The sound of thick platforms falling against the smooth marble flooring reverberated around the uncrowded lobby, steps unfaltering yet slick with anxiety.

Tahlia Meyers had to remind herself to breathe every few seconds, lest her restless heart should explode. She'd almost forgotten the man in the uniform who tailed right behind her, he was supposed to guide her but it felt like she was the one leading the way.

Turning a corner by a certain marble bust, like the officer at the desk had told her, she found herself face to face with a large full-length glass panel in the wall.

Truth be told, she was expecting something more traditional like one of those common visiting rooms where the prisoner and the visitor sit across from each other and talk about mundane things like it was just another day in the life.

She'd almost forgotten she was in a maximum security penitentiary.

As she came to stand right in front of the glass, the first thing her eyes saw was the vague reflection of her own self in the murky surface, a pair of lukewarm eyes and a countenance that had daunted written all over it.

But as she looked past it, eyes focussing beyond the reinforced glass, her own reflection disappeared into a dark figure sitting on a bench all the way at the end of the room. Both hands by his side on the bench, his head drooped low, gaze fixated on the floor.

She made no sound as she continued to gauge the man, wondering for a second if she made the right decision coming to see him.

The intensity of her stare must have travelled in wavelengths across the room, for soon; he looked up.

Blue, that's all she saw, as his eyes connected with hers for the first time in three years. His irises spread, as he continued to look into her, arrested by the moment. He rose up, scorching gaze never leaving hers, as he slowly ambled towards the glass.

There was a minute of stunning silence impregnating the space between them, before he tilted his head to the side,

"1091 days."

Tahlia was caught off guard by the sound of his voice. It was forever etched into her brain, yet the real thing took her by surprise almost instantly.

He leaned closer into the glass, whispering, "One thousand and ninety one days."

"Hello Lo—" She cut herself off immediately, recalling that wasn't his name. Blinking, she corrected herself, forcing a still-foreign name out of her mouth, "Hello Kyle."

Granted there was a layer of thick glass between them, Tahlia's face was only a few inches away from his, giving her flashbacks to the last time she saw him.

Covered in blood, barely breathing.

Breaking away from the stare, she looked away.

"How have you been?" She mumbled out.

"I followed your trial closely. The day they announced the sentence, I told myself I'd fly out here and come see you."

"Did it make you happy, the sentence?" He prompted, smiling gently.

"No." She shook her head, lips pursing together, "Honestly I was hoping for a death sentence."

His mellow smile widened at that, eyes fleeting downwards, "Don't worry, life in prison is a fate worse than death. A quick death is a mercy; instead I'll be here spending all my days alone as my bones grow brittle and my organs give away. Inside these walls I die a thousand deaths everyday."

Her eyes found a way back to his face, listening to his dejection laced poetic, yet collected words.

"You did kill four women. This is what you deserve." She muttered under her breath. It was then that Tahlia noticed how different, yet the very same he looked since she'd last seen him. His hair had grown longer, reaching right above his chin; eyes free of the dark circles and the marked look of insanity.

Albeit, orange was not his color.

"Who are you telling that to; me or yourself?" Eyes full of mirth, he asked teasingly.

"Does it matter?"

"I suppose not. Tell me, did you continue with your degree?"

"I think we both know I was a terrible criminal psychologist."

The smallest of laughs left Tahlia's lips at that, "No, I work with Child Protective Services now."

As he nodded in understanding, Tahlia realized he had not once spoken her name in the ten minutes she'd been there. It scared her to admit it, but she was dying to hear the sound of her own name said out loud in his deep voice.

"You said you flew out here, don't you live in Jersey anymore?"

"No, I—" She paused, relaxing her face as she shot him a knowing look,

"I am not gonna tell you where I live Kyle."

He simply shrugged his shoulders, "Why not? Like I said, there is no getting out of here for me. I'll live and die in this place."

Tahlia felt a pang of something hit her chest at his words. It was both for the imperceptible sorrowful undertone in his words, and also how nonchalant he was about it at the same time.

"What are you doing here? What are you looking for?"

She glanced back at him as she heard him say those words.

"Closure." She said mechanically.

"No, not closure." He shook his head slowly, knowingly. "Something else."

