A week or so passes. My vision starts to clear. Dahlia is dressing to leave.

"Where are you going?"

"I can't leave Japan. Or am I also imprisoned in the house?"

I stand, following her gently, softly touching her shoulder. Her breathing hitches at my touch. Is that...disdain perhaps.

"Where are you going?" I ask again, holding her hand in mine, my fingers on her pulse.

"I thought I would go out." She whispers.

Her pulse is steady. Unflinching. Unwavering. Her fingers touch my chest. I am reminded that of the two of us, she has more experience with this.

Captor and captive. She's been married. Manipulating a man to get what she wants. She's used to it. It's me who is inexperienced, in this.

"I am going out," she restates. She brushed a hair back from my face.

"And I have asked you. Three times now, actually. Where. Specifically. The place. You are a foreigner here. Let me...at least be sure you're safe."

She says nothing for a moment. "Did you know I'm a widow?"

I smirk. "Is that a threat?"

She sighs. Dahlia smells of rose even less now. Now she melts of me, and I find I actually much prefer it. I will be pleased if my sight returns.

I miss looking at her.

"I'll be back,"

I pull her back. "Dahlia..."

"A club," her face comes into a focus a bit, though my sight is blurred around the edges. "Am I free to go now?"

I nod, clenching my jaw. "When do you think to return?"

"I'm not sure where the night will take me," she shrugs, pulling on a coat.

"It will take you back home to me," I cup her jaw, with a smile. "Where you belong. Are you thinking of drinking or music? There's a club nearby. Horrible music, great drinks."

She chuckles, a small little snort of amusement.

"I'm off then. Good night, Akira."

Her hand slips from mine, and I let her. And then I sit. And I wait. A few hours pass. She stumbled back in late. 11:57.

My vision is clear now. She lifts her eyes to me, chuckling.

"Akira!" She grins, stumbling over to me.

"You chose the one with the drinks," I remark.

She scoffed sitting on my lap. I watch her. She's so pretty. I brush my fingers against her cheek. Dahlia is intoxicated. How did she find herself back home?

Her lips press against my neck. It's haphazard and sloppy. I hold her anyway, rub her back. She lounges onto of me, not mindful, I don't think.

"You should be ashamed of yourself," she mutters, her eye rolling back.

She kisses my cheek.

"I am. Very much so, my flower."

Dahlia sits up, pressing her lips against mine. I don't engage.

"Be good, Dahlia. Be still. Go rest," I tell her. She doesn't move, slumping against my shoulder.

"I wish...you were unkind to me. Then I wouldn't like you as much as I do. Akira..." she slurs.

I pick her up and take her to bed, laying her down. I lay next to her.

"Sometimes, you watch yourself commit horrors. But...it's like...you're in a rollercoaster. The tracks is moving on its own. And by the time you realize you've come up a bend...it's coming to fast to make a choice. And all at once you realize...you never had a choice. The track is automatic. Already laid out."

I look over at her. "So...I am on the rice. But I am also controlling the ride. Then why don't I know where it goes."