"So, how's everything working out with you and my brother?"

Amy's shoulders rose and fell in a shrug--even though she knew her best friend couldn't see her--as she spoke into the pink Motorola phone she held to her ear, "it's going pretty good. Last night, we had a Jackass marathon. We ordered pizza, made popcorn and just laughed our asses off for about three hours. He was really determined to take my mind off all the shit with, well, you know." She rolled her eyes towards the ceiling, pulling the strap of her lavender Jansport backpack higher up on her right shoulder, just before she pulled open the door to the theatre arts building, in which she attended her Scene Study class once a week at Los Angeles Valley College. The heels of her black ankle-length boots clicked smartly against the white linolieum floors beneath her feet as she made her way towards room one o' one.

It had been exactly three days since she had broken-up with Victor, or tried to at least, and fortunetly for her, she hadn't heard a thing from him. As fortunate as it might be to Courtney or anyone else for that matter, the thought of what he might do next and the waiting for him to make a move terrified her to the core worse than being in his clutches. Her heart beat a little faster and her blood ran cold everytime she started thinking about it, much like now. At least she had more extraciricular activities to keep her mind off of that evil asshole. She had this class, and just recently had signed up for two other classes, Karate and ballroom dance lessons at the Arthur Murray studio. There was no way Victor would ever think to look for her at either of those places, so she was in the clear...for now at least.

Courtney sighed wearily. "Yeah, I know. Well, it's nice to know you guys are getting along so well and that Zack is so willing to help you forget that prick."

She smiled softly to herself. "We are. That first night I stayed there, I couldn't fall asleep so I got out of bed and went into the living room to watch TV. Zack had fallen asleep on the couch so he was there and when he woke up and saw me all depressed, he made me laugh for about fifteen or twenty minutes. He was making really insulting jokes about Victor and joking about how relationships suck in general. It really made me feel better."

"Well that was sweet of him! I'm definitely going to have to give him major kudos for that one."

"Yeah. Hey, have you..." Her voice trailed off, not so sure if she wanted to hear the answer to the question plaguing her mind, but nevertheless, she forced herself to push the lump down in her throat and went on anyway. "You haven't run into Victor lately, have you?"

After a few seconds of silence, Courtney replied. "No. Why? Have you?"

She sighed deeply, her heart quickening as before with the very thought of it. "No. I'm just..." She swallowed hard. "I'm just getting a little nervous, scared, no, make that terrified wondering when he'll come after me again. I know he will, the waiting is just killing me and with each day that goes by, I get even more worried about it."

"Hey, girl, listen to me, okay? This is a good thing. It's been three days and neither one of us have heard anything from him. Maybe it's meant to be this way. Maybe it's a sign from God or something that you're finally able to move on with your life. And hey, maybe if we're lucky, that prick finally grew a brain and decided to leave you the hell alone. If we're lucky, he's probably moved onto some other skank by now."

Her brows stitched together incriminatingly as she approached the door to the classroom, or auditorium rather, considering that's what it looked like from the inside. "Did you just call me a skank?"

Courtney exhaled sharply. "You know what I mean."

She nodded gently as she pulled the door open and stepped inside the brightly lit room, "yeah." Her friend didn't mean any offense by that remark, and she knew that. She meant the other girls he would probably pursue that were skanks.

The spacious classroom was divided up into three sections of red velvet, theatre style bucket seats, and long sloping aisles upholstered in a charcoal carpeting, leading down to a small stage that rose about four feet off the floor with an oak siding, two small staircases and a black linolieum surface that she remembered a couple students slipping on once or twice during their improv skits. Well, when their scenes got a little too wild that is. A black laminate desk belonging to her teacher, Mr. Pyles, sat off to the right of the stage and a large, white dry erase board sat behind the stage. There were two sets of double doors at the back of the room with which the students could enter into, one at the end of each aisle, and although she had no idea what the others were for, there were two more down in front, one at either side of the room.

