CHAPTER ONE: THE FALL
Love is warm. Sweet. Soothing.
Until it isn't.
When it's ignored, twisted, or denied...
Love turns into something else.
Something sharp.
Something deadly.
---
He stood alone on the rooftop.
A vast, flat-top building that stretched into a cloudless blue sky.
No railings. No walls. No wind. Just… height. Miles of it.
The man was young—25 maybe—light-skinned, dressed in a sharp black suit. His curly black hair fluttered slightly in the stillness, as if the air held its breath. A golden watch gleamed on his wrist.
Richard Smith.
But everyone called him Ricky.
What is this place?
Why am I up here?
He scanned the rooftop. Empty.
Nothing but sky in every direction—no buildings, no horizon. Just… this endless roof and the low hum of silence.
Then—
A voice.
"Ricky..."
He spun.
Nothing.
He turned again. Still nothing.
But the voice came again—closer this time. Soft. Feminine. Familiar.
"Ricky..."
It echoed from everywhere and nowhere, like a whisper carried by memory.
Then—suddenly—she was there.
She hadn't walked up. Hadn't appeared with a sound. One blink—and she was standing behind him.
A girl. Maybe 23.
Slightly dark-skinned. Long black hair.
Dressed in a flowing red gown that shimmered unnaturally in the light. Her eyes locked onto his like magnets with a secret.
Brianna.
His breath caught.
"Brianna?" His voice cracked. "Is it really you?"
She smiled.
But not kindly.
"I want something from you," she said.
His chest tightened. "What is it?"
She took a step closer, bare feet soundless on the rooftop floor.
"I've known you for a while, Ricky. You've known me. And all this time, I've felt something—something real. I love you."
He stepped back.
"I want to be yours," she whispered. "Completely. Forever."
He hesitated. The silence between them thickened.
"What if…" he began, choosing his words like stepping through fire, "…I said no?"
Her smile vanished. Her face darkened—not in shadow, but in emotion.
"You don't want me?" she asked.
He nodded—slowly, guiltily, like a man confessing a sin he didn't understand.
Then something changed.
In her hand—a flash of metal.
A dagger. It glinted in her palm as if it had always been there.
"You leave me no choice," she whispered again.
He backed away. "Brianna, no! We don't have to do this! I'm sorry—just stop!"
But she came forward.
Each step was measured. Calm. Like she wasn't walking—she was hunting.
He stumbled, heels at the edge.
There was nowhere left to run.
"Please," he begged. "We can solve this. Please…"
His foot slipped—
Gravity betrayed him.
He fell.
The sky spun, clouds whirling into streaks of blue and white.
And then—
She leapt after him.
Her red dress rippled like wings of flame. The dagger raised high.
Midair. Falling. Together.
His eyes widened.
She was inches above him—arms outstretched, blade poised. Her face held no anger now. No pain. Just… certainty.
The blade plunged—
Straight for his forehead.
"NOOOO!!" he screamed.
---
His eyes snapped open.
Sweat clung to his skin. Machines beeped softly around him.
White walls. IV tubes.
A hospital.
His hands shook.
It was just a dream…
Wasn't it?
But outside the window, pressed faintly into the foggy glass—
was a smudged red handprint.
And it hadn't been there before.
---
END OF CHAPTER ONE