Me & Her

Her

There's no time to waste.

He's here.

Hunger, feral pure-blooded hunger, explodes from the cracks in his expression. Hunger or perhaps curiosity. I don't exactly have much time to analyse it.

It takes barely a few seconds for him to adjust. Seconds that I use to dart to the couch, grab the book and launch it at his knees.

The hardback strikes and bounces off his shin like a rubber ball. He looks down, unimpressed by my quick thinking.

Or perhaps he's not an avid reader.

Picking up the book, he flicks through, staring at the pages as if he's never read before. Maybe he hasn't.

Tossing the book aside, he faces me. But I'm already running at him.

I jump up, propel myself toward him. Catching his cheek with my fist, I wrap my arm around his neck. Bring him down. His chin is almost resting on my knee, so I manoeuvre him into a headlock. He tries to break free, so I tighten my grip. He's six feet of pure power, brute force. An asteroid colliding with everything in its path.

Thank God I'm pretty much the same.

His leg catches mine, sending us rolling onto the floor. My back hits the carpet, jarring our shoulders. Alice seems to be psychically holding onto our mind, too terrified to let go.

Mr. Dark lashes out, but I constrict his body with my legs as much as I can. Be a snake, a killer cobra. That's the only way to survive.

As my hands slip and he tugs free, I start to grin. Despite the situation, I can't deny the fact that I'm enjoying myself. This is most fun I've had since the last time he tried to kill me.

Unhinged psychiatrist: I love it.

Mr. Dark moonwalks to his feet, pulling at the buttons of the Doc's shirt. He's trapped, I can see it clearly. Trapped in the mind of the most stoic man on the planet. Man? I know, I'm surprised too. I keep thinking the Doc' is an AI.

I throw the next punch, trying to sweep him at the same time. He parries my hand, dodges my leg.

He's good.

But I'm better.

Ducking his headbutt, I fall backwards on purpose, raising my legs to kick him in the chest. He stumbles, righting himself before I can land another hit. It's almost a dance. A very lethal, violent dance, but still. A dance.

Frowning, he lunges, headbutting me in the face. Black spots float in my vision, force me to the floor again. Mr. Dark reaches for the vase on the nearby shelf. He steps toward me, holding the ceramic above his head. I'm not sure if he's going to hit me or baptise me with it.

Licking my split lip, I start laughing. It's more of a deranged giggle if I'm being honest. And we all know how often I do that.

I prop myself up on my elbows, wait for the blow. I long for stars to obliterate me, for the blackness to douse the confidence I've spent these past three years building up. I won't let it come. I'll break that vase into tiny little pieces and blind him.

Mr. Dark is still holding the vase, staring at me. Staring. Unmoving. Shaking, I realise. His whole body is shaking. It could be adrenaline; it could be something else. Something else entirely.

I raise my head, nonchalant.

"So, are you going to kill me?" If he is, he'd better hurry up. I'm getting bored down here.

"I...I am undecided," he replies, the vase threatening the shatter in his white-knuckled grip. That's wonderful. Just great.

I'll stay here then, while he decides my fate.