When Vianne walked inside the room, the faint smell of lemon blew swiftly by her, which was odd because the entirety of the room was empty. Only a small chair sat on the left side of the room, and a protruding piece of the wall served as a makeshift desk. Just above the desk was a window in which she could see the next room over, which was also empty with a single chair in the center.

Vianne sat down on the chair, noticing a blank notebook and pen sitting on the desk in front of her. She blew out a nervous breath from her quivering mouth; the entire situation felt surreal, as if the events of the past week had blurred into different colors that depicted an entirely new world for her. Anxiously, her hands wrapped around the chair's edges and squeezed hard, her knuckles turning a ghostly white.

Soon, an alarm had blazed within the room, and the door in the next room opened to reveal a tall, muscular man with dark hair resting just above his shoulders. He had a relaxed gait as he approached the chair, an expression of bemusement encapsulated upon his face. When he locked eyes with Vianne, his mouth lifted in a small grin as he sat down coolly on the chair. The green of his eyes were the color of moss draped against wet, slate grey stones, growing thick and wild as to fully conceal his secrets. It was a haunting look - the kind where Vianne had to look away because of how anxious it made her.

The door behind him closed automatically, and the alarm had ceased, leaving the two of them to drown in a condensed silence. Vianne shivered, but refused to let any emotion spill onto her face. She slowly grabbed the pen from the desk, and observed the way Tom was gazing at her, attempting at deciphering what exactly he was thinking. She tried her best to remember all of the psychology lessons she took in college, but her anxiety seemed to eat away at her thoughts, her mind saturating into a dark abyss.

Tom began to laugh, probably because Vianne might've appeared more petrified than the calm she anticipated for.

"Are you trying to figure out how to make me good?" He said mockingly, green eyes lit up with mischief. "Why not try a magic trick, I'm sure it'll be better than whatever Christian shit comes out of your mouth next."

Vianne shifted in her seat, mulling over her response. "Do you think this rehabilitation experiment is being run by a Christian group?"

Tom leaned back in his chair, perplexed by Vianne's shift in behavior. "Well, is it?"

Vianne jotted observations down on her notepad. "So... you're not fond of Christianity, Tom?"

He rolled his eyes. "Obviously."

"Why is that?"

Tom stared at Vianne for a long time, his expression stoic. "What are you doing, huh? Why are you here? All you're really doing is wasting my goddamn time." He hissed, remaining relaxed on the chair. Vianne swallowed hard, her hands trembling. 

"I'm not wasting your time. It doesn't seem like you've got anywhere else to be." She said quietly, her voice shaking. When she watched his mouth curve up into a perturbing grin, she quickly glanced away and offered a new question.

"Anyway, what is your view on religion then? It seems like you're reluctant to talk about it with me."

He rolled his eyes. "Wasn't it obvious?"

"I want to hear your opinion."

"Why do you care anyway?" He sneered, "you think I can be converted? That by saying some prayer I'm suddenly purified?"

"That's not what I'm trying to say. I just want to know why you don't believe in it." When he refused to speak on the subject, his eyes boring into hers, she decided she would have to open up to him in order to gain his trust. She gave an audible chuckle as to seem more approachable and friendly. She smiled at him even when it made her body grow alarmingly cold.

"I'm Vianne, by the way." She breathed, her skin crawling with chills. "I just...I just want to let you know that I am here to help you. I have no secret intentions, nor do I believe people cannot change for the better. I want to help you find the good in yourself."

Even as she said the optimistic words, she couldn't help but feel poisoned by the frailty of such hopes. They both knew Tom was incapable for such a dramatic change in the span of three weeks; in order to really change a person, it could take years. How was she expected to change his entire character into one that was empathetic? To one who didn't thirst for murder?

She took in a large breath as she watched Tom shift in his seat, a grin appearing on his brooding complexion. She could almost hear his thoughts in the back of her head - do you really believe a man like me can change?

He chuckled and tilted his head to get a better look at Vianne through the glass.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Vianne." He said quietly, "But I do not think any person in this facility can change for the better. I am a murderer - people like me are born to be evil. The best way to deal with such circumstances is to kill me now, because I know that this whole experiment is going to be run down into shit."

When Vianne remained silent he continued further, as if he were pouring straight alcohol onto a burning wound.

"Even you, my dear Vianne, are capable of committing the most heinous things. It's just a matter of time before I break your morality and laugh at the plurality of pieces, its glass shards a beautiful and deadly weapon." Tom chuckled, smiling wide.

Vianne shuddered, her thoughts swimming down the drain and back into that dark abyss. She didn't know what to say. All she could do was sit and stare, her brown skin flushing pale at Tom's behavior. She wanted to flee the room; a thought crept into her head that there was no true hope for the people within these pretty walls in the middle of the woods. And yet, she couldn't bring herself to leave. She swallowed hard, glancing back down at her notes.

"My morality is not fragile. But you are right, everyone is capable of cruel things, but you have to remember everyone is capable of doing good things, too. If you let me be your guide, I will help you find it."

Tom nodded, amused again. "Your morality is like stained glass at that old Church down near the river, where they illustrate the stations of the Cross."

"And why is that?"

"It's awfully pretty to admire, until you realize they depict the final stages before your Messiah's death. Then it's not so pretty to admire anymore, don't you think?"

Vianne shook her head, a little confused as to how stained glass windows correlated to her. You don't make any sense, she thought pessimistically. She bit the inside of her cheek, pondering over her next response.

"Didn't he sacrifice himself to save the world from its sins?" Vianne asked, playing along with his choice of topic.

Tom clucked his tongue. "The people turned against him and forced him to wear a crown of thorns and carry his death sentence on his back for the world to see."

Vianne wrote more observations on her notebook, which Tom caught. He eyed her suspiciously.

"What are you writing?"

Vianne tucked some loose strands of her hair behind her ear and relaxed back in her seat. At that moment, the alarm blared for Tom to return back to his cell as the automated door behind him opened wide. Hesitantly, she locked eyes with Tom, his cold demeanor instantly causing her heart beat to quicken. Her hands fidgeted nervously next to her notebook, but she expressed her thoughts to him anyway.

"You felt betrayed by your religion, right? You were a Christian until your perception of the world changed. What happened to you, Tom?"

Tom tensed, his green eyes sharpening and dilating, his whole persona disintegrating into a frightening look. He scowled, his gaze hardening like the ice in the midst of winter. When he stood up from his chair, he loomed over her petite figure with such malevolence that it made Vianne feel small in her seat. He walked up to the glass that separated them and pressed his palm against it. 

"Fuck you." he hissed before turning away from her with heavy steps. The air in her lungs were caught amidst his fists, her vision somewhat hazy as she spotted her reflection in the glass while he walked away. Her eyes were glassy and wide, her skin a sickly brown as strands of her hair fell on her face. She swallowed hard as Tom disappeared into the next room, and the alarm's dreadful screaming went mute. The door to her left opened to reveal Rowan with a smug expression, his blue eyes glimpsing over her terrified frame. It was time to go.