Plan

I shot backwards as quickly as I could, but it didn't stop the large hand from snapping across my cheek with a hard crack. I winced, touching the throbbing spot as Beyond shook his head.

"I don't believe you. Try again."

We had been at this game for hours, since the crack of dawn. I hadn't slept a wink, lying on my side all night, staring at the wall until the sun began to shine through the large bay windows and bathe us in shimmering orange. Finally, I rose, before even Beyond who was dead asleep, and I crept quietly down to the first floor landing. Immediately, I went for the photograph. Sitting next to the low-burning fire from the night before, I studied its contents, running my fingers over my mother's aching face, trying to make her become real, right in front of me. Eventually, Beyond rose too, and I heard him curse as he realized I wasn't in the bed next to him.

"LEIGH," he shouted, jumping to the railing that overlooked the living room. I turned around to see him in an odd place of vulnerability. His eyes were squinty from sleep, hair sticking out in a hundred different directions, shirt risen up and stuck just above his belly button. It was almost comical. He relaxed when he saw me sitting there. Carefully, I folded up the picture and stashed it in my pocket, knowing he would notice it was missing but hoping he wouldn't care.

He then made me eat, setting out two jars of jam from the basket—grape for me, raspberry for him. I pulled off a piece of French bread and began to munch quietly. That's when the questions started.

"What is your name?" he asked, finishing his own jam and wiping his hands on his pants.

"Leigh," I said, with no hesitation. He liked that answer, bobbing his head.

"Where are you from?"

I shot him a confused look, wondering where this could possibly be going.

"Bloomington—"

That was when the first hit came, a smart punch to my left arm. I cried out in pain, backing away as quickly as I could cradling the arm and staring at Beyond as if he were a crazed lunatic. Well, he was a crazed lunatic.

I knew better than to ask why he did what he did, so I only stared at him, afraid to say anything.

"Where are you from?" he asked again, heading towards the kitchen to make coffee. I waited until he was seated next to me on the couch to answer.

"Chicago," I said, and when he raised his hand to hit me again, I backed up.

"Born in Chicago. I lived in New York most of my life."

That seemed to be a satisfactory answer to Beyond, who lowered his hand and used it to pick up a box of cookies.

"Good. How old are you?"

"Twenty-seven," I answered hoarsely, blurting out the first number that came to mind. He slapped me this time across the face.

"You're too young to be twenty-seven. Try again."

"Nineteen!" I was breathing heavily at this point, all of my body already screaming to get away, but I knew I didn't stand a chance. He hadn't hurt me like this in a long time. Cut me, sure, grabbed me, chased me, threatened me, but hit me? It was like he had truly lost it.

A few more questions into it, and I was beginning to get the hang of the process. He wanted me to lie, convincingly. Get my story straight. So far I was a nineteen-year-old college student from New York, who went to school in Fresno and waited tables on the side to make extra money. My mother was dead, my father remarried and traveling with his new wife. I was trying to save up enough money to transfer to UCLA, but when I got to Los Angeles, my plan was to take a year off and enjoy the city before going back to school.

It took a while to get to this point, and my entire body was on fire.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" he asked, tilting his head to the side. I hesitated.

"Actually, a husband… he works a lot. He's from New York too. His name is… Rue. Rue Ryuzaki."

Finally, Beyond seemed satisfied, cleaning up the mess on the coffee table and bringing us each back full cups of coffee. I stared into mine, expecting the grainy mess of sugar, but finding none. After a sip, I noticed it was only sweetened just a tad. Surprised, I looked to Beyond's own to see it was the same.

"You're taking your coffee differently," I noted, wondering why he would change something like that. Although, perhaps I didn't quite have to wonder. It was more curious why he had been drinking it the other way in the first place.

"There's a lot you don't know about me, my dear. I'm preparing for a part too."

I looked at him, curiously. "What kind of part?"

"I intend to be more involved in the investigation of my murders than most would consider safe. I have to play the part just right."

"Ah," I said, pretending like I understood. Why would he stick around long enough for the investigation? We had been racing to get away from each of Beyond's sick conquests, barely escaping the police each time. Why would he want to confront them now? Oh well. With luck, he would get himself caught.

He placed down his empty cup of coffee and gave me a hand up. It was slightly sticky from the jam, but it was nice to have it be offered to me in help rather than coming at me, threatening pain.

"I'm going to drop you off at the mall with enough money to get you whatever you need. Make sure you buy new luggage, clothes, bathing supplies—food even, if you want. Don't dress how you usually dress. Try to be a bit more… elegant."

I imagined my character, obsessed with fashion—she was a business student, after all, and she needed to look the part. She didn't have enough money for designer clothes, but she knew how to dress herself smartly with the cheap stuff.

Beyond handed me a bright red leather wallet. I peaked inside, jaw dropping at the amount of cash, stuffed so tightly in it looked like it was nearly impossible to get back out.