It was only three minutes before the start of the class and about eighty percent of the thirty some students were already inside. She started down the first two aisles towards the front of the room, always liking to sit somewhere in the middle where she could clearly hear what Mr. Pyles was saying, and still have a good view of what was going on up front on the stage.

"Besides, if anyone can help keep your mind off of that scum bag, it's me and my brother. While Zack can keep you laughing and easily put a smile on your face with his goof ball antics, I recommend we take a trip to the mall or even catch a movie. We could go tonight, maybe catch the late show at the AMC. What do you say?"

"Maybe." She stopped walking about twelve rows back from the front, scooting past a few people to get to a vacant seat towards the opposite end of the row. "What did you want to see?"

"I was thinking Prom Night. It looks good and it's--"

"Prom Night?" Her jaw went slack, her voice taking on a sarcastic tone, "oh yeah, like that's going to help me forget my homicidal and vengeful ex-boyfriend." She caught a couple people turn their heads at those words and stare at her curiously, but she ignored their looks and went about her way.

"Right, sorry. Bad choice."

Slipping the strap of her backpack off her shoulder, she plopped down into the bucket seat and placed her bag at her feet. "No killer movies, please. That's the last thing I need right now."

"I got it. Hey, how bout 21? There's no killers in that movie, well, as far I know."

"Okay, that sounds good. We'll go see that." She looked up towards the front of the classroom. Her teacher still hadn't come in yet, but she knew that within a matter of seconds, the class would begin. "I gotta go though. My class is going to start and I don't want Mr. Pyles to take my phone away for using it. I'll call you later or you call me and let me know what time the movie starts."

"All right, girlie, will do."

"Have fun," she added in a singsong voice.

She chuckled softly. "I'll try. Later." Snapping her celluar closed after Courtney bid her good-bye, she checked the time on it. Six fourty six. Her class was scheduled for six fourty five every Thursday night. It wasn't very often that her teacher was late, but like everyone else, sometimes it was out of their control. A couple more students filed in and went off in seperate directions to find their sat forward, tucking the cell into the back pocket of her dark denim William Rast jeans before sitting back in her seat, and crossing her right leg over her left with a deep sigh.

Deciding she would pull out a book and start reading until he arrived, she leaned forward once more, reached into her bag, pulled out the book on self-defense techniques she had been studying these last few days, and began reading. She had gotten as far as a whole page and had even started to lose herself in the words when suddenly, a door at the front of the class opened and an eerily familiar and gravely voice sent her heart plummeting to the pit of her stomach, leaving her frozen in terror.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen!"

Rather than look up, she kept her gaze fixated on the book in her hands, shutting her eyes tightly and praying to the Lord above that she was just hearing things, but as much as tried to put it out of her mind, she could feel someone's gaze upon her, that same someone who had just spoken and struck fear in her heart. The heated and cold gaze of the person she feared most. No. No! No, damn it! It's just your imagination. That's all it is. You're not really hearing--

"I'm afraid Mr. Pyles won't be joining you this fine evening. He's a little...choked up at the moment, so he sent me in his place."

Yeah, she could only imagine just how "choked up" her teacher was, enough to kill him. She heard distinctly familiar heavy footsteps upon the oak steps of the stage down front, then, a few seconds later, the soft squeaking sound of a marker moving over a white board, followed by the clack of it being placed back into the metal tray beneath.

"I'm Mr. Bane, and I'll be your substitute for the evening."

The book slipped out of her fingers at the words, "Mr. Bane," instantly falling to the cement floor with a whoosh and an audible clack. A shiver danced down her spine, the unsettling feeling of that heated and cold gaze was back. Keeping her eyes shut, she willed herself to take a few calming deep breaths, attempting to slow her now pounding heart. Oh God, oh Jesus, oh heavenly father, please! Please, no!

This isn't real. She told herself. This can't be happening. It's just not happening. He's not here. He can't be here. You're dreaming. That's all it is, just a dream.

There were a few observant mumurs from the students around her, and then, an unsettling silence fell over the room. An unsettling silence that had her holding her breath and gripping the arms of her chair. God! That gaze was still on her, she could feel it, as if it were slowly burning a hole right through her body!

