When she entered the facility hidden beyond the woods, she was greeted by Rowan. He wore a different gold watch on his wrist, and his suit looked crisp and smelled brand new. He gave Vianne a cool smile as he shook her hand.

"Hello Vianne, it's nice to see you." He said, hiding his hands back into his pant pockets.

"Nice to see you, too." Vianne said quietly, barely making a smile.

Rowan gestured for her to follow him into the hallway. "I want to inform you that we're trying a new approach to the interrogations today."

Vianne raised her brows. "Oh."

Rowan cleared his throat. "I personally do not see the benefits of this change, but I guess Mrs. Davids thinks it'll somehow change the prisoners' perspectives."

"What are the changes?" Vianne questioned, swallowing hard. Vianne preferred to be notified about changes ahead of time so she could prepare herself accordingly, and being told minutes before her interrogation with Tom made her worry.

Instead of leading her to the elevator to the left, he brought her down a different hallway. The left wall was entirely made of glass, and it allowed Vianne to see the center court of the building. There were numerous metal tables scattered across the court, and diverse flowers and trees were planted all around. Vianne admired the purple iris flowers and the small wisteria trees, a small smile spreading along her features.

"I didn't know there was a garden here." she exclaimed. Rowan only shrugged, turning to face the window.

"Mrs. Davids thought it would be a good idea to take the criminals who are making the rehabilitation process difficult to the garden. She thinks a change of environment will do the trick. You'll also change your strategy with Marth as well; instead of trying to dig deep into his past you will open up with him about yours. Pull examples of your mistakes, your achievements, your kindness and sew it all together into an anecdote that will hopefully inspire him to become a better person...into someone like you. To implement good change, you must be equally honest with your patient."

Vianne shuddered. "You want me to tell him personal information?"

Rowan glanced down at her with quirked brows. "Well is there something you're hiding?"

Vianne shook her head. "Oh no, there isn't. It just seems strange to tell a murderer personal things about myself."

Rowan nodded, his expression turning stoic. "I think it's just strange in general to have a civil conversation with a monster." He paused, staring out at the wisteria with a deep fixation. "You know, this place was a mental asylum back in the nineteenth century during the western expansion years. The garden here was meant to calm its patients from such anxieties. It shut down a few years later as the project was abandoned, and a handful of the patients had escaped into the woods."

Rowan pursed his lips, grinning as he looked back at Vianne. "It's a fitting place for a rehabilitation experiment, don't you think? This place is haunted with false hopes for people who cannot ever change. No matter the efforts we good people try to make, some people just won't eat the food from the hands that try to feed them."

Vianne shrugged her shoulders, uncomfortably glancing at her reflection in the glass. "What happened to those patients out in the woods?"

Rowan sighed, checking the time on his gold watch. "They got lost. There were some efforts to find them for about a week, but the searches gradually stopped."

"That's too bad." She murmured.

"Don't feel sorry for them, they got themselves into that mess by running away in the first place. Anyway, it's almost time for your interrogation, I'll lead you to the garden."

They continued down the hallway and turned left towards two glass doors. Once they walked outside, they were instantly cradled by the cold air. The sky was devoured by a thick fog, and the greenery surrounding the two of them appeared more vibrant against such a dismal backdrop. Vianne took in a breath of crisp air, and sat down at one of the tables with Rowan sitting across from her.

"The alarm will go off in a few minutes. For precaution, Marth will be cuffed, and so will his feet. Guards will be posted in every direction in case something goes wrong."

Vianne nodded. "Okay."

Rowan clasped his hands together, the blue in his eyes sharpening as he looked around. The grey of his hair appeared bright white, and his skin was shadowed with deep lines. Rowan seemed more sickly out in the open than he looked inside the building.

"Do you have any other inquiries for me before I go?"

Vianne squirmed. She was curious as to why he told her that if the prisoners didn't show signs of any positive change that they would get rid of them permanently. Did that mean they would be killed? The dark tone of his voice seemed to insinuate that those who are unable to change would receive a dire fate, but it ultimately sounded too cruel for a government-funded project to do. Vianne shivered as she remembered Tessa being horrified by this news - was Vianne the only one who knew?

"Well," Vianne stated shyly, "when you told me that the prisoners who can't change will be executed permanently...what did you mean by that?"

