Vida Bondar

Nearing midnight, the front door to the rustic house was unlocked and opened. Vida trudged inside, fresh snow on his boots and his face red from the freezing cold out on the mountain trails. His home is a welcome sight, the door shutting softly behind him as he removes his jacket and outer wear, leaving him in just a t-shirt and sweat pants. He had been out on the trail, leading the search party for the recent missing person–his former ex, his beloved. Really, the façade of a desperate former boyfriend was an act he was starting to perfect rather easily.

He knew exactly where they were. They were where he needed them to be.

With a small thrill settling in his stomach, he made his way toward the door near the back of the kitchen where the stairs leading to the basement were. He made his way down the creaky, old steps. The air dropped in temperature, a chill wrapping around him as he approached the door of his refurbished basement. Something he had made just for them. He thought he would turn it into a sort of den for when they moved in together, but that obviously didn’t happen. Now it was an empty room, smooth walls with a table and a mattress on the floor.

Opening the locked basement door, he slowly approached them. Vida peered down at them, noting the shivering and their eyes fluttering open at the sound of his presence. Still, he reached down, patting them lightly on the cheek to wake them up more. He gave them a soft smile, an almost affectionate expression if not for the hardness that lingered in his stare.

“They’re close to considering your case to be cold,” he spoke, the hint of a Slavic lilt to his voice, “Once that happens, you will get my full attention at night. Just like old times, eh?”

He chuckled softly, kneeling down beside their bed, meeting their eyes steadily.

“Though…there is still an unresolved issue,” he continued, “I’m sure you know what one it is. We do this every night–it’s getting exhausting. Remember what I said last time? If you agree, I will let you out of the basement for some time during the evenings, see where it goes from there. Yet, you still keep refusing me. So, I will have to ask again more convincingly.”

He reached into his pocket, pulling out the silver ring that he had proposed with several weeks ago, and had done so every night since he had locked them up in his home. This time, however, he also pulled out a familiar tool that he rarely left out when hiking, the blade of the utility knife reflecting the faint light from overhead. With a steady hand, he grabbed the back of their head, exposing their neck. He pressed the blade hard into the flesh there, a thin trickle of blood sliding along the edge.

“Will you marry me?” he asked through gritted teeth. “Think before you reject me again, sweetheart…”