Rain tapped against the window and added a nice background to the music that Annabel was playing from her cellphone. "Sister" by The Japanese House radiated calmly from the tiny speaker and lulled Annabel into a sleepy state.

She had been in the hospital for longer than she cared for, but at least it gave her an excuse to leave the real world and not particularly care for anything else.

The story that Harry had given the nurses was partially true, but only she and Harry knew that. Everyone else believed it to be one-hundred percent and, so, they were monitoring her just to be sure that she wouldn't try to kill herself again after she left.

It had only been two days, they could only keep her for one more, and she was hoping that they decided she was well enough to go back to her life instead of a psych hospital.

Harry walked in without a word. He pulled a chocolate bar from his coat pocket and carefully threw it on Annabel's bed so that it landed on her stomach.

Annabel looked at him curiously, her fingers quick to retrieve the delectable treat. Harry shrugged, "Hospital food is shit."

Annabel was more surprised with the fact that he'd come to visit her again. They weren't friends and they weren't lovers, so it didn't make sense to her.

"A lot of things are."

Harry stared at her for a moment before nodding. Annabel watched as his lips parted and then closed again. He wanted to say something, that much was obvious, but she wasn't going to ask him what it was. If he wanted to say it, he would.

"You said you liked that red. Why?"

Annabel stared at him for a long moment. She admired the way that his lips formed his words and wrapped around them seductively and she admired the deep colour of his eyes that seemed to change with his moods and what he wore.

"Same reason that you like it. It was rich, beautiful, and heavy with all of the things that cloud my mind. I felt weightless and peaceful."

Harry's green eyes stared into her dark ones for a long moment before he shook his head, "No, it's different when its yourself. Red isn't beautiful when it's your own."

Her gaze didn't falter in the slightest, "It is when it's mine. There is no place darker than the mind when it is left alone, you should know that."

Harry left like a breeze. He didn't say hello when he came and he didn't say goodbye when he left.

Annabel picked at her bandages and thought of his eyes. She didn't see colours the way that he did, he noticed them but he loved red, she ignored them and liked dull colors like blue and gray. Granted, red was an exception and now the other exception was the enticing green of his eyes.

She liked how there was always something different about them. When it was cold out and when he wore certain light colors, his eyes were light and pretty like sea glass and, when he was aroused and when he wore dark colors, his eyes were vibrant and dark, just like the forest he'd begun to frequent.

The hospital released her the next morning and she immediately went to the forest. Harry wasn't there, but she didn't mind, the atmosphere is what interested her the most. It was beautiful and threatening all at once.

Propped up against a lively tree, Annabel set her mind free. She didn't think about anything and she let the earth and the atmosphere consume her. Leaves crumpled under shoes nearby, but she didn't open her eyes.

Harry had found her just like she knew that he would. They were strange like that, always being able to find one another without really looking at all.

Instead of sitting beside her, Harry sat directly across from her. Their eyes met for a brief moment and the wind pushed their hair in wild directions. Neither one said a word and neither one made a move to look away.

Anyone who saw them would think that they hated each other or that they were complete strangers that happened to be at the same place at the same time. Harry and Annabel hardly ever spoke to one another, there simply wasn't a need to. They understood each other even under the veil of silence.

Ten minutes had passed before Harry spoke casually against the busy sounds of nature, "You should be resting."

Annabel replied smoothly, "I am."

The two sat in silence until the sun started its descent and left elongated shadows behind like lost balloons. Annabel spoke first this time, "You said you didn't mean to. Why?"

Harry maintained eye contact, "You're supposed to be my accomplice, not another experiment."

Annabel raised an eyebrow, he'd never hinted or said anything about involving her in his hobby, "Accomplice?"

There was the slightest trace of a smile on her lips and Harry's expression mirrored hers, "Yes."

By now, the sun had nearly disappeared, the temperature dropped a noticeable few degrees, and the darker side of the forest had come to life. Goosebumps dotted Annabel's arms, but she didn't seem to notice and Harry wasn't going to mention it.

"I don't even know how you do it."

Again, he shrugged. It didn't matter if she didn't know how to do it or how to get away with it, those things he could teach her. What mattered was that she kept silent about the things that he did.

"I can show you."

Harry pushed himself up with his hands and the help of his legs. He didn't say anything, but he did send a wicked smirk in her direction as he started to walk back in a different direction than the one he had originally came from.

Annabel continued to watch him, but she made no move to follow him. Harry noticed this and stopped walking after only a few long strides. He turned around to face her with a wicked glint in his eyes, "You coming?"

She debated following him for a moment, not because she was afraid, but because she was comfortable where she was and she didn't particularly want to leave. Harry looked at her for a moment longer and she decided that she would go, his eyes matched the forest and that was enough to make up her mind.

Her wrists ached as she used her hands to push herself up and off of the ground, but she welcomed the feeling and followed him silently. They walked side by side for five minutes before she broke the silence, "Paraphilia and and odaxelagnia."

Harry turned his head to the side and looked at her with a perplexed and curious expression.

Annabel grinned, "That's what we have. Paraphilia is a sexual desire usually involving dangerous activities and odaxelagnia is a paraphilia involving sexual arousal through biting or being bitten."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him poke his tongue out to wet his lips as he thought about it.

"Interesting."