"Excuse me? You, sweetheart?"

She slowly opened her eyes, blinking a couple times, but refused to look up at him. There was no doubt in her mind that he was speaking directly to her, and at the same time, pretending not to know her name for the sake of playing this sick little role of his.

"Oh come on, don't be shy, sweetheart. Look at me when I'm talking to you. You, in the lavender and might I add, naughty little low-cutblouse."

Asshole. The sick fucking asshole! It didn't surprise her that he would make a smart ass and perverted remark like that. He was probably even undressing her with his eyes that very moment.

"Hey," an unfamiliar female called to her left. Feeling a tap on her shoulder, she turned her head towards the sound of the voice. The Caucasian girl with wavy blonde, shoulder-length hair and wide blue eyes motioned towards the asshole down in front, "I think he's talking to you."

Yeah, that was pretty obvious to her by now. She rolled her eyes dramatically and as much as she didn't want to, she forced herself to turn her head towards the front of the class, her eyes immediately filling with vexation as she fixed them upon, yes, her homicidal and vengeful ex-boyfriend, Victor Bane. He was standing on top of the stage, clad in a long black leather trenchcoat, grey shirt and black pants, his arms linked behind his back. Another shiver danced down her spine as they locked eyes with one another.

"What?" She asked irritably, as opposed to what she wanted to say, which was more along the lines of: What the hell do you want, asshole?

Despite the thirty some feet that seperated them, the look in those deep-set green eyes of his spoke volumes. They were filled with malicious intent, hatred, greed, and toxic lust. His brows furrowed incriminatingly, "'what?' 'What?' Now is that any way to speak to your substitute teacher? A good little student, better yet, a young woman with manners would answer with a polite, 'yes, Mr. Bane, how may I help you?' This is an acting class after all, isn't it? Now, why don't we try that again, hmm?"

Her eyes narrowed in vexation. The arrogant asshole! Who the fuck did he think he was? He was purposely trying to piss her off, but why? So she could humiliate herself in front of her classmates or something much worse? He could have a dozen motives, but she knew that the biggest motive of all was revenge. Revenge on her for playing him for a fool long enough to escape his clutches. He might be fucking with her at the moment just to get a rise out of her, for the sheer pleasure it gave him, but this wasn't even close to revenge. If he wanted revenge, he wouldn't do it this way. If she knew him well enough by now, and she did, she sensed he had a bigger plan in mind. Something bigger than kidnapping, tying up and torturing her. God! She shuddered to even think of reliving that torment all over again. Asshole!

Despite how terrified she was inside, she neglected to let him see that terror and simply held his gaze, her expression cold. No way in hell would she allow herself to be his victum anymore. She would be a stronger person now, and damn it, she wouldn't surrender to being the damsel-in-distress anymore. She was done! He cocked a challenging brow her way. She cocked one back, mocking him. Even from this distance, she could already see the smug smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He was definitely enjoying this.

"Of course, I could always inform Mr. Pyles of your rude behavior, who I'm sure will give the administrator a call, and I guarantee you, they will not be happy when they hear about this."

Shit! She couldn't win with him. No matter how well she thought she knew him, he would always surprise her by being one step ahead of her, doing things she couldn't possibly imagine would ever happen to her. What was he going to do? Threaten or blackmail her professor--assuming he wasn't dead--to rat her out? The asshole had his ways, he didn't have to remind her, despite the numerous times he would. She stole a glance in either direction of the classroom, sighing wearily when she noticed that everyone was staring at her. "Fine," she muttered. Fixing her furious gaze back on Victor, she spoke through clenched teeth, "yes, Mr. Bane, how might I help you?" There. Are you happy, you asshole?

"Close enough." He chuckled softly, almost sinisterly before putting his hands together and applauding her. "Bravo! Everyone give..." He stopped clapping suddenly, "sorry sweetheart, I didn't seem to catch your name, what is it?" His brows stitched together in thought and then rose expectantly.

