[DIABLO]

"Diablo?" I half jumped at Lambert calling my name.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, opening his front door a bit wider. Come on, why couldn't he give me, what? Ten minutes to come up with something to say. I looked up at Lambert not knowing what exactly to say.

"Just come in," Lambert sighed, running his hand through his hair, before giving me a questioning look and heading into the house. I followed behind him, wondering what exactly my excuse was to be here was.

"What are you here for anyway?" Lambert asked stopping as we got to the small living room. I rubbed the back of my not saying anything. Well that, and just an excuse to see Lambert.

"I see. Sit anywhere you want. I'll get you something to drink," Lambert sighed, turning and leaving the room. I turned my gaze to the familiar living room, the warm colors coming in through the drawn windows and the shelf of books standing at each corner of the room.

I walked towards the lush sofas taking a seat on the single sofa. My gaze flicked towards the T.V. I shook my head deciding against putting it on. What I saw a week and a half ago still had me shaking. They found Zeus out, but how?

"Diablo." I heard Lambert call from the entrance of the living room. Turning I saw he was holding two glasses filled with juice.

"I hope apple's okay," he continued walking towards me as I nodded. I took a glass from him, watching him sip from his glass as I did the same. I felt the sofa sink a bit with his weight as he took a seat beside him.

"This is about Zeus, isn't it?" he asked, looking towards me. I nodded, shaking a little. It was. I couldn't take it all in on my own.

"I'm sure he'll get past all this," Lambert assured as he dropped his now empty glass on a side table.

"I'm not sure. What if he doesn't? I'm sort of directly involved..." I trailed, looking down at my half-filled glass. I knew what happened, what drove Zeus out of the house, what forced him to take a new name. I was serving in that house at the time and if anything I was a witness.

"Don't let it get to you," I heard him say as the feeling of his hand on my knee sent a familiar warm feeling through me. I tensed in surprise then calmed down. This is what I want, isn't it? I thought, turning to meet Lambert's gaze. This is why I came here.

"Sorry..." Lambert trailed, removing his hand.

"There is no need to be," I muttered turning away, already flustered by the small action. The room was plunged into an awkward silence. I tightened my hold on the glass, feeling tense, worried and scared all at the same time.

"I think you should leave..." Lambert trailed, getting up. I can't explain the pain and confusion that hit me all at once at that statement. He'd never said that — never meant it, at least.

"Diablo," Lambert called as he urged me to let go of the glass. I let go, watching him walk to the side to pick up his own from the side table. I bite my lips a little bit unsure of what I wanted to say, confess.

"Lambert."

"Huh?" Lambert answered, turning to me. His green eyes looked frustrated, and I felt a little guilty, being the cause.

"I—about that person that opened the door the last time I was here," I managed to get out without looking at him. I needed to know what their relationship was.

"What about him?" Lambert asked, making me sigh in frustration.

"What's he to you?" I asked, watching my feet with an absent look on my face.

"What? Can't an old man have a date?" Lambert chuckled.

"So, you're a pedophile?" I asked out of anger. I didn't mean it. He'd rejected me even without even knowing it. I could catch Lambert's confused gaze from the side of my eye. I tensed up feeling guilty. Why couldn't I ever handle things like an adult?

"Calm down Diablo, he was twenty-two," Lambert said, dropping the glasses on the side table before coming to take a seat beside me again. I could feel my heart race again, I couldn't ignore it anymore.

"Lambert," I called again turning to face him head-on. I gulped finding it difficult to meet his gaze. I'd admit one thing; I'm scared—very scared.

"What is it?" he asked, turning to face me.

"I—" I started, but paused as I started to shake out of the fear of rejection.

"What?"

"Can-can I stay over?" I said instead, turning away.

"Of course," I heard Lambert say as he got up to return the glasses. Hearing the door close behind him, I slumped on the sofa groaning at myself. What's wrong with me?

[LINDA]

He said he was coming. I thought, tightening my grip on my coffee mug in anger.

So he's started lying too, has he? I thought in irritation, taking a sip of coffee from my mug. Things have been unbearably quiet — distance. I can't even explain myself again; explain why I'm so desperate to have Julian back.

Maybe because you won't have anyone else.

A voice in my head reasoned. I scuffed, I don't need anybody.

Just a toy to control.

The voice continued. I held my aching forehead in search of calm. I have to stay focused. I can't reach that level of madness yet. My phone buzzed on the table making the empty flower glass shake with its movement. I rolled my eyes ignoring the call.

"Probably work." I reason, picking the phone and shoving it into the vase. I watched as the vase shook with more determination before it finally fell off the table to the white tiled floor exposing the phone that now had a completely shattered screen. I smiled a little glad that I wasn't the only thing breaking.

I got up from the dining table chair and headed out of the kitchen to the bedroom. Walking past the hall mirror I couldn't help taking a look at the person that stared right back at me.

