She paced around him and her footsteps echoed through the empty chamber as she did so. A glance at his face showed his fear clearly and the sweat beaded on his forehead in tiny, shimmering beads that glistened in the merry sunlight streaming in through an out of reach window way up high.

Although the sun shone, December made itself felt with the biting cold in the room that had never seen a radiator. But she didn't seem to mind the cold at all, despite her hands being red from it.

He could see every shaky breath he took as a cloud of smoke, and somewhere a ticking clock was counting down.

"Why do you have to be so goddamn attractive?" she asked, facing away from him and admiring an old picture of a beautiful landscape on the wall instead.

Ian did not know how to answer. Everyone knew Amy had lost her mind years ago when she chose to live by herself in an almost deserted neighbourhood. She seemed emotionless and cold now, but she was as beautiful as he remembered her, but she had changed over the time he had not seen her and she looked a lot older now, but she still had the same features he had fallen for so many years ago, and he had fallen hard.

She picked up a small dagger from the table that stood close to her and ran her index finger across it lightly. A thin line of blood appeared where the sharp blade had come in contact with her skin. She smiled and watched a dark red drop of her own blood drip to the floor.

While she did this, Ian watched her curiously, as if trying to find a meaning behind her actions, but there was no rhyme or reason, at least, not that he could find.

She turned to him, the dagger still in her hand, and she looked like a cat ready to pounce. Her eyes were the same beautiful green they had always been, but they did not seem to be looking at him, or at anything. They just stared straight ahead.

"Why do you have to have those goddamn perfect features?" she asked in the same tone as she had before.

"Why do you have to be so goddamn gorgeous?" the answer shot out of his mouth before he had time to process what he was saying.

Amy laughed coldly- it was not the warm, welcoming laugh that Ian had come to love.

"You're still quite the charmer, are you not?"

A cold shiver ran down Ian's spine and he took note of how she talked without a stutter, how she answered without a blush.

His hands ached and felt numb from the cold, and his heart pounded so hard that he feared it might beat out of his chest. It beat so loud, he was almost certain Amy could hear it.

A look of satisfaction appeared on her face and he knew she must know somehow how he felt. He wasn't that obvious, was he?

"What do you mean?" he questioned.

"I mean exactly what I said," she answered, lowering the hand that held the dagger, single drops of blood still oozing from her open wound.

"It's been lonely here," she remarked, her eyes still not focusing on anything. Her voice was emotionless and her breath was slow and weak.

"You chose to live here," Ian pointed out.

"Not like this… Not…"

Ian pursed his lips. He did not know what to make of that.

"And then," he voice was low, as if she was only talking to herself. "And then the one who visits me after all these years for the first time…" her voice changed, it now sounded cold and menacing she took a step towards him. Ian wanted to take a step back, but he felt frozen in place.

"For the first time in years," she repeated and laughed a cold, forced laugh. "I am visited by a Kabra. A Kabra is the one to visit me after so long," she spat with distaste. Her eyes flashed with anger and she stared directly into his with that cold, unfocused stare. "It's your fault."

"I- what?"

"It's your fault he's gone. I don't know what you did." Her voice grew louder and louder as she spoke. "You told him to go away, didn't you? Didn't you?! Look at me!"

The blood in his veins became icy. Her brother. He was dead, he had died years ago, but Amy wouldn't have any of it. She blamed him for his death, only after she had ended the search for him and after she had given up hope to see him alive. She still blames me.

He thought that after all these years…

"And there was a place somewhere," she continued. "A place where we were happy, or could have been, you and me. But here, I realised my mission of revenge. What you did to me, what you did to him, that misery I must give back. Revenge." Her eyes flashed dangerously. She showed a side of herself Ian had never seen of her before. And yet he wanted to embrace her warmly. She looked so lost, but at the same time she knew exactly what she was doing.

Ian could barely feel his hands, they were so cold.

"Spare me this," he said. "What is it you want?"

Amy took a bold step forward so they were but an inch apart. "I would hate you," she said, disregarding her question. Ian wondered if she had registered what he had said or if she chose to ignore it.

She closed the space between them and Ian was caught by surprise as she kissed him roughly, her cold hand and the equally cold hand holding the knife pressed into his back. He could still not move his legs to step back, but would he have if he had had the option? Probably not.

She took a step away from him after a short time. "If I didn't love you. But, alas, there are certain events that are meant to happen, to avenge my brother, I must do this. He never liked you anyway. What a shame."

Quickly she drew the dagger, pierced his heart with it and he fell. She caught him in her arms and sank to her knees, cradling his head on her lap.

"If we lived in another place… curse you for being so goddamn handsome."

Ian drew in a shaky breath for the last time and stared into her eyes, her gorgeous green eyes, which had finally come into focus, and a single tear glided down her cheek.