Oh for God's sakes! He knew her fucking name! This whole act of pretending not to know her was getting old, very fast. Exhaling sharply, she shook her head in disbelief. "It's Amy," she replied tersely.

"Amy!" He nodded in regard, pointing a finger up at her, "I'll have to remember that one. Everyone give Amy a round of applause for being so willing to act like a proper young lady, and neglect from taking up anymore of our time. Come on, everyone!" He started applauding her again, and after a couple seconds, everyone else joined in, making her feel like a freak.

With her eyes firmly fixed on his own, she didn't give it another thought, let alone care what happened to her later and mouthed the word "asshole" to him. Just as she anticipated, he stopped clapping, a dangerous hatred now shining in his eyes. A hatred deadly enough to cause all oxygen to rush out of her body. Oh yeah, she knew without a doubt he would make her pay for that later. Two seconds later, that hatred disappeared and a mischievous and somewhat creepy smile crept across his face. She didn't know what that meant, but she didn't like it. All it did was manage to send a whole new set of shivers dancing down her spine.

As her classmates' applause died down, he turned on his heels and descended the side steps down to the black linolieum floor. "Well, now that that little misunderstanding is cleared up, let's get started on tonight's lesson plan, shall we?" Reaching under his coat, he pulled out a leather spiral bound notebook and walked towards the teacher's desk. Perching himself on the edge of the desk, he opened up the notebook to a page marked with what looked like a yellow post-it note and began scanning over the pages.

Asshole, evil fucking asshole.There was no way in hell she would be able to sit through these next three hours, especially not with this prick playing the role of her teacher. It would be so easy to just spring up to her feet and make it known loud and clear that "Mr. Bane" wasn't a real teacher at all, but a murderer, a rapist, a cold blooded criminal. Even if she did that, whose to say that anyone would believe her. That asshole would probably laugh his ass off, call her insane and tell her classmates not to listen to a single thing she said. Maybe she could just get up and walk out of there altogether, before it was too late. There would be no way he could drop everything and go after her without looking suspicious.

"So, what's on the agenda for tonight? Hmm? Improv." Victor's brows arched expectantly, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as he raised his gaze to the class. "Well, there's a fun little activity."

She shifted in her seat, and started reaching down to pick up her book that had fallen earlier, but froze when the two of them locked eyes. He held her gaze for a few long seconds, and for a minute, she actually thought that she was caught, that he knew what her intention was even before she made it. She was surprised that he hadn't made her wear a tracking device a few days ago when he dropped her off at work, but if he had, she wouldn't have had the chance to be free again. Well, she had a bad feeling that that freedom was about to be short lived. Now that he was here.

He averted his gaze back down to the notebook in his hands, his eyes narrowing considerably.

Now. Now was the time. She had to get up and get the hell out of there, as fast as she possibly could without him seeing her. His gaze was on the lesson book at the moment, not her. Quickly reaching down to pick up the book, she shoved it inside her backpack, slung the strap over her right shoulder, and rose to her feet, oblivious to how much noise she was making. Good thing she had grown out of the keychain addiction back in high school or those things would be clicking and clacking like crazy. Instead of heading back in the direction she had come, she went out the other way, scooting past a couple girls, excusing herself in a hushed whisper. No sooner had she stepped out into the aisle did that gravely voice stop her dead in her tracks.

"Ah, ah, ah! Hey!"

Damn it. She exhaled sharply, whirling around to face him and crossing her arms firmly over her chest.

He tossed the lesson plan notebook down on the desk beside him, his eyes narrowing irritably. "Just where do you think you're going, Amy? Huh?" His brows arched expectantly. "We we're just getting started."

Amy? Amy? Now he was calling her by her actual name? Not "sweetheart," "sweetie pie," "my sweet," "baby," or any of the other little pet names he was so fond of using with her and any other woman? She rolled her eyes dramatically. "Away," she replied gruffly. From you. Almost immediately after she replied did her classmates turn back to see Victor's reaction. What the hell did they think this was? A show? God! Instead of waiting to hear his response, much less see his reaction, she quickly whirled around and strode up the aisle towards the heavy double doors.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he warned, though not in a malicious tone as she would have normally expected.

