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... d those eyes. They reminded him of the Sixth Floor's Guardian. Of the child-like Monster who had lost its smile, whose face twisted and contorted with anger.

She had both.

Yet, she looked exceedingly beautiful.

With the Moonlight gone, there was only Darkness.

Her hair, blown both backwards and upwards at once by the wind, seemed to completely disappear.

The same was true of her dress.

Both her dress and her hair blended perfectly with the Darkness ...

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“Now… where should I put you both?” he asked casually, not expecting a reply. “It’s regretful that I only have one chandelier.”

“Underneath my bed? No, no, too dirty. My dust bunnies don’t deserve this,” Atticus mused to himself. “The mantlepiece? How about the vanity table? I suppose if I lop off one of your heads I could mount it over… Wife, which head do you want to stare at while you do your hair?”

“Atticus!” Daphne screamed. “I don’t want any heads! Let them go.”

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Daphne gasped, horrified. This man, her husband, had just killed two men with a flick of his finger, as though he was snuffing out candles.

“I told you to let them go!” Daphne cried out.

“Yes, I let them go,” Atticus said. Then, his eyes darkened. “To receive divine judgment from the heavens.”

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