Rowan's gaze hardened as he tapped his fingers against the metal table. "What I said is exactly what I mean, Vianne."

She shook her head slightly, her expression contorted into slight frustration. She hated it when people were vague with her, as if she was supposed to understand what another person was thinking. "But what does that mean? Will they be taken out of the program or will they...be killed?"

Rowan sighed, a small cloud of frost escaping his mouth. He remained quiet for a few seconds as the cold air tingled against their skin. A foreboding feeling crept up on Vianne as she shifted in her seat.

"Do you honestly think evil is necessary to balance the good of our society?" Rowan wondered, his chin resting in the palm of his hand. Vianne swallowed hard, her jaw clenched with growing vexation.

"I didn't ask for your philosophies." Vianne responded, her face flushed. Rowan only chuckled and ignored her comment.

"I don't. To achieve true happiness, why must one endure the evil of this world? Evil is a parasite."

Vianne couldn't help but scoff. "Are you going to answer my question?"

Rowan's smile slipped from his face. "I don't appreciate your attitude, Vianne. I really thought you were quite mannered for one of your kind."

"My kind?" Vianne asked, her skin growing hot, "Tell me what's going to happen to the people deemed unsalvageable."

The alarm blared, the red lights blinking on the walls. Vianne glanced at the glass window and saw numerous prisoners being guided by guards. She could hear the chains rattling against each other as they walked, and at the end of line she caught Tom's eyes. When he saw her, his mouth curved up in a chilling smirk. Vianne swallowed hard and looked back at Rowan with a frustrated stare. Rowan rolled his shoulders over and stood from his seat, straightening his suit.

"My answer was clear, Vianne. Will this information push you to work harder to save someone like Marth? Or does it comfort you to know the fate of a monster like him will be death? " Rowan inquired with a small smile. "I'll see you soon. And remember to be personal with Marth - maybe you two have more in common than you think."

Vianne clenched her hands into fists but said nothing. Rowan nodded to the guards as they walked outside, cheaply smiling at them like he personally knew them. Once he was out of view,  Vianne relaxed. She tucked her hair behind her ears and waited for Tom to sit across from her. The sound of chains rattling against each other grew louder from behind her, and by the sound of heavy and sluggish footsteps, she could sense it was Tom that was growing near her. Shivering, Vianne sat up straighter in her seat and reached for the notepad and pen from her pocket. She flicked her pen open once Tom sat down in front of her, his body relaxed as he gave her another smile.

"Hi Tom," Vianne said flatly. Tom acknowledged her by slightly nodding his head. "How are you feeling today?"

Perplexed, Tom raised his brows and shrugged. "I don't feel much nowadays."

Vianne nervously glanced at the two guards standing a couple feet behind him. She swallowed hard. "Do you have anything you'd like to talk about with me?"

Tom ran his hand through his dark, long hair. He chuckled at the thought, and leaned back to take a good look at Vianne. She silently watched as he lifted his hands slowly in the air, and shook them to make the chains roar louder as they clanged against each other. His mouth grew wide when he saw Vianne flinch at the sound.

"You still seem to be afraid of me even when I'm chained around my wrists and my ankles. I can't hurt you, you know," he said softly, "but then again, I can hurt you in other ways."

"Do you want to hurt me?" Vianne asked.

Tom chuckled. "I would never, my dear. I'm actually relieved to finally talk to you without the glass that separates us," his eyes trailed down to her hands, "and you're married I see."

Vianne folded her hands together to hide the ring from his sight. "Yes, I'm married."

"How long have you been married?"

"Two years." Vianne quipped, shivering at Tom's choice of topic.

Tom leaned forward. He was so close to her that she could see all of the bruises inked around his elbows. His eyes draped across her face, as if he was looking straight into her thoughts.

"You don't sound very excited, dear." He said darkly. Vianne's hands fidgeted on the table.

"Excited about what?"

Tom chuckled. "Don't play stupid with me."

Vianne sighed. "What makes you think I'm not happy to be married?"

Tom raised his brow, but said nothing. His gaze wandered around at the other tables full of more interrogation sessions. A few tables over Vianne spotted Ivy talking with a tall, slim guy. Tom must've caught her staring and turned to look over at the two of them.