"How much is this?" I squeaked, already knowing I had never held so much cash in my hands at one time.

"$10,000. Like I said, enough for whatever you need."

I nodded numbly. Already, my mind was running through the possibilities. I could take a taxi to the airport, catch the first flight to Indianapolis, run home to my parents. I could rent a hide-out in the mountains and stash myself away from Beyond forever. Of course, realistically I knew I couldn't do any of those things. Maybe before, with the cash, I could have stood a chance running from Beyond—but now, he had something else on me. My parents. I couldn't risk their lives, not now. Running was no longer an endgame, no longer an option for me. Getting help wasn't an option either. My grip tightened on the wallet, and I nodded to Beyond. Yes, there was only one option left. I had to kill him.

...

"Ready?" Beyond asked, brightly, as he picked me up from the front of the fashion mall. I had everything I needed in my hands, so much stuff I had almost considered asking someone to help me carry it all. Instead, I had taken to stashing my haul in the large suitcases I had purchased first off on the trip. They were busting to the seems now, with underwear, dresses, skirts, blouses, bath products, even some delicacies—chocolate covered strawberries, truffles, and Japanese snack foods from the international market.

We hauled the things back to the cabin, and I ran a hot shower, lying out the new clothes to wear on the bathroom sink. A simple pair of pajamas. Silk, pink, and soft to the touch. I bathed with my new soap and shampoo, lusting over the sweet scent and the way it lathered against my skin, rendering it soft and pliable. I was in heaven.

I began to trace images in the steamed side of the shower, outlining first the face of Beyond before I wiped it out with my fingers. How would I kill him? When would I kill him? All very valid questions. I had no idea where to start, or how. I could catch him off-guard, sleeping, like he was this morning, although I doubted he would leave himself open like that again—not unless he trusted me, fully. Really, I had no chance of catching him off-guard unless I was the one who threw him off-guard in the first place. It was obvious my journal wouldn't be enough to get me there. And my supposed crush on him—that had only gotten me so far too. Beyond was smart. He was too smart to turn his back on his captive, regardless of the reasons. So… so what did I need to do? What could I do?

Well… I had to not be his captive anymore.

"Shampoo?"

I jumped, turning and seeing he had crept up behind me, and was naked, too, under the full blast of the water. I pushed myself against the wall of the shower as he measured out a dollop of my new L'Occitane shampoo and began to smear it across his head.

"This is a bit floral for my taste," he teased, pulling me towards him and turning me around so I faced away. I didn't like not being able to see Beyond, if he was in the same room. It made me feel like he was about to put a knife to my throat.

But all he did was begin to run his fingers through my hair, rubbing in the sweet smells of rose and violet, brushing it with a tender hand. After rinsing, he moved on to conditioner, and finished it off with a sweet-smelling almond shower oil. Then one arm went around my torso, the other my neck, and he pulled me against him, still facing away. His hands traveled up and down my body, feeling every smooth bit of me, tracing every line and curve as he pressed into me from behind.

I let him do what he wanted, feeling oddly relaxed in his hold. I wish I could say his touch was completely disgusting. That I vibrated with so much hatred for him that I could barely stay there for one second without pulling away. But truthfully, it felt good to be embraced in such a way that wasn't threatening or had potential for harm. He was so gentle with me, he could have been playing an instrument, or painting with watercolor. I had to admit—he was good at it. And when I turned my head to see him staring at me from above, his eyes dark and bright and large, his lips in just the faintest hint of a smile, he could have been another person altogether.

If Beyond had become a different person… if he wasn't so… so, well, bad… well, even if he was bad… even knowing he stole and murdered and kidnapped… threatened me, threatened the ones I loved… I wasn't forming coherent thoughts. My entire body was tingling, intensified every time his hands moved an inch. I couldn't take it anymore. I turned around and threw my arms around his neck, and he pushed me, hard, onto the shower wall and we kissed like we hadn't in weeks.

How could he do this to me? How did he do this to me? It didn't make any sense, how one minute I was plotting the right size screwdriver to shove into his chest and the next we were closer than we'd ever been before.

The bathroom was beginning to steam up, from the shower and our entangled bodies. Beyond ripped his head away and stared at me through the steam, legs wrapped around him, hair stuck to my face. He let me drop and moved the hair away, so he could see into my eyes.

"I want to trust you," he said, moving his head downward to bite my neck. "How can I know to trust you?"

He seemed to be talking more to himself than me, but I took my opportunity.

"I want you to trust me too," I gasped out, as he bit down, harder. "What can I do so you'll trust me?"

I half expected him to say what was most obvious. There we were, completely naked and completely touching, our bodies already halfway to where they needed to be in order to do what human beings were created to do best. But to my surprise, he merely put his lips up to my ears and whispered the last thing I ever expected to hear.

"Kill someone."