He sounded as if he were a parent advising their son or in her case, daughter, what they shouldn't be doing, just before it got them into a heap of trouble, but honestly, what the hell could he do to stop her? He couldn't do shit. Not from where he was, and trying to rush after her just to kill or harm her in some way would be stupid on his part. There were far too many witnesses here to rule against him. She knew without a doubt that even he wouldn't be that stupid.

With each stride, she got closer to the door, and in turn, closer to freedom. A huge twinge of excitement stirred in her belly as she came to the double doors, but little did she know what awaited her outside of that room.

The moment she stepped out into the hallway, Victor's best friend, James, quickly came around the corner to her left and thrust a large bladed knife into her face, bringing her to an abrupt halt. Shit. Busted. She exhaled sharply. Figures that asshole would have this English scumbag out there playing watch dog. The pungent aroma of nicotine immediately filled her nostrils, making her want to vomit right there and then. The man reeked of it, so much so that she found herself holding her breath when he came closer.

The corners of his thin lips turned up into mischievous smirk. "Sorry love, but you're not going anywhere."

Despite the brave front she had tried painstakingly to put on for Victor, this guy with this very sharp knife in his hand had her trembling. Her eyes shifted in either direction of the hallway, hoping upon hope that someone, anyone, would pass by and come to her rescue.

The hallway was deserted. Students were more than likely either in class or had gone home for the day.

"There's not a single person round here who can help you, pet. You can go on and run, but if you did that, I'm afraid I'd just have to harm you." His brows drew together inquisitively. "You don't honestly want to make me do that, do you darling?"

Her eyes darted from the knife in his hand, to his face, and then back to the knife. Despite the fact that he appeared to be a regular English gentlemen on the outside, there was no telling exactly how homicidal this guy was. The two of them had only come in contact with one another a couple times in the past. Besides his name, his profession, his relationship to Victor and that fact that he was English, she didn't know much else about him. She swallowed hard before slowly raising her eyes up to meet with his. "What do you want from me?"

"Well, I don't want to harm you, I know that much. I don't exactly like hurting birds, specially not one as beautiful as you are." Her eyes widened in horror as the knife inched closer to her face, her heart pounding madly in her chest, her chest heaving up and down anxiously with each shallow breath she took. She shut her eyes tightly, praying that the man had some sense, some tenderness inside him that would keep him from actually stabbing her. Then, just when she thought she'd feel that knife cutting into her flesh, she instead felt the tip of the blade brush a few strands of hair out of her face. Slowly, she opened her eyes and met his intent gaze. "I told you I didn't want to harm you, love."

"And now...what? You're going to?" She asked, her voice trembling just the slightest bit. Her eyes shifted in either direction of the hall for the second time.

He pulled the knife back, gesturing towards the double doors she had just come out of. "Not if you take your pretty little bum back inside. Go on." He nodded towards the door. "Chop chop." Placing both of his strong masculine hands upon her shoulders, he turned her around, back in the direction of the door and although her eyes were following that knife in his hand, she jumped when she felt him give her ass an encouraging pat.

She shot a glare over her shoulder at him. "So, it's either go in and wait to get killed by him or stay out here and get killed by you. Are those my only two options?"

James sighed wearily. "Look, I don't make the bloody rules, darling. I just answer to the man. While I might not kill you, I have no qualms about maiming and detaining you. After all, my man Vic will hate me terribly if you're not alive when he gets his hands on you, and I can't allow that to happen." He stepped towards her, thrusting the knife into her face once more, "now are you going to get you bum back in there or shall I just get right to the maiming?"

