I hiked up my skirts and ran up the grand staircase in Kristopher's mansion at full speed, leaving the glittering lights and happy sounds of the ball behind me. Sure he had some business to attend to, but that was no reason to leave your fiancé alone at a ball. I fingered my necklace vicariously, remembering the tender moment he gave it to me. I flipped the large teardrop emerald over and played with the fancy words inscribed on the back. ‘To my Emma. So sweet and so possessive.’ I stopped at the top of the staircase hesitating slightly.

My sweet memory was betrayed by the nagging of my capture years before. I shook my head slowly, trying to clear my thoughts. Things had changed now, I was his and he was mine. I walked down the hall carefully, adjusting my dress and hair to perfection on my way to his office. He never liked me less than a work of perfection when around his clients. He wanted to show what a lovely beauty he had captured in the heart, body, and soul; not a mess of sticky hair, and disheveled clothes from running. He was my handler in all aspects and my god, I worshiped his beauty. I could never live without him.

I heard soft whispering and noises trailing down the hall but it was to faint to make out exactly what it was. He had many clients like this before, where his business was not to be interrupted. I stopped inches from the door handle, my mind warning me of his anger, a growl from Kris decided it and I turned the handle gently so it would open without a noise. I pushed slowly and stopped with it barely opened an inch. My mouth dropped, tears slowly streamed down my cheek as to what I had just witnessed. Despite myself, I put my eye to the crack.

Kris was bent over a woman with light brown skin and hair of flames, his body clinging to her naked one, as soft moans escaped his lips. I waited for the moans of hers to join in, to hear the betrayal beat against my ears. Instead I heard nothing, finally, when he moved his head a little the moon reflected off the tears on the girl’s face. My eyes trailed down her arm to the place where she gripped the desk, so tightly it looked like her fragile fingers were going to break any given moment. That’s when I finally understood the shackles glinting in the moonlight, so familiar. I wrapped my hands around the scars instinctively rubbing the same spot. My mind remembered the abuse and this time there was no sugar-coating it with a fond memory. I was not his first captive; I had not changed him from his ways. It was a game to him, a sick sadistic game. I pushed open the door quickly and ran at him with all the strength I had and pushed. The large window behind him shattered with a deafening amount of noise and I opened my eyes to stare straight into his dark seductive ones that had held me for so long. His feet were right on the edge, his face in shock at the sudden invasion. His sinister eyes glared into mine, the evil glint I had faked myself into believe was a loving one, it was a sad reminder of this monster that stood before me. He put his hands to his stomach where a piece of glass was glistening out, between his back, straight through to his stomach.

“You Shouldn't Have Betrayed Me,” I stepped forward and kissed his lips. Then slowly, ever so slowly, I pushed him from the window. I didn't watch his body fall, but I heard the sick thud of his body hit the ground as I untied the poor girl who was a shadow of what I used to be. I didn't say a word and neither did she as I walked out of the office, making myself presentable. I went past the loud noise to the music hall where nothing had gone abash since my happy ascent of the stairs a few minutes ago. There was no illusion as I walked through the empty decorative halls, my shoe soles clipping and ringing down the marble. When I reached the door, I pushed it open with a vigor I had forgotten I possessed. Taking a deep breath I walked until I found the spot he had fallen to. I looked in satisfied horror at the mangled mess and only then noticed the stone covered in fresh blood and the freshly dug grave in front of it, the headstone engraved fancily. ‘To my Emma.’

Not this time.