As the seconds ticked by, the heat of his stare unrelenting, she finally plucked up the courage to spew the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

Breathing in, she began, "I...I don't know. It's been three years, yet none of it feels real. Sometimes I think if I keep my eyes closed for too long I'll wake up in that night." She paused, catching her breath,

"I don't even know if you are real."

She didn't see him raise a brow at that,

"Real? I have always thought that was a very interesting word. And that's a great question Miss Meyers; it truly can get quite hard to tell what is real and what isn't."

His face relaxed, "Take you for example."

Tahlia looked at him puzzled, "Me?"

"I think about our time together quite a lot, more than I'd once liked to have admitted. In it, one particular moment I can't seem to shake off, the one where I saw that scar on your stomach and you told me all about how you got it, about your mother and your sister."

Instinctively, Tahlia's finger's brushed lightly against the scar, confused.

Before she could voice her confusion, he beat her to it;

"It was all bullshit, wasn't it?"

Her jaw tensed, "What do you mean?" The tone of her voice came out urgent, yet blasé all at once, her face falling.

"Prison gives a man a lot of time to think. Think hard enough to realize that an attacker on top couldn't have possibly given anyone a scar like that. The depth, the angle, considering you were a child, fails to make sense I'm afraid."

"Are you saying I lied? That it wasn't my mother who gave me that?" She raised her voice, teeth gritted in bubbling anger.

"No," He said calmly, "Your mother did give you that, except she wasn't attacking you, she was defending herself."

Tahlia was sure she forgot how to breathe then and there.

"I'm thinking, maybe she did accidentally kill your lovely little sister, and that's when you lost it and knew you'd had enough." He spoke smooth like clear water, "She was a junkie, so it wasn't hard to make it look like an overdose. Except she probably woke up and saw what you were doing, grabbed a knife and tried to defend herself. But in the end it didn't matter, did it?"

With glossy eyes Tahlia heard on.

"Then, you being the smart girl you'd always been, you grabbed the leftover heroin and injected some into yourself, just enough to land you in the hospital and clear yourself of all suspicion."

She had to look away. It wasn't his eyes she was scared of getting a glance at, but her own in the clouded reflection.

"So tell me Miss Meyers, how do you know if what you see is real?"

Moments drifted away, as Tahlia's gaze remained glued to the floor. Memory after memory came flooding in her mind, drowning her in an abyss of dark remembrance.

And then something changed.

He could feel it, as if the light in his atmosphere was replaced with dark undercurrents.

Tahlia finally looked up, except now her eyes were at ease, having finally stopped running from herself. She smiled,

"It's simple; you don't."

After a beat of complete silence, Tahlia mused in full awareness, "Maybe in another life we both won't be so fucked up."

"Then I'll see you in the next life Ms. Meyers."

"Natalia." She said, placing her fingertips on the glass, watching it leave ephemeral prints behind, "It's always been Natalia."

Peering into his blue eyes one last time, she took a step back, letting her hand fall from the glass.

"Goodbye Logan."

Without as much waiting for the beautiful murderer to reply back, she turned on her heels and began walking away. She never slowed down, she never stopped. He watched her silhouette disappear into the lights, relishing her essence, knowing it was the last time he would ever see her in his life.

He didn't realize when and how two officers entered the room, cuffing his hands as they led him out of there, back into his little cell. As the electric bars clicked into place, locking him in, he wordlessly went straight to lay down on his bed.

His eyes found the dozens of paintings he'd created in his time here, stuck to the walls. Sceneries, objects, people; you name it, he had it painted there.

All except for her.

He had tried drawing her before, only to realize she couldn't be his muse;

She was beyond art.

He closed his eyes, lost in the thoughts of the one he'd never forget for as many years as he were to live, the side of his lips curling up in peace finally.

"Goodnight Natalia."

✴✴✴

[DEDICATED TO EACH AND EVERY ONE OF MY LOVELY READERS]

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And that's a wrap folks. Thank you for sticking around for so long and believing in this book. Your comments have made my days for four years, and now Nightfall is finally complete.

Thank you, just thank you.

If you like my writing, please be sure to check my other works out.

Till then,

Ash.