Damn it! She was trapped! Trapping like a fucking mouse, just like she and Courtney were inside Victor's house while his rottweilers were outside waiting to burst through the windows and kill them, just like she was when Victor had kidnapped her and had her tied up in his basement. She could kick James in the crotch. If his reflexes were lousy, he would likely not be expecting that and she could then make a break for it. Oh what the hell was she thinking? He wasn't Victor's best friend for nothing. That asshole had probably taught this English man well, especially when it came to situations like this. Her shoulders slumped in defeat as she exhaled sharply, glancing at the knife and then up at James. "Fine."

"Smart girl," James remarked with a smirk.

Amy shot him one last glare before turning back to the door before her. She took a deep breath, said a silent prayer in her head and pulled the door open, slipping back inside the room. Victor seemed to be in the middle of some sort of lecture in regards to acting and how best to get into character. It both pissed her off and surprised her how well this asshole could fool her classmates into thinking that he was an actual drama teacher. It probably came so damn easy to him because he was a director. A director of adult films, but still, a director.

"All it takes to be a good actor is the right--Amy! How nice of you to join us! Again." A wicked grin curled his lips as he turned his attention back to the class. "I told you she'd be back."

She rolled her eyes and exuded a scoff. What the hell had he been doing? Talking shit about her while she was gone? Probably. The arrogant bastard had probably expressed to them what a troublemaker she was or how stupid she was for even walking out in the first place.

"Take a seat," he insisted firmly, the malicious look in his eyes giving her every indication that he was in no mood for her to refuse, let alone wait for her to make up her mind.

Stealing a glance back in the direction she had come, she sighed deeply. She was screwed either way she looked at it. If she left, she'd be hurt by James, if she stayed, she'd eventually have to face the demon of all evil bastards, Victor. Her shoulders slumped in defeat. At least in here, there were witnesses around if Victor tried anything with her, which she was sure he most likely would. Without another word, she made her way back to the seat she had been sitting in before, but she didn't make it farther than the first seat of the aisle before his voice had her stopping short.

"Better yet, why don't you come take a seat down here. That way I can prevent you from further disrupting my class."

She whirled around to face him, and although his features were somber, she could have sworn she saw a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Sit down there? Closer to him? Closer to getting hurt? Like hell she would. "No, Mr. Bane. I'm fine sitting where I was before, thank you," she retorted tersely. And that's exactly what she did. She scooted past the couple girls she had earlier and continued back to her seat, whether he liked it or not. Once she was seated, she crossed her right leg over her left and her arms firmly over her chest, fixing her eyes on him in a challenging glare, just daring him to bring on whatever the hell he had. She could deal with it. She would force herself to because she wasn't his bitch or his victum anymore.

His eyes narrowed incriminatingly. Suddenly, that little smile he seemed to be holding back finally appeared on his face, mischief dancing in his eyes once again. With a clear of his throat, he turned his attention away from her and started pacing back and forth. "So, it's improv night, huh? Well, what exactly do these little improv lessons of yours usually consist of? Anyone?" His eyes traveled from one side of the classroom to the other, his brows arching expectantly.

A hispanic guy off to the far right side of the class raised his hand. He was slightly muscular with spikey black hair, blonde streaks, piercing brown eyes, stubbly jaw and was clad in a pair of white and red Adidas sneakers, dark denim jeans, and black T-shirt that read: "I live in my own little world, but it's okay, they know me here. "

Victor looked over at the guy, his arms still linked behind his back as he walked towards him. "Yes, Mr...?"

"Ortiz," the hispanic guy replied simply. "Jacob Ortiz. Just call me Jacob."

He nodded in regard. "Fine, Jacob. What is it?"

"Mr. Pyles usually picks a theme each week, he either partners us up or picks groups then has us perform skits centered around the theme he picked."

"Really?" He chuckled softly, turning on his heels and walking back in the opposite direction. "Interesting. Very, very interesting."

Shit. She shook her head in disbelief. Something was going to happen. Something bad and she didn't like it, not one bit. She could almost see the gears turning in Victor's head with what little scheme he could concoct. Suddenly, she wasn't feeling so confident about choosing to stay in this purgatory.

Victor stopped pacing, locked eyes with her for about two long seconds before addressing the class. "Well, I might not be Mr. Pyles, but since I happen to be your teacher for the time being, I've decided tonight's theme will be...crime."

