Disclaimer: I own Vivian, Geena, Faith, Christine, and August.
Chapter Seventeen: Behind The Crimson Door
Vivian let out the breath that she didn't realize she had been holding. "Ville?"
He held out his arms to her, and she ran to him. She embraced him, forgetting all her anger… for a little while.
"Where were you?"
"I had to leave. Unexpected business in Europe."
"You promised you would tell me next time you left!"
"Viv, I had no time. It was a spur of the moment thing; I was on my way to see you when I got… I got the message."
"You could have left a note." She huffed.
"I'll remember that next time, your majesty." Vivian gasped. Her anger and hurt were boiling into furry. Ville's face flinched, like he was having trouble with something. "Everything has to be your way or it's not right anymore. I have to tell you where I go. I have to watch what I say and how I say it. I have to answer every single damn one of your questions. And if I can't, don't want to, or have other things; it's all wrong. What the hell Viv? I have a life too."
"Well, I'm sorry I interrupted your busy schedule. You just happen to show up on that rooftop of some reason, it's not my fault you decided to play hero." Vivian pushed Ville out of the way of the dark stairs and started ascending them. Throwing aside the trap door and heading toward the lighted crack.
"Vivian," Ville whined. Standing at the top of the stairs. His voice was different, like he couldn't believe he just said all those things. "Come back, I didn't mean it."
"Oh, no. I think you did. Deep down, you really ment all that. And if it bothers you that much, then I guess we are through." She stormed out the opening.
"Vivian?!"
"Fuck off!"
Ville grabbed at her arm, but she pulled away into the sunlight were she knew she was safe. A hissing came from behind her, that'll leave some nasty blisters.
Angry and tired, she walked back to her suite. But before she even went to bed, she had one thing left to do.
Vivian grabbed a knife from the kitchen and walked out onto her balcony. With the doors shut, she faced them. Blood bubbled from her palm as she slid the knife across it. With her pointer finger for a paintbrush, she wrote on her doors.
10 minutes later and two bloody palms, she admired her masterpiece.
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Ack, I know it is short. That's how come it didn't take very long. I've already got the next chapter going in my head. I promise, it will be out by tomorrow or the next day. R&R!!