course not," he said, looking away and examining his own hands, rough and empty. 

"While we are on the subject," she muttered, coming a bit closer once again, "What are we going to do about her?" she took a seat opposite him. She placed her hand on his knee as if trying to reassure him that everything was going to be alright. But, he knew, deep down, it wasn't. His breaths started to quicken at the thought of losing. It was quiet for some seconds, while he tried to manage the wave of anxiety washing over him. 

"We need to kill her," he muttered, "You need to kill her. She trusts you."