| in a different place, in a different time |

SHE WAS POSITIVE that outside the windows, the dead night had grown several shades darker. And long ago. The silver moon had turned black, and all the stars plunged into hiding, glittering white dots now cloaked beneath the thick veil of midnight clouds.

As expected, all of them had fallen short, as the digress was nothing—not even an atom—in comparison to the shift in his eyes.

She had messed up. She knew she had messed up really bad.

With another forceful yank of her hair from his unrelenting grasp, she whimpered. She would rather have screamed, but she had done that already. Desperately, and repeatedly.

Still, it changed nothing. Thinking about it, she realized nothing had ever really changed.

And now, her voice was long gone.

"Y-you know how much I love you," she croaked. The pain was unimaginable, rippling through every part of her body. Like open flames gently licking at first, before erupting into scorching wildfire that only ate away at every inch, and every facet that made her up. "You know it."

"Shut up!" In a swift motion, his rough palm met her cheek in a destabilizing slap. Her head swung to the side, and she couldn't help it when she spat out the blood. There was already so much crimson everywhere; it stained her dress, her face, and of course, his hands. "Love? You don't love me! How could you? How could you fucking do it, you filthy whore!"

She figured she was crying, but the tears just didn't come out. And if they were flowing...well, she sure as hell couldn't feel them anymore.

"I'm sorry," she hiccupped. Afterwards, she sucked in a harsh breath amidst all the aching. Everything hurt—it hurt too much. "I'm sorry. B-but I swear I love you...more than anything. Now and—"

"Don't you dare!" His thundering voice cut her off. The sight of her broke his heart. She broke his heart, into a million irreparable pieces.

And it was why he was going to break her.

__________

The night grew even darker, as his body continued to tremble—as he pulled her bloodied face closer to his. The memories weren't memories just yet. They couldn't be, when it all just happened. He could see himself pulling her, ripping her white nightdress, and dragging her like a putrid animal across the room.

It all just kept on playing—like a haunting series put on indefinite repeat. And he knew deep within, that these clips would play on for the rest of his life. It didn't matter if he willingly watched, or his eyes were forcefully pegged open to see.

He was beastly; it had always been a part of him, and that much they were both aware of. But she wasn't supposed to be his prey. Not her. Even if he made the mistake a few times, it was never supposed to be her.

She was meant to be untouchable.

But now, in a single moment—she wasn't.

Her bottom lip quivered, and she groaned from the pain. He only kept moving her.

He saw his face, clear as day through her eyes. Her currently glassy eyes that held so much love for him. Even now, he could see it.

But he didn't want to. It had to be a lie. It had to be one of her many, pretty lies.

Just like the one killing them both now.

With the thickest fog in his throat, he leaned down, the tears falling from his eyes as they cascaded down his cheeks. He pressed his lips against her hairline, and on both her eyes.

And then, he kissed her lips. It was a different kiss. He felt it, and so did she. Their lips meeting this time wasn't romantic, or laced with love. It didn't make her knees weak, or breathe life into his lungs.

All he could taste really, was her blood.

She still wanted to reach him. Despite it all, she still only found herself wanting with every ounce of her being, to save him.

Just like she always did.

Slowly, he pulled away, arching his body so he could get his arse off the floor. Now balanced on his knees, her head was wedged between his hands.

He looked into her eyes, and saw what he expected to.

Fear. Panic. Dread.

But that wasn't the jarring part. It was the fact that finally—finally, it seemed as though they had begun to see the same thing.

He welcomed his urge right then, and so precise that it was shocking, his grip moved to her neck. His fingers tightened their hold, and she yelped from the pain. She begged him without words, with the tears falling from her eyes to please just stop. To please just clean her up and apologize; to kiss her better.

But he didn't want to.

It was too late, and she had made her choice. He gave her everything, but she simply hurled them all back at his feet. She let him down. Badly.

So, no. He didn't want love anymore. He didn't want an ounce of her light—the beams she always tried to sneak into his life, and his heart.

He didn't need her anymore.

And the realization of that fact was the click.

Her eyes widened; she started to choke. In futility, she began attempting to claw at his fingers.

She could barely even move. Why didn't she ever know when to stop trying?

The broken sound of his name escaping her lips didn't bring him back. Her tears didn't bring him back. Nothing from her did.

And it really was sad, because she was the only glimmer of hope either of them had. The only streak of light beaming through dark thunderclouds.

But now, it was all just dark, and the storm was descending. Rain pouring in torrents, as though punishing the earth with an age-long vendetta.

At this point, the both of them could have nothing.

Because she didn't even have herself.

Remember, she silently pleaded with him. Please remember you love me.

Time went on as the seconds ticked, and even the clock wished it didn't have to submit. It wanted to freeze her in existence; to preserve her. If she had to live in this moment forever, at least there would still remain the slightest trace of air in her lungs.

Still, all of that was wishing to the wind, as he only increased his pressure. He squeezed harder and harder, and her eyes slowly began to roll into the back of her head. The soul pulling shade of her irises—what always reminded him of the depths of the sea; it all surrendered to him. Along with all the feelings their owner evoked.

And then, he heard her final sigh. A resolute, but vain attempt to reach for life.

Her hands slowly dropped, and so did the rest of her. But he was ready. He was ready to hold her; to keep her close to him before her head met the ground.

She was still staring, and their gazes were still in lock. But he knew. He knew that now, she had started to see things beyond him.

He felt himself die, everything seeping out of him along with her. The hurt burned like gallons of undiluted acid melting down his throat, making a distorted mess of all his inner members.

And then, he let out a guttural sound—almost inhumane, as he cradled her frame in his arms. The life was draining from her, and he felt it. She had become a poorly lit candle on the lamp stead, the harsh opening of the windows, exposing her to the blizzard raging outside.

Still, he did it. He did it, and perhaps, this was how it was always meant to be.

Because people like him didn't get happy ever afters. People like him weren't saved, or changed for the better. He was not her hero, nor was he her protector. And he had seen all of this for the truth it was long ago.

For her though, it had always been such a shame. A shame how easy it was to gauge your own eyes out, just so you could embrace the darkness. A shame how easy it was to choose to be so, so blind.

But then again, wasn't that what life was? It was always warm sheets over cold ones, familiar lips grazing earlobes over buzzing alarm clocks. Or perhaps it was simply another heart to share yours with. Either way, people always ended up choosing other people.

And for her, the choice was always one and the same.

Him.

__________

The night had grown it's darkest. There were no shades left to fill.