My eyebrows knitted in confusion, and I tried my best not to push him away, although he was already moving to exit the shower. He gave me a smile.

"Come on. Get dressed. Meet me in the living room."

He picked up a towel and walked out, closing the door behind him. I stood in shock, watching water pour down the drain, and I wondered if I could just melt and pour down with it. Could that really be what it took? It made sense. Once the accomplice, I certainly wouldn't be the captive any longer. But how could he expect me to do something like that…?

I shook my head, finally stepping out of the shower to towel off and put on the silky pajamas. They clung to my body, the softest touch, and it felt so good to be wearing something completely clean for the first time in… well, months.

When I entered the living room, he had the fire going again, and the sun was falling below the surface of the lake. The temperature had dropped even lower, and the lake was covered in ice, the trees in snow, icicles hanging from the edge of the cabin. Despite the fire, I was still chilly, and Beyond came up behind me to wrap one of his black button-up shirts around my shoulders. I shot him a small smile in thanks, and he nodded, taking a seat on the ground.

"There's a restaurant just in town I can order food from. What would you like?"

I shifted my arms into the shirt, taking a seat.

"Burger? And… macaroni and cheese."

I had already splurged at the mall today, buying a soft pretzel the size of my skull and two ice cream cones. Yes, two. You begin to appreciate food a lot more when you never know when your next meal will be.

He nodded and picked up the phone, ordering my meal and then a steak for himself.

I cleared my throat when he was done, and we had been sitting in silence long enough. "Who do you want me to kill?"

He shrugged, making a face. "Doesn't matter, really. I guess someone who is doomed to die."

I rolled my eyes.

"I'm serious," he said, fake-pouting, running a hand up my leg. "Haven't you ever thought about it? I can see death dates. I know when everyone is going to drop, eventually. Everyone I've killed was doomed to die, on that day. If I didn't do it, something else certainly would have. I'm just… a means to an end."

He certainly had a point. I had never thought about it that way before. If what he said was true, and these death dates were set in stone, was it really murder if he, well, carried out the deed? If that was true, then it was like Beyond was fated to be a killer. Fated to end these lives, regardless, and if he chose not to end one, that was fate, too, as they were meant to die a different way. I shivered, remembering one of the articles I'd read back in Chicago. "The God of Death," it had read, that's what they called him.

"Think about it, my dear. If I point out to you that someone nearby is meant to die, and you kill them, you would only be acting as the face and hands of Death."

"If what you're saying is true… then all murderers would technically be innocent, because all of their murders were fated to happen anyway. Right?"

He smiled. "Wrong. Most murderers operate under the assumption that they are taking away years from a person's lifespan. Ending it abruptly. They assume there is an actual choice in the matter… and what is wrong with murderers is they make that choice when they have absolutely no right to do so. It doesn't matter if it was destined to happen. They didn't know that. They made the choice anyway. When I kill, the choice has already been made. I'm simply carrying it out."

I hated to admit it, but he was making a lot of sense. I didn't know how I felt about it. Could I still hate him, for murdering, if he wasn't actually taking anything away from those he murdered? He definitely did some other despicable things too, but to kill was the worst… My brain was starting to hurt, trying to understand the morality behind this crazy situation. I sat in silence for a moment, and then the doorbell rang.

"Food!" he said, overly-excited, jumping to his feet and bringing in the boxes. I took one look at my burger, and the whole philosophical question of murder was thrown out the window.

"What do you say?" he asked, from the kitchen, as he removed a steak knife from a drawer. I already had my burger in my hands and was about to take a bite.

"Um… thank you?"

"Good girl," he said, flashing teeth, sitting down across from me.

I took a few bites, still considering, before voicing my main concern. "I still don't know if I believe you… about death dates. It still feels made-up." I was a little nervous to be putting it so bluntly. I didn't want him to throw another knife at me, after all.

He cocked his head to the side. "Really? How can I prove it to you?"

I took a bite of mac and cheese, trying to figure out some mastermind plan for him to show me without, well, showing me directly. I had seen enough death so far. I didn't need any more than was necessary.

"Go into town," I said, uncertain of my words but speaking anyway. "Take a picture of someone who is doomed to die this week. Bring me the picture, with their name, and if they show up in the obituaries this weekend, I'll believe you."

It was just crazy enough to work. I didn't have to see anyone first-hand die, and Beyond didn't have to do anything terribly cruel, like kidnap another pour soul.

"Fine," he said, standing up to put on his coat. "But just know… this is a waste of time."

Before he could exit, he turned to me, curiosity plain on his face. "Would you do it anyway? Kill someone for me, even if you didn't know they were fated to die?"

"Would you kill someone even if you didn't know they were fated to die?"

Beyond looked momentarily distant, like he had considered this question before. "Smart girl. I'll bring you back your proof."

And so he disappeared into the blisteringly cold night, and I curled up in front of the fire, contemplating the hand of fate in the realms of life and death.