The sky was black. It was demolished by plumes of charcoal clouds, their wispy bodies mimicking the movements of smoke amidst a fire. Instead of bringing on a storm of flashing lights and deafening roaring, the clouds cried large, cold droplets of rain onto Hood River that Monday morning. It was supposed to continue raining for the rest of the week, the days swallowed by pitch black and cold wintry nights.

Vianne had ignored Dante for almost the entirety of the weekend. He stayed in the living room most of the time, sometimes wandering out into the small backyard to watch the rain fall. On Saturday night, he must've grown bored enough to grab his keys and head off into the night. Vianne didn't ask where he went the following morning, trying her best to remain aloof.

Before Dante could wake from his sleep, Vianne left early in the morning to get to work. It was so dark out that she needed to turn her high beams on as she drove through the dense forests to get to the facility, the trees casting frightening shadows as the white light danced across it's daunting atmosphere. When she pulled up to the building, she noticed that less cars were parked out front.

Maybe a lot of people quit over the weekend, Vianne thought as she threw her hood over her head. Once inside, she took a seat at the corner so that she was hidden from the hallway's viewpoint. She glanced around at the handful of workers waiting for the alarm to go off; all of them were focused on their phones, while others nervously tapped their foot against the floor repetitively. Vianne clasped her hands together on her lap and leaned back in her chair, seeing that she had at least a few minutes until the alarm.

After waiting for a handful minutes, she heard footsteps coming from the hallway. As they grew closer, another pair of footsteps grew louder, and then all at once, they stopped.

"Rowan," said the voice. Vianne peeked behind the corner to get a glimpse of Rowan and Jean talking in the middle of the hallway, curiosity filling her mind. Once she noticed Rowan move his head in her direction, Vianne quickly went back behind the wall, listening closely to what Jean had to say. "Almost all of the newly released prisoners have disappeared before we could set up supervision, and I've only heard about these problems this morning. Do you know anything about this?"

Rowan clucked his tongue, replying with an undertone of indifference.  "I do not."

Vianne could feel the tension between them slowly escalating. Jean sighed darkly, her voice cold. "You're my second in charge, I would expect some sort of urgency from you regarding these disappearances."

"Well, this is the first time I've heard about this," Rowan replied with the same amount of coldness, "what do you want me to do about it?"

"Nothing for now," Jean said, "I need you to enforce procedures like always. I can't let these disappearances reach the media, they'll just rip our rehabilitation experiment to shreds."

"And we can't let that happen," Rowan echoed, "the public generates their opinions from what they see on the news, and we all know the news bends the truth to stir drama."

"We can't afford any scandals, our work is too important." Jean said, a hint of worry spoiling the coldness of her voice.

"So what should we do?" Rowan asked.

Jean sighed again. "We have to find them before someone else does. I trust my employees that the ten who have disappeared are fit to be accepted back into society again. I'm sure they won't cause any harm- I only think that whoever finds them will be more likely to stir up trouble and controversy."

"Well, I hope we find them," Rowan said, lacking sincerity, "I must go now. I'll report to you if I hear any updates."

"Thank you." Jean replied. The sound of her footsteps grew distant, and Vianne could tell Rowan was walking towards the waiting area to give the usual announcements. Thinking about the disappearances of the newly freed clawed at her head; what will happen if the experiment shuts down? Will all of those incarcerated involved be sent back to jail and not given a second chance? She bit her lip, knowing that shutting the experiment down will also result in unemployment.

Soon, the alarm blared just as Rowan was preparing his summary about the procedures for those who were new to the job. Vianne glanced around if Tessa had arrived, but she was nowhere to be seen. Usually Tessa was always early, as she loved talking with Ronnie all of the time. Not seeing her only placed more stress onto Vianne's conscience.

Rowan tucked his hands into his pant pockets, a friendly smile plastered on his face. "Because of the weather, we've decided to bring the interrogations that were previously set in the garden back to the rooms. Remember, each session is forty five minutes long, and you'll be equipped with a notepad and pen for recording notes."

A man from across the room raised his hand. "How come the rooms are locked from the inside? What if there's an emergency?"

Rowan walked over to the man, his smile wavering. "Well, if there is an emergency, and somehow the prisoner broke through the unbreakable glass, we couldn't afford you running out just for the prisoner to escape along with you. You can see how that causes more complications, right? The guards posted at the end of the hallways have the power to unlock your door during the interrogations, but all doors unlock in unison with the alarm."

"Then why make that precaution if the glass is supposed to be unbreakable?" Vianne inquired, unable to help herself. Rowan looked at her, moving his jaw with slight annoyance. "Locking the interviewer inside with a violent person doesn't seem very smart."

Rowan raised his brow. "Would you rather risk everyone else's safety if the prisoner were to successfully escape?"

Vianne bit the inside of her cheek. "Well it wouldn't be a problem if the glass is unbreakable, right?"

