Silence droned across the interrogation rooms, its invisible body encapsulating the freezing air and thickening as the ticking from the clock hanging from the wall went mute. The white lights above Vianne grew glacial, the embers of warmth floating away from Vianne's chest and surrendering to gravity. She was standing in the middle of the interrogation room, her body stiff and unmoving. Across the glass barrier stood Tom, his wrists chained together and his emerald eyes frolicking with intense callousness. His jaw was clenched tightly, the bones in his face protruding slightly to shadow the soft skin underneath his eyes so that he looked more like a rotten skeleton than a live being. They stared at each other for some time, the hands of the clock moving at a lethargic pace as the quiet gliding over them kept growing thicker and thicker, the pressure incessantly building across the empty space.

Vianne shuddered slightly, gasping for a quick gulp of air as she felt her organs begin to collapse within her, the pressurizing, invisible force weighing over her body like a thousand tons. Tom, in the room over, made no sign that he was in any kind of pain; he watched idly, eyes narrowed into thin slits as he began to speak. But Vianne could hear no words escape his mouth— his blood-stained lips moved with ease but she could not understand a word he was saying.

"I can't—" Vianne stopped. Water pooled at her feet, slipping from the crack underneath the door. She gasped at its icy touch, the waters rising at an unexplainable rate, climbing higher and higher towards the ceiling. Vianne sucked in a deep breath of air, submerging into its blue expanse and watching as Tom took a step closer to the glass. The water had filled the entirety of the room, and she could feel the strands of her hair encircle her head like a halo, her clothes wavering like ripped sales from sunken ships, her skin pruning rapidly as if she were a watery corpse. She looked to Tom in the next room and eyed his cynical smile, her vision spotted with black dots as her lungs were being crushed from the pressure. He tapped once on the glass with the tip of his finger, and within an instant, the glass shattered.

Waves of water burst into the next room. She gasped for air, pieces of glass scathing the surface of her skin as she was suddenly grabbed by the forearm and into the next room over. Surprisingly, Tom's room was drenched in water but it barely filled to his knees. He pulled her into his room, his demeanor stiffening as he leaned close to her. She could feel the angry heat radiate off of his skin, the sharpness of his breath as his mouth hovered next to her ear. As he opened his mouth to speak, the world went black, flickering from darkness to bright white light then back to grey— she was stuck in grey matter, not quite pulled into the darkness nor into the shimmering light. She was stuck in the monochrome world of nothingness until she was pulled from her nightmare and back into reality.

———

Vianne entered the interrogation room with her gaze trained onto the floor. When she took her seat at her desk, her expression remained stoic as she clasped her hands together, the aroma of winter following in her footsteps and mimicking her movements just as her shadow does in the daylight. The deep, warm hickory of Vianne's eyes had decayed over night, the strips of spotted colors withering away like the tree bark of a dying tree. She had spent the entirety of the night cleaning the house spotless, and it took her a full hour to cut Dante into pieces to fit him inside the fridge as well as the freezer. The process was difficult, but oddly enough, Vianne didn't mind how disgusting it was; all she was focused on was covering up what she had done.

She faced Tom without any fear, the anxiety that she had always dealt with since she was young miraculously gone. Her freezing gaze lingered over Tom for some time, the air within the room crisp and thin. All she felt now was nothing.

Tom adjusted himself in his seat, green fire burning in the depths of his eyes as he cocked his head to look at her. "What? No 'hello' or 'how are you' today?"

Vianne blinked, her expression devoid of any emotion. She simply stared back at him, catching a glimpse of her own reflection in the glass. She barely recognized the person staring back at her; her eyes were hollow, dark rings permanently tattooed just below them and her lips chapped and pale. Small streaks of white hair contrasted the dark brown of her long curls, and the warmth of her skin had lost some of its color from the cold.

Tom crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes calculating as his gaze trailed across Vianne. He leaned forward in his chair, the green in his eyes glittering underneath the harsh, white lights.

"There's something different about you." he said lowly, his voice dark and raspy. Vianne nodded, taking in a deep breath and refusing to say anything. Tom's eyes narrowed, his mind already processing the situation as it was out of character for Vianne to be the one to ignore him. After a few moments of eerie silence, Tom leaned farther in his seat.

"I think I know what it is," Tom whispered, a perturbing grin sliding across his face, "does it have to do...with your husband?"

