Stella stood in her old house and looked at the couch where she used to sit with her father. She looked at the dining table where her whole family used to sit. The house struck her as a cold and unfamiliar place. It was a place where her father died. At that moment, the memories before his death became murky. It was as if her previous life had ended and she had begun a crazed life of revenge and anger, that had spiraled into a sense of nothingness and guilt. All she remembered was not the happy memories of her family, but memories of their deaths, pictures of their cruel fate and images of her life being crushed into pieces.
She went back to the hotel to sleep, and she awoke to find herself in cold sweat. There was no one in the room. She did not know where Micheal was and she was afraid. It was dark. While she tried to find the lamp switch, someone grabbed her hand and pressed her two hands to the bed.
She could not see clearly and she was about to let out a scream when the person covered her mouth. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she realised it was Nick Smith.
“Either I will kill you now, or you kill me and kill yourself afterwards,” he said threateningly in a low voice.
She stared into his murderous eyes and feared for her life.
“You really had to kill him,” he uttered with a hiss, “I’m curious as to how you are going to rip my heart out because you look like I could rip yours out in a second.”
Rip his heart? She was confused. She did not kill them through that way.
“You can scream all you like but no one will hear you. I have created a sound bubble in this room,” he smiled before releasing his hand from her mouth.
She coughed for air and he laughed, “Are you trying to act vulnerable after you ruthlessly killed Stephen?”
“I never killed Stephen!” she replied in shock. Nick asked with a choking and rising voice, “Damn, are you going to deny everything like my father? Why did you kill Stephen? Why?”
Stephen was not in the plan. He never was.
“Yeah, and you had to kill Helen as well.” He put his hand on her neck and put some pressure. She stared at him, wide-eyed, and uttered, “Nick, listen to me.”
“You never listened to me,” he snapped back. She felt his hand shaking as he grasped her neck.
Suddenly, someone pushed Nick away and Nick was flung to the floor.
“Get off her,” she heard a familiar voice say. It was Micheal.
“Micheal, he is dangerous. You can’t fight him.” Stella tried to get up but she felt weak.
Nick just sat on the ground laughing like a maniac. Micheal eyed him and said hatefully, “It’s rather exciting to be face to face with a souleater.”
“It’s rather exciting to be battling against a human paired with legendary creature,” he smiled, his teeth sparkling in the dark.
“Well, Stella, should you kill the Prince of Souleaters now before he kills you?” Micheal turns to her and ask. She suddenly grew confused. Both of them were mad. They suddenly looked alike and their figures blurred before her.
“Someone killed Helen and Stephen,” she said slowly. Micheal did not look shocked. “Then, it’s time to kill him as well!” he sneered in delirium. She did not know this mad person in front of her, who was smiling like a devil.
She was angry and she pushed past Micheal. Falling next to Nick, she cried, “Believe me, I did not kill them!” Nick turned away from her face and said softly, “Are you going to kill me?”
“Never!” she cried hysterically in her head but she could not say anything. Words were choked in her throat. Before she knew it, Nick had disappeared.
Micheal looked at Stella who was kneeling on the floor with her two legs spread out and crying. He could see it in her eyes that she loved Nick. This struck his heart like a knife. She was the most foolish girl alive. He had tried to change his fate and he had failed once again! She was his! How could she betray his love? His love that had started even before she had met Nick Smith! And how could she love someone who could not love her, someone who had played with her feelings and thrown her away like a used toy!
As tears filled his eyes, Micheal left the room and immediately went to find Mr Rousseau.
Mr Rousseau was sipping wine when Micheal entered the room. “I want the stone,” he demanded.
“You look angry. Have a seat,” Mr Rousseau smiled.
“She’s not going to listen to me,” Micheal said angrily.
“Perhaps you were not as charming as Nick Smith.” Mr Rousseau spun his glass of wine. “How are you going to make sure the girl does not suicide?”
Micheal did not know how to reply that question.
“If Nick Smith dies, are you sure she won’t kill herself over petty love?”
“I will stop her,” he answered adamantly.
“Suit yourself. I am very disappointed that you have not managed to make her love you and hate him,” Mr Rousseau said icily and the wine turned to ice in an instant, “This becomes more difficult.”
“We could use the second plan,” Micheal insisted.
“I hate alternatives,” Mr Rousseau replied coldly, “But I hate failures even more. Bring to me Nick Smith’s dead body and I will grant you your wish.”
Micheal bowed and thanked him profusely.