She could remember that day as though it were only yesterday.

A text message from him, with vague instructions that she didn't understand, but still followed. She knew she was hopeless, knew that even if he did have the capability to love, his heart would never be hers as hers was his. And yet, she did it anyway. Made a phone call to an unknown number, arranged a fresh corpse for whatever he wanted now. Hours later and she still had no idea what he had needed it for.

And then, she went outside. Saw him on the roof opposite, all windblown curls and long dark coat, purple scarf almost flying off until it caught on his raised arm. As he began his swan dive, his eyes fixed on the man across the street, she did not see him fall. Instead, she saw a manic man with a riding crop, attempting to make bruises on a corpse. Absentmindedly insulting first her lipstick, then the lack of it. Treating her invitations to "coffee" as offers to bring him some."Black, two sugars, I'll be upstairs."

As the falling figure disappeared behind a parked taxi, all she could see was his cocky smirk, his cold smile, ignoring the heartbroken visage of the jumper-clad man next to her, having moved closer as she stood insensate, both of them broken in the face of his loss.

Now, three years later, the bastard was on her doorstep.