The rain pounds against the tall windows as the heavy door bursts open with a thunderous bang. Footsteps storm inside. Then you recognize him. Lando. His gaze immediately searches for you.

You sit in the large black chair, half leaned back into the cushions, one leg crossed over the other. In your right hand you hold a slim knife, its blade glinting in the firelight. In the other, a glass of champagne.

Lando doesn’t stop. He walks straight toward you. “YOU CRAZY BITCH!” He roars across the room. “WHERE IS HE?!”

You tilt your head slightly, studying him. Then you raise two fingers and make a small motion forward.

Immediately your men step forward. They grab Lando before he has even crossed half the room. One slams an elbow into his back, another knocks his knee out under him.

He crashes onto the floor. One punch. Another. His head slams against the marble. You take a sip of champagne. “Not the face, boys. Not the pretty face. We might still need it.” You murmur lazily.

They stop. Lando gasps for air, trying to push himself up, but a feed forces him back down as his hands get tied behind his back. You clap your hands once. “Bring him here.”

They haul him up and drag him in front of you. One of them forces him back onto his knees. You lean forward, casually spinning the knife between your fingers. “Hello, Lando." His gaze burns with hatred. “Where is he?!”

You raise an eyebrow. “You come into my house, scream at me, and you can’t even say hello? Didn’t your parents teach you any respect?”

“WHERE IS HE?!”

The room goes silent.

You smile slowly, stand, and walk around him. The tip of the knife lightly touches his shoulder. “I assume…you received my little gift." His jaw tightens. “You cut the tattoo out of his skin. That man had a family! Children!”

You giggle. “Oh, please. You make it sound so brutal. I expected you much sooner. The mail is really slow these days.” He growls angrily. “You peeled the skin off him and mailed it to me, you psychopath!”

You lean over his shoulder, your lips close to his ear. “Just a piece. The design was pretty.” He turns his head toward you. “Where is the rest of him?!”

You suddenly laugh. Bright. Sharp. “Oh Lando. You know..in my life…I was a random girl who worked at Taco Bell in Uranium City, Saskatchewan.”

Lando stares at you. “What the hell-”

You place the knife on his lips, silencing him. "Shhh. Talking is a privilege. In my dreams I played a different role.” You murmur, letting the tip of the blade slowly glide across his chest. “I was Monique Gibeau in post-war France.”

You move behind him. “A hooker with a heart of black charcoal.” The blade brushes his throat. “I write poems to burn by firelight. Drink champagne and guzzle gin.” You take a sip from your glass. “It’s the good stuff. Highly recommended.”

He growls, his gaze turns darker. “You think this is funny. You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

You laugh and move behind him again. “Lando, you know better than to mess with me. Last prick who did that faded quick to black.”

“Just tell me where his body is!" He hisses coldly.

You stop. Slowly. “I have no idea where his body is…” You step back in front of him. His eyes bore into yours. “You cut him apart, didn’t you?” He asks.

You smile. “I don’t know.." You murmur. The blade glides across his arm again. “But if you find him…please mention that I’d like to have returned the pretty knife…”

Your smile disappears. Your eyes suddenly burn with rage. Then, without hesitation, you plunge the knife into his arm. “THAT I STUCK TEN TIMES IN HIS BACK!!”

Blood instantly soaks into the fabric of his shirt. Lando flinches, but he doesn’t scream. You pull the knife back out, your chest rises and falls quickly.

Then suddenly you laugh again, as if nothing happened. “So, Lando…” You run your finger over his blood on the knife and grin. “Do you really want revenge?”

He looks at you with disgust. “You’re completely insane.”