She walks across the room and lights the two candles on the window sill. She uses a matchstick, not a lighter. She walks back across the room and flips the lamp switch. The room goes dark. She stands there for a moment, waiting for her eyes to adapt. She takes a few steps forward, until she's in the middle of the room. She sinks to her knees, onto the thick carpet on the floor. The carpet is white, with a red, irregular pattern. She moves her hands to make the sign of the cross, then puts them in her lap, completely still. Only her lips are moving.

 

She walks across the room. Her dress is black, flowing like a waterfall behind her. The waist is marked with a thin, silver belt. Her hair is cut just above her shoulders, and frames her face with loose curls. She has her eyes set on a man across the room. His suit is tailored in a fabric almost as dark as his eyes. She walks up next to him, but looks the other way, gets the attention of a waiter, orders a vodka with ice. The man in the suit turns to her, smiles subtly, and tilts his head a bit to the left.

- Do I know you?

She turns to him. A smile. Teeth not showing.

- Not yet.

He smiles. The waiter comes back with her vodka. She drinks it, then puts the glass on a tray in the hands of another waiter. Eye contact. Neither of them is blinking.

 

 

Across the street. His hotel room. He takes off his shoes, suit jacket, unbuttons his shirt. She unzips her dress, he unzips his pants. She steps out of her shoes, puts them neatly next to the door. He stands next to the bed. She removes the silver belt from her dress, runs it between her fingers. Eye contact. Neither of them is blinking.

 

She lifts the belt, hits him over his chest. Hard. A red line shows up on his skin where she hit him. He gets angry. Before he has time to transform anger into reaction, she hits him again. Harder. Another red line. He makes a move towards her, but another blow hits him first. In the face. Blood. He screams. Another hit. Another one. Another one. Another one. He looses count. The belt is no longer silver.

 

 

She rinses her hands and under arms in cold water. She washes away the stains in her face and over her collar bones. She puts her dress back on. Not the belt.

 

She walks across the room and lights the two candles on the window pane.