Vianne licked over her lips, leaning her elbows onto the table in front of her. Silence. Tom clucked his tongue, a chuckle escaping his mouth.

"You killed him, didn't you, dear?" Tom said, excitement running wild in his eyes, his mouth curved up like he had just received his favorite toy on Christmas. He didn't need her to confirm his theory, as it only took him a few seconds to see something was immensely off about her. He knew how to get inside her head, and the very thought of shattering Vianne's entire livelihood made his blood run with euphoria.

"This," he said as he lifted his hand towards her, "this is your raw form. This is the person that's been confined in the darkest part of your mind. You found that rage deep inside you, and it took you all this time to finally let it go free. I broke your morality, didn't I dear? You used its glass shards as your own weapon, and you finally embraced the innate evil all people are born with! And don't you feel...so much better? Doesn't it make you feel happy that you've gotten rid of something that annoys the fuck out of you?"

He could see the tense muscles in Vianne's jaw move, although her glacial stare remained unwavering. His lips rose higher at the small flicker of emotion crossing her face. Ah, satisfaction drowned in the torrents of his unyielding spirit, now that's the glimpse of the suppressed rage I've been looking for - hidden underneath your innocent facade lies a darkness no light can break through, dear.

Tom sat up straighter in his seat, the chains around his wrists singing a dismaying song. "How did the rush feel when you killed him, Vianne? I certainly hope it made you happy. After all, violence is something every one of us yearns for."

Vianne's brows furrowed irefully, her clasped hands tightening before her. Tom noted the psychical change, thrilled he had sparked some sort of reaction from her.

"I'm not a bad person. What I did doesn't make me evil, I was simply serving justice."

Internally, disappointment crowded the previous mirth filling inside of him, but he instantly erased it from his system and started over again, this time making sure to press all of her buttons.

Tom shook his head. "Justice? You know I hate it when you mistake gore for heroism, Vianne. So let me explain what happened to you, because it's simple — you had a revelation. You allowed yourself to embrace evil in that split moment to kill him...you allowed all of the pent up rage, the anathemas, the bitter feelings, the frustration and used it to your advantage. And look at that, dear, it saved you. I'm proud of you."

Vianne flinched as he echoed her own words, and it only brought a twisted smile to his face. There it is, he thought.

"I'm not evil," her voice was shaking, "it was self-defense—"

"Ah," Tom cut in, his scowl replacing the smile upon his face, "self-defense is a pretty damn good excuse for murdering him in cold-blood, right Vianne?"

Vianne looked taken aback, as she stared at him with wide eyes. "It wasn't in cold-blood—"

"But you don't regret it though. You're happy he's dead and gone, dear, don't try to mask it with fortitude." Tom jabbed, the adrenaline flowing throughout his body heightening his senses. Just the mere thought of murder made him feel so alive. He pictured hot blood escaping the cold shell of a body, dribbling down to the floor like a catastrophic ocean wave, always following each other until its host was inevitably drained and empty; his favorite part was watching the life evaporate from their eyes.

What do you see? he remembered whispering to one of his dying victims in the dead of night, what's with that eerie look on your face? Is it because there's no God waiting for you on the other side?

Vianne took in a deep breath, ripping her stare from Tom to her hands, the emotion scurrying off her face. "Look, I get it. You were using me to prove that people are inherently evil, but this time, you're wrong. What I did to my abuser was fair, and there's nothing that will change my mind about that. But...I need your help."

Tom grinned with intrigue, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his seat. "Go on, dear, I'm listening."

Vianne noticeably shifted in her chair. "Help me cover up my murder, Tom. I can't let anyone know about this."

His mouth rose in a thin grin. "And what do I get in exchange for helping you?"

"What do you want?"

Tom sat up straighter in his seat. "I want my fucking freedom, Vianne. You're going to decide that I'm a changed man, and that your words have worked wonders on me. When you let me go from this shitty place, I promise you'll never see me again."

Vianne bit down on her bottom lip, brows furrowed. "Once you're released you have one month supervision—"

"I know that, dear. You don't think I can control my urges? You'd be surprised by how charming I can be." Tom grinned darkly, watching Vianne's expression intently. You look doubtful, dear, don't you know I'm the only one you can trust?

