They lie together, and whisper of their future. Their future lies in the swell of her stomach. Their future has two diverging paths in one rotting house, but he won't yet tell her that. They spin a bright vision together, living in some quant copse of trees, perhaps, raising their children together and laughing at their antics. Everything he tells her is a lie, every word a falsehood. It's in his nature, to ensnare someone like her. To capture her trust, for she gives it so willingly. He lies to her with his silver tongue; she's wrong, but he won't tell her. Arrah has no future at all.