Twigs snapped and leaves crunched beneath their feet. An owl hooted a fair distance away and another breeze sent their hair in wild directions.

"Have you done it since?"

Annabel didn't explicitly have to name what she meant for Harry to understand. He exhaled and it almost sounded like a sigh, "No."

She wouldn't ever admit to it, but something about the fact that he hadn't been with other women since he hurt her made her feel important and stirred a strange feeling in her chest.

The remainder of their walk passed in silence, only the sounds of the forest and the crunch of leaves as they were crushed by their shoes accompanied them.

Annabel had never been to Harry's place before and she was surprised by how nice it was. For some reason or another, she pictured him living in a dilapidated box somewhere at the edge of town. What she saw surpassed her expectation by miles.

Harry lived in a nice two story house at the edge of the woods. Annabel admired the large glass windows that framed the back and provided a breathtaking view of the forest they spent so much time in. The house had immaculate furniture and an artistic feel.

It was welcoming and not at all dark and she wanted to remain there forever, even if she knew what went on behind closed doors.

Harry chuckled lightly as he pulled two bottles of water from the fridge, "You can stay if you want."

Annabel looked at him with a raised eyebrow as he handed her the second water bottle, "Really?"

He shrugged in response, even though he wanted her to stay because sometimes being in his house alone felt suffocating. "Yeah."

Harry didn't elaborate and started toward the stairs. Annabel followed, she was curious to see the rest of the house and to hear how he conducted his hobby.

At the top of the stairs, he stopped and pointed to the open door on the right, "Guest bedroom."

Harry walked down the hall and into the next open door, it was on the same side of the hall, but this time it was on her left instead of her right. Annabel had looked inside the other room for only a brief moment and she knew that he conducted his business in there.

There was nothing to give it away, everything was clean and it looked normal with trinkets spread around and nice paintings. But Annabel knew because she could feel it and because it was too clean. She could faintly smell the ammonia among other scents that gave it away.

The next room was his. Everything was clean for the most part, his bed wasn't made and the sheets were crumpled and a few articles of clothing were scattered around the floor. Annabel noticed the dark tones and photography immediately.

It didn't surprise her, but she admired his decor tremendously, her dark eyes drinking in the dark colors and still photography. Harry sat on the edge of the bed and watched her as she absorbed his personal space.

He hadn't expected her to be so intrigued with anything of his, he was strange and everyone had always told him so. The women he brought back liked some things, but not as much as Annabel seemed to and he found that he liked the way Annabel's eyes roamed slowly from place to place.

Eventually, she turned to face him and asked, "I thought you were going to show me."

Harry nodded and trailed his eyes over to the desk, where his sketchbook spilled it's contents to whoever happened to look upon them. Annabel stared at him questionably for a long moment before turning her attention to the open book.

She'd been attentive to the photographs that lined the walls, but she was entirely absorbed with the sketchbook that held all of his secrets. Every page was coated with ink or graphite, a beautiful and haunting image ingrained on each sheet.

Clearly, he did like to experiment frequently and he certainly wasn't as nice to the other women as he had been to her. Harry lured women in with his good looks, deep voice, and a false pleasant attitude and then he killed them when they were at their most vulnerable state.

It was clever and morbid and Annabel was intrigued, her fingers tracing over lines and flipping pages with a keen interest. She stopped when she found a sketch of herself. He drew from his perspective with every other drawing and this one was no different.

Harry had drawn her with slightly widened and glazed eyes, blood dripping from her wrists, soaking the sheets and staining her skin. But what surprised her was that he had drawn his hands giving her stitches and closing the wounds that he had given her.

Annabel didn't turn around to face him, but she knew that he knew which sketch she was looking at.

"You missed a few."

Harry didn't know what he had been expecting her to say, but it certainly wasn't that.

"Rough estimate. I'll fix it later."

Annabel ran her fingers over the ink one last time. She turned around and walked over to where he sat. Harry watched her curiously as she sat on his lap, her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck.

"I'm not them."

Harry nodded, "You're not them."

Annabel pressed herself against him and kissed him hard. Harry didn't resist, his hands moving to the middle of her back and pulling her impossibly closer.

For thirty minutes, they made out heavily. Annabel wasn't up for sex because she wanted him to hurt her, but infections were bad and she didn't feel like dealing with one. She settled for letting him eat her out and then giving him a blowjob.

He told her that she could stay again and she accepted the offer because she didn't feel like walking home and because she really liked his house.

Annabel had gone to bed in the guest room and Harry, of course, slept in his room.

It was around three A.M. when Annabel shot up in bed, gasping for air. Something about the room made her uncomfortable all of the sudden and she didn't want to be in there anymore.

Harry was sitting in bed, wide awake. He looked at Annabel curiously as she climbed into bed beside him. Annabel waited until she was comfortable to reply, "I don't like that room."

Maybe it was knowing that he slept with other women in that room, or maybe it was knowing that he killed the other women in that room, whatever it was, she didn't elaborate.

Annabel kept her distance and curled up in his blankets. They smelt like him and it was oddly comforting.

Harry closed his book, shut the light off, and sank into the blankets as well.

"What are you afraid of, Annabel?"

She made no move to face him, "Falling in love."

Harry hummed in response and turned to face the window, "Me too."