Is this me? I wondered, looking at the pale lean woman in a nightgown.

Could this possibly be me? I continued to wonder as I touched the cool glass. Her eyes were bloodshot and dull, the skin around her exposed shoulders, legs and chest were decorated with tiny scars from the excesses scratching. Her hair was tangled in all places, when last did she take a bath?

All this because a man left you.

The voice continued making me turn away sharply from the unknown woman. That wasn't me. I need me back. I walked through the hallway until I got to the bedroom door. No, it reminds me too much of him. I decided walking away towards Julian's art room.

I opened the door slowly; a part of me scared Julian would turn back from his easel and laugh at me.

Don't be silly. He's not here, remember?

Clenching my fists I ventured into the room—a room so much like Julian, innocent and small—my perfect Julian. I wondered about, hugging myself, taking in the perfect yet plain painting of street scenarios and fruits. I paused remembering where he kept his sketches.

Venturing to his drawers I found his portfolio. I looked at drawing after drawing, all perfect but lifeless. I wondered about some more opening drawings and seeking the painting hiding other paintings behind them. And that's when I found a secret stash, painting after painting of the same man flowing with an emotional quality.

"Perfect aren't you?" I muttered in a rusty tone as I raised the canvas to have a better look. I resisted the huge temptation to tear up every one of them as I looked through the pile. I didn't need to get further away from Julian's good books like I already have.

I dropped the canvas hearing the sound of the doorbell.

Julian? I wondered, leaving the room half walking half running to the door. I didn't bother asking who was behind it before preying the lock open. I frowned, coming face to face with disappointment seeing a lean female figure in a white skirt and blazer suit.

"Hello, my name is Bachelor—"

"I don't want to hear it," I said, cutting her off as I attempted to close the door.

"Wait, listen!" she insisted, holding the door open with her leg.

"Why do I have to listen to you?" I asked, loosening my hold on the doorknob. She brushed past me rudely as she walked into the house without an invitation.

"I'm Mrs. Parthoropeons' Lawyer," she said as she dropped her suitcase on the dining table.

"So..." I trailed, walking towards the table. It was better to get this over and done with.

"Our intelligence traced the viewer report sent to the journalist to you," she continued, taking a sit. Her eyes wandered to the broken vase and phone on the floor.

"Accident," I said plainly, making her redirect her gaze to me. The view of me wasn't probably better.

"We want you to stand as a witness against Zeus," she finished, giving me a steady gaze.

"No." I decided quickly, taking the quarter mug of coffee from the dining table.

"What do you mean n—"

"No."

"We'll pay yo—"

"No."

"Why won't you help us?" she demanded, making me knit my brows in thought. Wasn't it obvious? I was tired and coming closer to the fact that I was being defeated- already defeated.

"Okay let's start from the basics. Why did you do it?" She asked turning the chair to face me directly.

"Do what?" I asked trying to be oblivious. The question was a painful one II wasn't willing to directly answer.

"Why? Why did you turn him in?" she continued to ask as I tightened my grip on the coffee mug.

"Was it to hurt him? Destroy him? Did he do anything to you we could use against him?" she continued asking.

"Shut up!" I screamed with every last drop of spite in me. Is it because her life was going perfect and smoothly that she could openly say things like that? Is it because her pretty little blonde face with a skilled done up bun had no care in the world? I watched as her eyes widened in confusion... fear.

I smiled, chuckling a little. It's been a while since anyone but myself felt helpless.

"Do you want to know why I did it?" I said, going to her chair.

"You want to know why I sabotaged his life?" I continued, bending to bring my head to the same level as hers. This close I could spot the fear she was skilfully trying to hide—resist.

"I did it because his life was bloody perfect and he still wanted more, wanted something from my life I was barely succeeding to grasp," I said, pressing the fairly hot mug to her neck. She tensed a little but didn't scream.

"Perfect people like you and him take everything, including the scraps in this life." I continued pressing the mug a little harder. She gasped this time.

"He took what belonged to me away!" I screamed into her ear, losing my calm.

"But you don't need to know what it took, it isn't a material object and it's none of your concern," I said, releasing the cup from her neck. She gasped and immediately tried to touch the burn mark.

"Don't touch it," I demanded, smacking her hand away. I looked at the burn mark, smirking at my masterpiece. I poked it with a sharp fingernail making her winch.

"I'll do it, I'll stand as a witness against Zeus," I said, a little sorry that the successful blonde-haired woman got a feel of my rant.

"You don't need t—"

"No, I insist," I said, bringing my hand to my chest, a little satisfied with the fear I had installed in her.

It's high time someone else felt helpless. I thought, helping her with her suitcase.

"Just so you know..." I trailed, dropping her suitcase at her so it landed on her lap.

"You're dealing with a very unwell person," I finished, smiling. I couldn't win Julian back but I can win myself back.