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Chryssie picked at her cereal with her spoon. The Cinnamon Squares were getting all soggy, and the milk was getting warm. She hadn't eaten a single bite because she was quite sure that she would have thrown it up.

"I don't want to go out today," she finally said, looking up.

Grayson nearly spilled his milk all over the table as he poured himself a second bowl of cereal.

"Why not?"

"I don't feel well."

Grayson sighed, putting the carton down and folding his hands calmly. "I understand that you're upset about your mother, Chrysanthemum, but you need to go outside."

Chryssie frowned at him. "My head hurts."

She could see him grit his teeth in an irritable sort of way. "Fine, but you can't leave the hotel room. If you try to run, I'll find you, and I won't be happy."

"I won't run," she said with a sigh, looking around at all of the people inside of the atrium. All of the free people. A little girl with her thumb stuck in her mouth waved at her, making her smile slightly.

Grayson screwed the cap back on the milk carton, then cleared his throat, drawing her attention back to him.

"Good. I trust you not to leave. Now eat your breakfast."

~

Grayson was polite to everyone he came across. A perfect boy, with a perfect face, and perfect manners. No one would ever point him out as a mass murderer. No one would ever even suspect.

He liked it that way, he decided, as he took the bouquet of roses from the young woman at the floral shop counter. He was in there because he had thought that it would have been nice to purchase some flowers, just to cheer his Chryssie up.

"Weren't you just in here the other day buying roses? Thaddeus, was it?" the woman checking him out asked, brushing back the blonde hair that was escaping her braid.

A slight panic took over him when he realised that she recognised him, but quite quickly, he calmed himself.

"Ah... yes," he agreed, pulling his wallet out. "Thaddeus Holloway."

"A special someone to give those flowers to?" she asked, thumbing through the two five pound notes that he had given her.

A crafty smile slipped onto his face. "Very special. The chrysanthemums in particular remind me of her."

"Would you like some? We just got them in purple."

"Oh no, she much prefers the roses," he said softly, pressing his fingertip against one of the petals delicately. "Sometimes I worry that she thinks them unsightly, but they're the most beautiful flower of all in my opinion. Thank you for your time."

~

The cold, silver blade pressed against Chryssie's skin as she picked it up.

She had found the knife buried in Grayson's bag when looking for a book to entertain herself with. It had been a surprise to her - he took the knife everywhere with him. In fact, she had never seen him without it, yet somehow, it was in there.