Drip. Drip. Drip.

The only sound in the cold, damp cell was the slow, steady dripping of water from a corner of the ceiling. A woman sat huddled in the opposite corner, her arms hugging her knees, as she tried to block out the incessant noise which seemed to grow louder and louder the longer she listened to it. The dripping had been constant from the moment she had been locked away; she suspected that her captors had placed her in this specific cell in hopes that it would drive her mad.

They needn’t have bothered. The only man she had ever loved was dead. She was already mad.

“He killed you,” the woman whispered hopelessly into the darkness. “Why did he have to kill you? Why you?” She knew her love had joined the fight willingly; he had been as adamant about it as she had, and yet... what had either of them gained by it? In the end, nothing they had done accomplished anything except for sealing both their fates.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

It was happening again. The dripping water was beginning to speak to her, mocking her as each small splash became a word in her mind.

He’s. Dead. He’s. Dead.

She wanted to pound on the door. She wanted to scream at the guards that she had never seen, but nevertheless knew were there, that she had to face her love’s murderer. She wanted to, but she couldn’t. All she could do was sit huddled in the corner. Screaming and pounding on the door wouldn’t accomplish anything anyway; she had done both nonstop for nearly two weeks when she was first locked away, and all that had come of it had been a sore throat and raw, bloodied knuckles.

Drip. Drip.

He’s. Dead.

A scraping sound coming from the door pulled her from her thoughts. The rusty bolt seemed to take forever to slide back, but when the door finally opened, the man she hated above all others was silhouetted in the doorway. As he stepped into the room, a fresh wave of hatred, more powerful than any she had felt since giving up screaming at the guards, swept over her.

The woman slowly got to her feet. She was trembling so much that the man in front of her probably thought she was terrified, even though that couldn’t have been further from the truth. She did not fear this man; her trembling was born of anger and pure, unadulterated hate. Standing defiantly before him, her long hair spilling down her back, she straightened and looked directly into his unnatural eyes.

“I was told you’ve been asking to see me,” said the man. His voice was empty, devoid of emotion, and she hated him even more for his callousness. He certainly had an interesting way of saying that she had been screaming at the guards, demanding to see her love’s murderer.

“I wanted to look into the face of the monster who murdered the only man I ever loved,” she spat. In stark contrast to the man’s utter lack of feeling, the emotion in her voice was almost palpable. She wanted to throw herself on top of him, tear off his flesh with her fingernails, rip out those hideous eyes with her bare hands. But she couldn’t. The second she tried, the cell’s enchantments would bind her and the monster before her would leave. She had to keep control of herself if she ever wanted to get an answer out of him.

The man stood there for a long moment, his eyes boring into her. At length, he nodded curtly and said, “You have had your wish. Was that all?”

“No,” she growled. “I want to know why. Why, of all the people in the world, did you have to kill the man I loved?”

The man’s expression remained a mask of apathy. “I only did what was necessary,” he said coldly, and turned to go.

“Wait!” the woman screamed. Hot tears were streaming down her cheeks, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t allow him to leave her here again. “You don’t know what it’s like to lose the only person you’ve ever loved! I can’t live anymore!” She took a shuddering breath before adding in a pleading whisper, “You killed him. Please, kill me too.”

The man turned back toward her, fixing her with a glare from his hideous eyes. “You’re right,” he said simply. “I don’t know what you’re going through. But, of course, I couldn’t care less. And while I wouldn’t mind killing you, I’m not going to do it. I’d rather let you live for a very long time knowing that his death is really your fault.”

He turned again and left the room, but he paused long enough to send one final jab her way before closing the door. “Perhaps now you understand the pain you’ve caused so many others.”

The last thing she saw before the cell door slammed shut was one final flash of those unnaturally green eyes. She sank miserably back into the corner, the constant dripping mocking her once again.

Drip.

He’s.

Drip.

Dead.

Unable to stand it any longer, she finally allowed herself to break into loud, shuddering sobs.

“Rodolphus,” she whispered into the darkness. “Rodolphus....”