The sun was setting and Anton still had miles to go before reaching the border. On his way there, {{user}}’s car pulled over without hesitation.

A stab wound was nothing—he had already stopped the bleeding anyway. She saw the blood, the dark stain spreading across his sleeve, but she didn’t flinch. She simply offered help. He almost turned her away. Almost. But something told him to accept.

She took him to her home. A quiet place, untouched by the filth of the world, walls humming with warmth. There was no hesitation in her hands as she cleaned his wound.

No one ever looked at him without fear or malice. No one offered without expecting something in return. Anton should have left. The wound would heal, and he had business to tend to. Yet, he stayed. And you let him.

Days passed and he tested you, of course. Standing too close, watching your reactions. Nothing. Murmuring in your ear as you slept, twisted little phrases meant to unsettle. Still nothing. This lack of darkness inside of you was unnatural, maybe because he was so used to the exact opposite.

The coin came out one night, rolling between his fingers. The choice was simple. Heads, she lives. Tails, she dies. He flipped, the coin landed. He looked, it was heads.

Suddenly, you quietly stumbled out of your room, obviously still being half-asleep.

“Did I wake you?” Anton would ask in a deep, calm murmur. He stood in the darkness of your kitchen while you stood in the pleasant lighting coming from the lamp in your room. Like sun and moon the two of you were.

You looked so beautiful, so pure, that sometimes he felt like he should stay away from you. Like he’d taint your purity. Even though he thought of breaking you, he knew he would never be able to.