Rowan's gaze hovered over Vianne for some time before he went back to his announcements. In the middle of Rowan's speech, the alarm blared and everyone gathered in the hallways to get to their assigned rooms. Vianne stood up from her seat, looking around once more for Tessa before deciding to follow the others.

Inside the interrogation room, she was greeted by the familiar smell of artificial lemon. Vianne flinched at the strong smell and sat down before Tom, her gaze avoiding Tom's eyes. The interrogations didn't seem so bad compared to what she had to deal with back at home with Dante.

"Hi," Vianne sighed, "how are you?"

Tom acknowledged her with the tilt of his head, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned back in his chair. He seemed more calm than the previous week, although there were dark rings that orbited around his eyes.

Vianne tucked some strands of her hair behind her ear. "Tom," she said quietly, "are you aware of the decision I have to make once our three weeks are over?"

Tom pressed the tips of his fingers to his lips, his gaze seemingly distant. "I know."

Vianne nodded. "So what do you want, Tom? Do you want to become someone better? Someone who can start over and choose good? Or do you want to die knowing that all you've ever done in your life was evil?"

Tom's eyes flicked over to Vianne, his fingers holding on to his chin. "If you decide I'm not fit to go back to society, then so be it. I'll go back to prison, and there I will die in peace."

Vianne shifted in her seat. "You won't go back to prison."

He quirked his brow, waiting for her to elucidate. When she didn't, he sat up straighter in his seat and narrowed his eyes. "Tell me then, dear. What will happen to me?"

Vianne swallowed hard. "You'll be killed."

Tom cackled, his smile wide and glowing. He stood up from his chair, the chains laughing along with him. Vianne brows furrowed as she stood up alongside him, confused as to what he thought was so funny.

"Why are you laughing?" She inquired as Tom stepped closer to the glass that separated them.

"Why am I laughing?" He repeated, running his hand through his long, black hair. "It's incredibly amusing to me. You see, I love to kill people. Shit, I thirst for it. They lock me in here because murder is against the goddamn law, and yet my punishment for doing something I love is death. They're going to kill me for killing someone else- that's what makes it so goddamn funny!" His smile disappeared. "They're hypocrites, Vianne, they're liars. They say murder is a sin and yet they kill people anyway. The government creates wars, they create genocides, they create poverty - they kill millions every year. They're all evil like me - that's the way it's supposed to be. They just get a pass while people like me get shamed. "

Vianne took a deep breath in. "So you're prepared to die? This is how it's going to end for you?"

Tom grinned. "Will you miss me, dear?"

Vianne clenched her jaw. "You don't fear death?"

Tom sighed, resting his side against the glass. "I'm not afraid of anything."

"I doubt that,"  Vianne quipped, stepping closer to the glass. "You have to be afraid of something. Fear is either your primary drive or your worst enemy."

Tom smiled at her, placing his hand on the glass. "When did you get so philosophical on me? It's cute."

She rolled her eyes at his teasing, moving farther towards the wall. She stopped walking when she spotted her reflection in the glass. "What are you afraid of?"

Tom shook his head slowly, his gaze locked onto Vianne as she stopped at the far edge of the glass.

"I told you dear," his voice dropped to a mere whisper, "I don't have any fears."

Vianne bit her lip, tucking more strands of her hair behind her ear. She crossed her arms over her stomach to keep her hands from fidgeting.

"Why don't you?"

Tom shrugged, working his jaw. "How about you, dear? What are you afraid of?"

Vianne didn't need to think about it too closely, for the lies slipped out of her mouth too easily this time. "I have fears most people have. I fear the dark...bugs..."

Tom raised his brow, taking a few steps towards Vianne. "Most people fear being alone. People who hate loneliness are naive, as they'll stick with anyone who gives them attention, no matter if they're bad for them or not."

Vianne swallowed hard. "Where did you learn about that?"

Tom shrugged again, his gaze looking into the glass. "Nowhere."

She glanced from Tom back to her reflection in the glass, her heart rate slowly climbing. "Do you know anything about the process for when someone is freed from here?"

"They told us we would have supervision for one month before being permanently cleared. That's all I know of," he paused, "I'm surprised you didn't know this, dear. You do work here."

Vianne bit the inside of her cheek, contemplating telling Tom about the conversation she heard between Jean and Rowan. Tom couldn't have known anything about the disappearances, but she wondered if he knew who the newly freed were and if they had any ulterior motives once released. She glanced up at Tom only to find he was watching her intently.

"Tom," she said quietly, the topic of the disappearances trembling upon her lips. He narrowed his eyes, his mind already working. He nodded, signaling he was waiting to hear her question.

Vianne stopped, a chill crawling along her skin. "Are they listening to us right now?"

Tom raised his brow and turned his body back and forth to look around the room, his arms swaying with him so that the chains rattled against each other. It almost seemed like he was mocking her for asking such a paranoid question. She immediately regretted it, as she clenched her jaw with frustration.

