Vivica Francesca Louis let her long flowing ruby hair down and it fell to the floor with a thunk. She never cared much for having it up. She gazed in her hand mirror and traced the outline of her blood red lips. Her pale skin shone brightly against the darkness of the fleur-de-lis pattered walls behind her and her blue eyes glistened in the moon light. She approved of the image and sat the mirror down on her dresser. The walls were stained and shabby, but it was not horrible. She just could not leave.

I long to go from this place for it is my cage. Marius will not let me leave though it is my hearts deepest desire. Marius. My keeper. My tormentor. My hatred, she thought.

She paced her room vigorously plotting against her captor. Her foot falls dainty on the wood floors that creaked with her meager weight. She found sadness in the window as her eyes landed on the bars that graced them. She grasped them with that all too familiar sound of skin scraping ever so softly on uneven metal. Her cheek found the cold iron and she, strangely, found comfort in their cold embrace. The white curtains billowed around her as the wind blew in through the bars. She sighed and then paused in her sorrow. She heard something.

Snap!

Her eyes darted wildly as she searched the yard. It was growing darker so she could not see well, but she did manage to see the phantom sprinting strait towards her window. Her heartbeat quickened and her blood pulsed through the tiny veins in her eyes causing her blue iris to widen her pupils. She moved away from the window staggering backwards towards her king-sized bed. She held her breath and waited.

Snap!

Branches cracked and the wind howled as if night itself were approaching. Something latched onto the other side of the bars and began its attempts to dislodge them from the wall. The iron creaked and fell away from the wall with a large crash. This let the wild figure light on the remnants of the window. She stared at it and held her fear inside. It moved into the lighter part of the room and it could be seen that it was a man. He had blood red locks that spilled about his body and stopped at the middle of his strong back. He wore a black leather jacket showing a large sliver of bare chest and pressed black dress pants. He was young and beautiful, just like her.

He moved to her so quickly that his feet never touched the ground, or at least that was what it seemed. He caressed her cheek with one finger. She shuttered letting out her breath

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