Siren

He stands at the edge of the crowded ball-room surveying the rich children of the big business men flirting and drinking for the sake of their parents organisations in the hope that it'd all be theirs one day. They were boring, their personalities suppressed to the point of non-existent, he didn't know why he was still being forced to attend these events –wasn't that what his brother was for?

His brother was well suited to events like this, where the dress-code called for itchy white starched collars, dark black tuxedo jackets under another dark black jacket. It was too hot, made to expose his muscles and make him seem more attractive. He was the bait dangling at the end of his family's hook and he despised it.

A woman in a black dress stalks across the dance floor. Her gloves are black, lacy,stretching half-way up between her shoulder and her elbow. Black tights (or perhaps stockings) stretched up her legs. She's all dark,her lip-stick, her eye-shadow and her eye-liner. Her hair's like a thunder cloud, full of volume and as black as the rest of her. Her hair's messy in a stylistic way. Looks that are deceiving, faking, pretending that she's different.

She struts across the ball-room, making her way to him. He raises an eyebrow and smirks into his champagne flute, from across the room his brother shoots him a look that says be polite, charming, civil. The woman approaches, stepping up to him, he moves his champagne flute to the side making himself more open to her approach. She steps closer, moving up to his ear, and he waits patiently for her to whisper whatever she wants, pretending that whatever she said would be new, even though it would just be the same empty flirtation as everybody else.

She whispers to him and his eyes widen, the champagne flute dropping and shattering on the ground. She touches his arm, briefly, and then she walks away through a hail-storm of glass. She turns once throwing a wink over her shoulder and all he can do is stare as the attendants race to sweep up the glass. He stares until she's lost from view, swallowed by the crowd.

The next time they meet is not as by chance as their last. He hasn't stopped thinking about her, what she said. It's been a month since they last met and to his family's surprise he attended every event possible, looking always for the woman. His family doesn't know what's happening, but they all think that they've finally made him the son they wanted. He finds her and he's entranced.

"Will you dance with me?" He asks and she takes his hand with a smile. He leads her around the room in a waltz, gliding and grateful for the forced lessons for once.

"What's your name?"He asks but she simply smiles, lips pressed together refusing to answer. He waits for a beat and then tells her, "I'm Christopher,"

She nods and he watches her. She leans forwards, her breath tickling his ear.

"Never!" He vows, pulling back appalled but she's walking away.

"WAIT!" He calls, as the song ends, and she disappears from view.

They see each other again a week later at yet another awful event. The lights, the people, the clothes all seem so much more suffocating then before and he suddenly can't stand it.

"Don't, don't say anything. Let's just go, let's go, please," Christopher begs the second he sees her, she's sat above them all. Majestically draping herself in the space between a stone gargoyle and the wall of an alcove. She seems so dreadfully muted tonight, and Christopher needs her to leave. Needs her to come with him, away, anywhere.

"It's good to see you again Christopher," She says quietly. It's the first words he's heard out of her mouth at a volume above a whisper, she remembered his name too. But now, more than ever he needs her to come with him.

"Please, let's go,"Christopher begs, reaching out to her and she pushes herself forwards letting Christopher catch her and then they're running for the exit, for their escape.

"I knew we we're the same," She says quietly. They make it to Christopher's car, a Ford, ten years old but trusty. He opens the back door and throws his jackets and tie in, and then he unbuttons his collar, the cool of the nights air a relief compared to the previous stifling confines.

"Can I drive?" She asks and he nods, climbing into the passengers seat. He watches her and she knows he does, but she never says a word about it. He directs her until they're finally parking. They climb out into the night. It's cold but the black of the sky illuminated only by the stars is worth it, she takes his hand as they walk through the world that is silent, tranquil, calm.

Eventually, they stop, sitting on a bench and still staying silent. She leans into his shoulder and for a while they're just two irrelevant souls compared to the majesty of the night sky, but then she turns her head and whispers to him once again.

"Are you leaving now?" He asks sadly.

"No, I can stay,"She tells him, and he relishes the moment for just a little while longer.

The day she dies, Christopher understands. All the balls, all the events, where her family was trying to ensnare his. Everyone was playing the game, but her family had the advantage, a secret. His brother and her sister were engaged. Unknowingly, his family would've married into the mafia and never know the truth. She tells him, tells the police and they manage to gather enough evidence to prove it. They separated their families. Saved his family, but it ruined her's and as a final act of revenge, they killed her. It finally made sense, what she'd been whispering in his ear and he wished it didn't.

                                                                I'm going to die.

                                                         They wanted her quiet.

                                                                              . . .

                                                       You'll be the death of me.

                      She wouldn't let him be involved, she wanted to protect him.

                                                                            . . .

                                        They can't control you either, can they?

        But she realised that he didn't need to be protected. They were in it together.