“Please don’t scream.” So she didn’t. She faced the cold steel of the knife pressed to her throat with an impassive expression, aimlessly following the cruel figure. He moved with such flowing elegance, never missing a beat. He was so beautiful for a murderer.

She closed her eyes as he swept her from her feet, abandoning the knife and leaving her with the knowledge it would sink into her neck if she fled. She would much prefer ending up with a murderer than to stay in the white-walled room with nothing to do but deteriorate into eventual madness.

He set her down on a comfortable duvet, but she couldn’t feel comfortable again as the knife touched her, lightly grazing along her arm to the tune of his purring. “Have you always been so pale, Snow White?” She didn’t answer, for she was dead to her Prince Charming.

His fingers settled on the buttons of her blouse but stopped. He exhaled slowly, his breath warm against her neck. “Wake up, Sleeping Beauty.” His lips pressed against hers and he stole her away, running off with her to a land where the sun shone and the night illuminated their clashing shadows. His knife settled on her left wrist and dug deep enough to draw blood. She whimpered and he silenced it with another kiss.

He spoke no more, gently brushing the blood from her with his thumb and leaving her, alone in the cold with nothing but the discomfort of a soft and welcoming duvet.



Her arms wrapped around her fairytale prince. He purred softly, knowing that all she wanted was to feel the cold of his knife and then the warmth of his lips that came to kill the pain and mute the world’s eternal screaming.

He sat her down on a wooden chair and slit open the opposite wrist. His lips warmed the pain she dreaded yet desired, and he let it burn her to the ashes, and to the ashes of her soul he offered an apple. She could imagine the poison that laced its roots.

She took a bite and he smirked. He had not poisoned her, merely given her something to relax her body and soul. As she began to slip, slip away into the shadows that dominated where he kneeled, she grasped him tightly and begged for him not to leave.

“Confess to me, little Snow. I want to hear what you desire to say.”

“I love you, Prince Murder.”