Tom stopped and looked at her with a small grin, leaning back on to the glass. He chuckled at the look Vianne was giving him, and he wiped at his bottom lip with his thumb to muffle his snickering. "The coast is clear, Vianne."

"You're being facetious." Vianne said flatly.

"No come on, dear. You can tell me what's on your mind. I'd love to hear it." He smiled, crossing his arms over his chest. Vianne watched him closely, wondering what advantages he will get if she told him about the disappearances. Would he spread it to the other prisoners? Would they all grow suspicious of the program and attempt to boycott it? Such news about people going missing from the experiment wouldn't be taken very lightly.

And things would get worse if they do tape our conversations, Vianne thought, they would surely know I would be the one at fault for letting sensitive information loose.

"I was just wondering if they recorded our conversations so we can go back through them and prepare for future discussions. That's all." Vianne said, masking the lie with some truth. Tom eyed her for some time before dismissing her comment completely.

"Vianne," he sighed, walking away from the glass back to his chair, "tell me something about yourself. Like, what makes you angry? Or, how long can your patience stand?"

Vianne shrugged, disliking the choice of topic. "I'd rather not."

"Why?" Tom inquired, "why can't I ask you questions?"

"Because I am your interrogator." Vianne replied as she too walked back to her seat. Tom grinned at her, relaxing back into his chair.

"Well," he started, "if you compare both of our rooms, it's hard to tell which is designed for the prisoner and which is for the interrogator. We both have a chair, a makeshift desk out of the wall, and a locked door. I could very well be interpreted as your interrogator, don't you think?"

Vianne tilted her head. "You have chains around your wrists and I don't. That's the difference."

"True," Tom agreed, "but you are just as obligated to be here as I am."

Vianne shook her head. "I chose to apply for this job. This whole project is designed to give the incarcerated a second chance-"

"Vianne, this project is going to run down into pure shit. How can you not see that?" Tom cut in, working his jaw as he watched her for a response. She swallowed hard, looking to her notepad to avoid his hard stare.

"Why do you think it'll fail?"

He chuckled at her obliviousness. "Because no person can ever really change who they truly are...who they were born to be. Innate evil is in every single one of us - you can't erase something that's embedded in your fucking DNA...you can only hide it. And that's what most people do, Vianne, they wear different masks to appease different audiences, but at the end of the day they're the same person with the same characteristics and flaws."

"What do you consider to be flaws? Because to me I'd say a thirst for murder is definitely a cruel flaw, but you seem to think otherwise." Vianne asked, directing the conversation elsewhere. Tom scoffed, leaning farther back in his chair.

"Flaws are weaknesses. Take naivety, for example," he gave her an odd look as he started his explanation, "naivety makes you think there's good in everyone. That's when you become too trusting and dependent on others. It makes you a weak-minded person...completely blinded by your own wishes to truly see the selfishness and cruelty of what we humans are naturally born with."

Vianne clenched her jaw. "You think I'm naive?"

Tom remained quiet, the green in his eyes shining against the artificial white lights. He drummed his fingers against his wrists, the chains rattling lowly. He cocked his head to the side, and released a heavy breath. "No,"  he said softly, "I just think you might be falling victim to it."

She shifted in her seat, her blood growing hot in her veins. "You think I'm naive for believing there are good people in this world? I don't think believing in human kindness is a flaw, and it's certainly not naive of me to think that."

His face twitched, anger slowly seething beneath his skin. "I think it's naive of you to see good in a person when it's not really there."

Vianne stood up from her chair, her heart rate spiking. The blood rushed to her cheeks as shock pervaded around her system. She couldn't help but connect everything he was saying during their conversation to Dante, and those small implications slowly built up until it ignited all of her feelings at once. "Cut with the bullshit. Stop bringing my husband into this! You keep hinting that I'm not happy with him every time we meet, and I'm getting so sick of it."

Tom smirked, standing up alongside her. "Sick of what, dear? Your husband?"

Vianne clenched her fists at the sight of his smile. "You know what I'm talking about."

"Well, you are the one who keeps bringing up your husband. I haven't mentioned him at all in our conversation, and I have never implied that your marriage wasn't going smoothly." Tom replied.

She shook her head, her hands shaking by her sides. She couldn't wrap her mind around the fact that she was the one who constantly tied Dante with everything Tom was saying. Maybe she had always been insinuating that she wasn't happy with Dante all of this time - could that have been it? She clenched her jaw, her glare wavering.

"Well?" Tom asked, "why do you hate him? Why aren't you happy?"

Vianne shivered as Tom's eyes darkened, itching to hear what she had to say. But she didn't know why she wasn't happy with him before their fight. She loved Dante, and yet she couldn't quite grasp that euphoria she held when she first met him. At this point, she knew their relationship wouldn't be the same after the incident, and she didn't know if it could ever be healed.

"I don't know," Vianne muttered to herself, looking at her scared reflection in the glass, "I don't know."