"You'll just kill more people if I let you go. Why would I let you do that?" Vianne asked, her voice strained.

Tom shrugged as he swiftly moved towards the glass. Up close he could see thin red lines scattered across her cheek, and when he glanced down to her hands there were specks of blood painted around her fingernails. Why do you still wear your wedding ring, Vianne? Don't tell me you feel guilty. His eyes trailed back to her face, the forest green of his eyes dimming. Looking at her ring awakened an anger so deep that it wrapped around his rib cage like thick, unruly vines until his heart was pushed to work harder to keep it all from collapsing.

He disliked the turmoil Vianne was suspended in; she was being crushed under the weight of what society expected of her, always looking to the "morally right" path and never questioning it. Couldn't she see that she was being duped by all of the social constructs? That it had suppressed her true identity that yearned for violence, for destruction, for evil? Society had tricked her into thinking good and evil were always at war with each other— the truth was that evil had won the war a long time ago. "Good" was a mere mold people wished to fill. But no matter how hard people try to reject the dark part of themselves, they would always fall back on their true nature at some point. And Tom hated watching her retract from it at this essential point in her life.

"Why are you so concerned about people you don't even know?" He paused, answering her question, "You're going to let me out because you're in need of my assistance when it comes to getting rid of your husband's body. It would be awful if they found out you killed him - your face would be on the new channels, the people would grow to hate you, your name will be echoed in Hood River's history for years to come. You'll be ruined, won't you, dear? Without the help of a professional, you're bound to get caught."

"I wouldn't say you're a professional - you did get caught." Vianne quipped.

"True, but it took them fourteen victims later to find me. And most of the people I've killed aren't recorded, dear." He replied, clucking his tongue. When he spotted the uncertainty in her eyes, he added another threat, "If you don't take this offer, I'll simply spread word that you killed your husband, and you'd be investigated before you can even get the chance to get rid of the body."

Vianne tensed, her eyes widening with alarm. "They wouldn't believe you. You being a murderer breaks your credibility."

Tom smirked. "You really believe that, Vianne? An allegation for murder seems too serious for anyone to ignore...but come on, I won't have to do this to you if you simply put your trust in me. Don't change your mind now— I'm your only option."

Vianne took in a sharp breath. After some time of deep contemplation, she glanced back at Tom with an odd lack of emotion.

"I trust you," Vianne whispered, "to help me cover up what I've done so that I won't get caught. But if that does happen...if they find just a speck of evidence to use against me, our deal is off. You won't ever get a taste of freedom, Tom. I promise you that."

Tom grinned, his heartbeat picking up at the arctic tone spilling over her voice. "You're willing to let me go free just to help you cover up the murder of your own husband?"

Vianne nodded, her brown eyes darkening. "Yes."

Tom chuckled, running his hand through his hair. "Then I promise you this - if you don't give me my freedom after I've successfully helped you, you're going to get what's coming to you, Vianne. I'll make sure of it."

Vianne scoffed. "I don't intend to break our agreement. As long as you leave me alone once you're free, then it's okay."

Tom laughed out loud, wrapping his arms around his torso. He liked this new version of Vianne, as she didn't seem like the small, naive girl she used to be. Finally, you're not wearing a mask, Vianne, now I can see who you really are.

"So you don't care about my possible victims if I were to be freed, then?"

Vianne sighed, glancing to her clasped hands. "Like you said, why should I be concerned about people I don't know? Some of the people you kill might not be good people: abusers, racists, rapists, pedophiles. But you'll kill good people as well. But the thing is, the world is unfair - death doesn't care what kind of person you are. It's bound to come for everyone...just at different times. You're simply guiding those times, Tom, so I really don't care whose lives you decide to take, because it's going to happen inevitably."

"But as long as it's not you, right Vianne?"

She shrugged, ignoring his question. "What's been festering inside of me all this time is simply revealing itself."

Tom nodded, bringing his thumb to his bottom lip as his gaze trailed across her. Her entire demeanor was aloof, the look in her eyes vacant as she carefully watched his movements. He took another step forward, leaning against the glass with a small smile.

"Yes, I know there's always been a rage in you, Vianne. I'm happy to see you've embraced it."

Vianne licked over her lips, offering him a brumal smile that shot chills down his skin.

"Well," she whispered as Tom stilled at the sound of her piercing voice, "I'm glad I did."