Our plan was pretty simple. First, convince Grandma to go to work so that the house would be unoccupied. She was surprised at first that I wanted her to leave the house because she had never been asked so directly to leave. Then she suddenly remembered she had to go to work and was glad I reminded her of it. Her leaving for work meant we had time until eight o'clock until she came back. I had no idea what we were about to do once we caught my father red-handed, but I trusted Rowan's, and Azra's plan.

Secondly, to get friendly with my 'father'. For him to see, I'm not hiding anything. It was easier to say than to do because I hated to see even for a mere second. I began to loathe him once I knew why he left my mother. My poor, foolish mother loved the guy without a soul. If I knew it was him the first time I saw him, I would spit into his face.

I don't care what happens to men like him. If the demons want to kill him, then so be it. I was done being good. I was done being weak. I'd kill him myself if I had to.

The demons stayed in the house, going through the attack plan. Rowan decided to come to work with me. He said he couldn't leave me alone with a monster, and I was glad for that. I needed a stable pillar to hold my back.

When the most important time came, I began to worry for Grandma. Her coming back home, seeing demons, Rowan as an angel, and my father trying to take my life. I had to focus on something else. I searched the crowd of strange people and their drinks when my eyes stopped on the honey-blond hair and wide smile. I only needed to see that for my nerves to calm down. For my pulse to slow down. It was like magic. I returned a smile to Rowan, who was calmly drinking his red wine. There was not a single worry on his face.

We had no reassurance that my father would come to the bar, but I felt it in my bones that he'd show up. And I was right. It was late evening when I caught sight of the entirely tattooed man, who wore a sleeveless black T-shirt and worn-out dark blue jeans.

He took a seat on the bar stool, staring at me. I met his gaze; his eyes were sharp and deep. Gray. I hated the fact that I had to call him my father because I didn't know his real name. The word father creates acid on my tongue.

"Beer?" I asked, my voice still.

"Bourbon." He replied instantly.

I wanted him to start the conversation first. To tell me by himself why he visited my house last night. I wanted him to confess.

"You know," I started, "when I lost my mother, I crumbled. I thought my life was over because I saw no positive reason to live. She was a strong woman once, and one inconvenience crashed her to the ground." I placed the Bourbon in front of him, meeting his eyes. "I will not get crushed by anything that comes my way. With one or two inconveniences, I will still stand straight."

His mouth curled into a half-smile. "That's truly inspiring; I just hope this great strength of yours will last till your last breath." He said, and his eyes narrowed.

"It will. I have amazing support from my Grandma and boyfriend." I said, smiling. It was the best lie I could come up with. He saw Keliah's hand wrapped around my waist last night.

"That was your boyfriend that I saw? A little too old for you, don't you think?" He chuckled and took a swallow of the bourbon.

"Well, he's a bit older than me. I choose wisely when it comes to men. He's a doctor, you know." I informed him. I tried to be less suspicious when it came to the things I said to him. So it wouldn't seem forged.

"He must be pretty busy then, isn't he?" He asked, pressing the glass against the bottom of his lip.

My lips went into a straight, tight line. That was pretty easy to do.

"Yes. Yesterday was one of the days he had some free time to spend with me. But I don't mind. He has an amazing career." The corner of my mouth lifted.

For some time, silence ruled. I kept taking orders from customers, and my father kept drinking his drink. My head was in the clouds, though. For how long did he plan to kill me? Why does he want me dead when I mean nothing to him? I just wanted to get rid of him and never see his monstrous face. The face my mother had to look at when he told her he'd be leaving her.

Now Rowan had to play his part and tell me in an indirect way that Grandma wouldn't be home. It had to be played precisely. My father was no fool; I was sure of it.

He brought his empty glass of wine with a smile that calmed my insides, knowing he was there the whole time beside me. He was my first friend, and I was happy to know he'd help me-my unofficial guardian angel.

"Hey, is your Grandma home? I forgot to give her the tea she wanted me to buy when I was out of town." Rowan asked and glanced at my father. My father was listening because he stopped paying attention to his drink.

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"Ohh, that's unfortunate because she's at work, but I can give it to her," I said, and I winked at Rowan.

Rowan placed the herbal tea on the counter and waved at me when he reached the front door. He wasn't really leaving, but it was part of the act. Not long after that, my father paid and left without any more words. I noticed how distant he became once he became aware of my loneliness. In his head, he was already envisioning everything.

At seven o'clock, I closed the bar since it was empty. We had exactly one hour until Grandma's arrival. The time was ticking.

The street was weirdly eerie-creepy more than ever. It was pitch black, with no sign of life. The silence was broken only by the distant howls of dogs, and the air was heavy with the smell of decay. The streetlights were barely working, and darkness enveloped the street ahead of me.

I felt someone's presence behind me, but I kept on walking, never turning around. The only thing that kept me sane was Rowan. I knew he was close by. He never moved his eyes off me.

