The Fall

The sound of the sliding door unlocking was like a gunshot in the quiet room.

Julian spun around. "Elara?"

She didn't look back. She threw the heavy glass door open and ran into the white void.

The cold hit her like a physical blow. It was thirty degrees below zero with the wind chill. It sucked the air from her lungs instantly. The shock caused her blood vessels to constrict violently, sending her blood pressure skyrocketing.

* Thump.* A pause. *Thump.*

Her heart stumbled.

"Elara!" Julian’s voice was behind her, calm, not yelling.

She scrambled over the icy decking. The snow was knee-deep in drifts. She could see the outline of the Range Rover ten yards away. Just ten yards.

She stumbled, her bare feet slipping on black ice. She crashed down onto her knees. The cold bit into her skin, turning the silk lingerie into ice.

She tried to stand, but her chest exploded in pain. It radiated down her left arm, up into her jaw. It wasn't anxiety this time. It was the real thing.

"No," she gasped. "No, please."

She crawled forward, the keys clutched in a frozen fist.

Shadows fell over her.

She looked up. Julian was standing there. He wasn't running. He wasn't even wearing a coat. He stood in the doorway, protected by the overhang, watching her crawl.

"It's cold out there, Elara," he said. His voice was conversational.

"Help me," she wheezed. She held up the keys. "I have... the keys. I just need... my bag."

Julian stepped out onto the balcony. The wind whipped his hair, but he looked solid, immovable. He walked over to where she lay shivering in the snow.

He crouched down.

Elara looked into his eyes, searching for the man who had promised to love and cherish her. She saw only the predator.

"You weren't supposed to find the phone," he said, his voice almost apologetic. "It would have been peaceful. In your sleep. This... this is messy."

"Julian... please," she sobbed, the tears freezing instantly on her cheeks. "My heart..."

"I know," he said softly. "That's the point."

He reached out. For a second, she thought he was going to lift her up.

Instead, he gently pried her frozen fingers open. He took the keys.

"No," she whispered, her vision greying out. The pain in her chest was absolute now, a crushing weight that eclipsed the cold.

Julian stood up. He looked down at her, a beautiful, broken doll in the snow.

"You were always too fragile for this world, Elara," he said. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. His lips were warm.

He turned and walked back to the door.

"Julian!" she screamed, but it came out as a gargle.

He stepped inside the warm, golden light of the cabin. He slid the heavy glass door shut. The lock clicked.

Elara lay on the ice, her body convulsing. Through the glass, she watched him walk to the fireplace. He picked up his scotch. He took a sip, staring out at the darkness.

He looked right at her. He raised his glass in a silent toast.

Elara reached a hand toward the glass, her fingers brushing the frost. Her heart gave one last, frantic flutter, like a bird hitting a windowpane, and then stopped.

The last thing she saw was the firelight reflecting in his eyes, warm and alive, as the world around her faded into white.