"What's so interesting about them, Vianne?" Tom asked, chuckling. Vianne shrugged.

"Ivy said the man she was assigned to claimed he was innocent." She whispered, her thoughts growing back to Rowan's vague comments about the fates of some of these people. Tom took another glance at the man who seemed to be worried or concerned with their discussion before turning back towards Vianne with great indifference.

"No one is purely innocent, dear. We're all capable of heinous things; it's the natural order that society tries to curtail." Tom said, his mouth rising into a smile.

Vianne sighed. "Are you suggesting we are born wicked and with flaws? Like Hobbes once said?"

Tom chuckled. "We're all terribly corrupt. It's the way the universe works. We're not meant to be tolerant to things that we despise, we're not meant to be confined to societal conformities and regulations. The laws of this world smother the purpose of my entire existence; killing people brings me true happiness, Vianne. You'll understand that soon enough."

"I'm sure there are other things that can bring you happiness...things that don't hurt people. What are some of your hobbies that don't include violence?" Vianne asked, trying not to show how deeply disturbed she was. Tom leaned backwards, rolling his eyes towards the tops of the wisteria trees.

"That's not a fair question to ask, dear. I bet ninety nine percent of these people sitting here enjoy violence as much as I do." Tom said, his voice deepening into a hiss.

"Why do you think that?"

Tom scoffed. "Have you been living underneath a fucking rock? People love violence; it's embedded in our own DNA. People love watching sports, don't they? Don't they get so excited and riled up when they watch a man hit another so hard that they fall to the ground with their eyes rolling to the back of their head? Don't they cheer so loud that you can barely hear the person you're sitting next to? People love watching revenge stories, they love fighting sequences, they love gore because violence will always be a part of human nature. No one likes to admit how much our adrenaline runs when we watch men attack each other, because we want to believe violence is archaic and savage-like - as if it is a mere primal instinct we as humans obviously outgrew because we're so civil."

Vianne shifted in her seat. "Yes," she murmured, "I guess we have a...strange fascination with violence; in some ways it's entertaining. But even as we watch violent movies or sports, a majority of people do not act on these violent tendencies because we all have a moral consciousness. We know that violence can be hurtful to other people, so we follow our good morals and behave accordingly."

Tom leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. "But that's the thing, my dear, that's how society traps us."

Vianne shook her head. "Society doesn't trap us, we still have the freedom to choose our own actions."

Tom chuckled. "You're wrong there, Vianne. Some of us don't have the luxury to choose because I myself will choose wrong every time. I am a goddamn murderer - I like to kill. When you say we're free to choose, we're never really that free."

She sighed, growing annoyed. She needed to change the conversation topic, as Tom was only filling his mind with more violent thoughts, and she didn't want the discussion to escalate. Vianne tucked strands of her hair behind her ears and cleared her throat.

"Do you have any questions for me? Anything you'd like to know about me?" Vianne inquired, her hands fidgeting on her lap. Tom ran his hand through his hair, his eyes lazily browsing the garden's tranquil scenery. The garden had grown quiet, the others' conversations dropping to mere whispers. Some of the prisoners seemed to be stuck in a bored trance while the interrogators droned on about different topics, while others seemed to be arguing lowly. Vianne wondered if any of the interrogators were making any kind of progress.

Tom shrugged, finally locking eyes with Vianne after observing the scene around them. "Do you love your husband?"

Vianne went cold. "What?"

Tom chuckled darkly. "What's confusing you?"

Vianne swallowed hard. "I was just a little taken aback by your question. And um..." She trailed off. Vianne couldn't say that she loved Dante after what had happened. But even before the fight, had she ever really loved him?

A copper taste pervaded in her mouth. "Of course I love him. That's why I married him."

Tom smiled. "Okay. What do you love about him?"

Vianne felt sick. "He's nice."

Tom laughed out loud this time. "Is that it? Did you marry the first man that was nice to you?" 

"Look," Vianne started, her body growing tense,  "we can talk about anything else you'd like, but I'd rather not talk about my relationship with my husband right now. Do you understand?"

Tom crossed his arms over his chest, his brows furrowed. He stared at her with a deep look of wonder before smirking. "You hate him, don't you, dear? I have a quick and easy solution to that—"

Vianne stood abruptly from her seat, waving her hand for the guards to come over. "I'm done talking," she said, her hands shaking, "I don't want to talk to him anymore."