When I finally saw my small house, my heartbeat quickened. Once I passed the doorstep, leaving the door unlocked, I immediately ran up the stairs into my bedroom. I crept to the door, listening any kinds of sounds and disturbances. The front door, a few minutes after my arrival, opened. I took a sharp breath, moving backward away from the door.

I reached for the knife I had prepared at the desk, gripping the hilt of it tighter. By now, he must've walked up the stairs, but I heard nothing. It was like he was walking on air. If it were any other day, I'd be murdered by him.

I hid myself under the bed cover, trying to steady my body as it constantly trembled, but in vain. I was scared to death. Then multiple pairs of footsteps echoed through the house. Running around like rats hidden in the walls. That meant our plan had failed. He had an accomplices.

I heaved a breath, squeezing my eyes shut. The door to my room slowly opened. Their screeching sound startled me as if I had heard them for the first time. Now I could hear his footsteps. The loudness of his boots came gradually, like waves. It felt like rocks fell on my body, and I couldn't move an inch. His hand yanked me off my bed and onto the floor. In his hand, he held a long, sharp knife. Better than mine. He was surprised to see that I had a knife myself.

I immediately kicked him into his stomach, sending him far away from me as he stumbled. That gave me time to push myself to my feet. I held the knife upright with both hands. His gray eyes met mine again; however, this time they were burning with hatred and disgust. There were no emotions I could detect within them.

Numerous footsteps were heard, and their heavy tapping made me unfocused on my murder. In no time, he was right in front of me. Circling like a lion. I kept my pace swift in case he'd attack me. I kept a great distance from him, but it had a limit since my room wasn't too big.

Once I heard something hard fall on the stairs and a familiar voice shout, he took the opportunity to pin me against the wall. I lost my grip on the knife, and it fell onto the floor.

With one hand, he strangled me, and with the other, he held his knife to my stomach. My eyes began to blur. I saw everything unfocused like I was looking through the world with a plastic bag.

I needed to take a breath, but I couldn't. His hands were too rough, right around my neck. I tried to kick him or push him away with my hands, but they lost the power to raise.

I could only focus on the noise outside of my room. On the shouting and screaming of men's voices. Falling and breaking of things.

"I should've killed you when you were still inside her stomach." He spat into my face and kept strangling me. "Isn't tomorrow her death anniversary? You can celebrate together. Once you're dead, I'll find the old hag and kill her too."

I thought my veins would pop out any second. I tried to scream, but I could only wheeze in agony.

"I'll inherit this house since I'm legally still her husband." He whispered against my ear. "Killing you three was a great pleasure." He said mockingly.

I had no time to process what he was saying to me. I was pushed to the edge of death. The blackness enveloped me. My vision was black with nothingness. I felt like I had fallen to the ground, and my head hit the rock. The unstoppable ringing in my ears burned my head alive. At that moment, I wanted to die.

I was floating above a sheer ocean. The sky was clear of clouds and birds. The sun's rays were burning my skin like a laser, but I didn't want to move. The tides were the only reminder of movement. My limbs became still as stone, and for a second, I thought of myself as dead.

"Vivienne!!"

"Please- Vivienne-"

"Don't do this to me."

"Vivienne."

The voice kept saying, like on repeat. It was a low, masculine voice, and I wanted to listen to it as a song. It thrummed in my ears until it hurt to hear it.

I snapped my eyes open to see the top of my ceiling. My vision was still blurry, and my ears kept ringing; however, now I knew this was the reality.

"Can you hear me? Please, answer me. The suspense is killing me." I focused on the voice, taking a deep breath into my lungs. I cocked my head to the side and caught sight of my savior. Death. How ironic.

He stood a few meters from me, as my pendant wouldn't allow him to get closer. I couldn't believe I was happy to see him. A small smile formed on my lips. I wanted to speak, but my tongue couldn't move. I only blinked my eyes for him to see I was conscious.

I slowly turned my body to one side and grunted as I strained to lift myself, but I immediately failed. I let out a sigh, feeling the despair. I tried again, this time summoning even more strength and refusing to let despair consume me. With a final push, I managed to stand up. I took a deep breath and looked around, my heart pounding.

My murderer was tied with chains, lying on the floor, lifeless. Death stood in front of me with his scythe. Staring at me intently. As soon as I took a step forward, my balance failed me, and I thrust myself against the wall to keep myself steady. Death started to come to me, but then he realized he could not enter my protective bubble.

Tears shimmered in my eyes and broke down my cheeks. It was hot and tingling. I was breathing fast and unsteady; I couldn't properly inhale. "W-Where w-were you?" I whispered, looking down on the floor.

After a few seconds, my head hit the wall, and I stared straight at him. He no longer had his scythe in his hand, but he stood as before-like a statue, not responding to me. All I wanted to do at that moment was slap him hard across his shadowy face. I was mad at everything and everyone. I needed the anger to stop occupying my body.

"Vivienne." He said my name so gently and with so much care that, for a second, I thought he truly cared for me.