Tom watched as she took a step away from the table, amusement crinkling at the ends of his mouth. The two guards that stood behind him rushed forward, blocking Tom's view of Vianne.

"What's the problem?" One of the guards asked, while the other kept his vision trained on Tom.

"I am uncomfortable," Vianne said while attempting to control her uneven breathing, "I need a break from him."

The guard glanced over at Tom smugly, then glanced back at Vianne with an indifferent expression. "You get a break in twenty five minutes."

"I know, but I need one now." Vianne said, her voice harsh.

He shook his head. "We can only escort you away if the criminal threatened you or made a violent attempt towards you. Being uncomfortable isn't a valid reason."

Vianne clenched her jaw. "I'm only asking for a small break—"

"And you'll get one," he responded, "in twenty five minutes. So please, continue the interrogation with the criminal or I'll have to take you in to meet with Mrs. Davids herself for disobeying orders."

Tom laughed, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back to try to glimpse Vianne's face. "You're being a dick, officer."

"You can talk when you're spoken to." The guard sneered.

Tom's gaze hardened, and he stood up from his seat, looming over the two guards as if they were mere pests rather than predators.

"How about I kill you both right now instead, huh?" Tom hissed, the chains rattling as he took a step closer to them. The guards immediately backed away and drew their guns.

"Don't move!" They shouted, "Do not get any closer!"

One of the guards shielded Vianne by stepping in front of her, and the sudden yelling alerted everyone else in the garden. The other guards hovering near the other interrogations had taken interest, and they also pulled out their guns just in case something went wrong.

"Oh fuck you," Tom scoffed, "I'll do whatever the fuck I want."

"If you move any closer, I'm shooting!" The guard yelled, "sit back down right now!"
At that moment, Rowan had entered and quickened his pace towards the scene with his mouth gaped open. Tom glanced at Rowan and spat on the ground, his expression contorted into annoyance.

"Why is he here?" Tom muttered under his breath, locking eyes with Rowan as he stopped to stand next to Vianne. "Fucking opportunist."

Three more guards crept up behind Tom and pushed him so that he was lying against the top of the table. They took a hold of his arms and brought a taser to his side, to which Tom huffed at. The green in his eyes deepend as his gaze wrapped around Vianne's face. Vianne turned away from him to face Rowan's devoid expression, his eyes reflected grey under the silver clouds. She glared at him, her cheeks tinted red. "What are you doing here?"

Rowan raised his brows. "Excuse me?"

"You hate this...you told me rehab is a waste of time, so why are you here? Why are you telling me to get personal with Tom when you absolutely hate the idea of him being here?" Vianne demanded. She knew she might've stepped out of line by talking to Rowan with such intensity, but after the questions Tom had asked her, an uneasiness stirred within herself. Rowan's brows creased and he leaned closer to her, his eyes set ablaze with cold fire.

"I'm here to do my job, Vianne," he said lowly, "it doesn't mean I have to love what I do to get a paycheck."

Vianne clenched her jaw. "So that's all this is to you?"

Rowan scoffed, looking at her as if she had said an unfunny joke. "What else do you think it is? This isn't a damn charity case."

His eyes wandered back to Tom, who was being escorted back into the hallway. Distracted by the scene, Rowan walked past Vianne towards the officers, slightly nudging her with his shoulder. Vianne clenched her jaw,  hands pulled into fists as she watched Tom leave the garden with three guards. His shoulders drooped as he trudged carelessly alongside them, a bored expression settled on his face as the adrenaline from earlier vanished from his veins. It made Vianne feel sick to think someone could feel such a sweet rush at the thought of violence.

Vianne took a small breath in, glancing over at the other employees and prisoners at the tables, their gazes lingering on Vianne for a few moments before drawing back to their interrogations. The other officers huddled for a few minutes discussing protocol, but their words drowned into muffled buzzing as she remembered the argument with Dante from last night. The memory surfaced from the waters of her thoughts, and like an itch, she couldn't get rid of it. She wasn't sure where Dante was, and it irked her to think of the moment when he'd come back. Vianne shivered and took a seat on the bench, her skin growing cold. What would Dante do next?