Oh Jesus. Blinking back her astonishment, she let her eyes wander around the room as her classmates fell silent. This sick bastard was serious, wasn't he? Of course he was. That solemn and determined look on his face told her that much, but as soon as soon she got over her initial surprise, it made sense that he would choose that as the theme of their skits. She narrowed her eyes irritably at him as they met eyes. Asshole.

"Oh come on, we're all adults here, aren't we? We're not in high school anymore boys and girls. I expect most of you are mature enough by now to be able to handle something as simple as a crime scene. So to speak. After all, it is only acting on your part. I see no harm in that."

But not on your part, you evil bastard. She rolled her eyes as she slumped down in her chair. Jacob's hand shot up suddenly to which Victor called upon him.

"Are we going to be partnered up for this one or in groups?" Jacob inquired.

"You know, now that you mention it, I think partners would be the most suitable for this little assignment. Of course, I do have one rule. No same sex partnerships. I want every partnership to be one male, one female. That way, it's more realistic. Not to mention, it'll make for some interesting little scenes. So..." He clapped his hands together, his eyes roaming from one side of the room to the other, "any questions? Comments? Complaints?"

Figures. Her eyes darted around the room, hoping that someone would be smart enough to see through this act of his, or at least have the courage to speak up and tell him he could take his assignment and shove it up his ass, where it belonged. Some shook their heads, others exchanged inquisitive glances, but unfortunetly and much to her disgust, no one seemed willing to debate with him on this, let alone speak a single word about it. She exhaled sharply, shaking her head in disbelief.

Victor's lips stretched into a smug smile. "Excellent. Well, let's get started then, shall we?"

Suddenly, a skinny Caucasian guy seated about five rows in front of her with short, wavy blonde hair raised his hand. "Mr. Bane?"

Her eyes widened in surprise, a somewhat allieviated sigh escaping her. Yes! Oh thank you God, someone is going to stop this asshole!

"Yes, Mr...?"

"Stentson. Josh Stentson. I have a question."

"What is it, Mr. Stentson?"

Amy held her breath, praying that that question would be something along the lines of, "what the hell is wrong with you?" Or better yet, "are you criminally insane?" That would be a huge kick in the ass to him and it would probably piss him off to boot.

"Just how far do you want us to go with these skits?"

What! No! Her heart fell at the question, wanting nothing more than to smack some sense into that guy, right now, before he got in over his head.

A soft chuckle escaped Victor's lips, "I'm delighted you asked that, Josh." He looked up, addressing the entire class, "Josh has just asked me how far I'd like these little skits to go. Well, I'll be happy to personally demonstrate exactly what I'd like to see from all of you..."

"Oh God," she muttered, propping her right elbow up on the arm of her chair before placing her hand against her forehead and slumping even further down in her seat, averting her gaze to her lap.

"But first, I'll need a volunteer, a little help from one of you lovely ladies."

She scoffed, rolling her eyes at those words. Yeah, right, like every girl in that room was going to jump at the opportunity to play "psycho killer" with him. Not! Well, definitely not her. That was for damn sure. After a couple of seconds, a girl down in front spoke up, volunteering to be that victum he wanted, but he did not respond to the girl's invite. Two seconds later, another girl spoke up, but still, he neglected to respond. She was partly tempted to look up, but why should she care? She wasn't his play thing anymore and that was all there was to it. "Evil fucking asshole," she mumbled to no one in particular.

The room was silent as a creepy feeling washed over her. That same creepy feeling she had gotten earlier when he had been staring at her.

"Amy!"

The shrill and commanding tone of Victor's voice nearly made her jump out of her skin. She grabbed a hold of her chest, her heart pounding madly out of fright. As much as she didn't want to, she found herself slowly raising her eyes to meet his, glaring coldly at him, wondering what the hell he wanted now. Had he heard her call him an evil fucking asshole? Well, good. He deserved it.

"Since you clearly seem to have some unresolved issues with me, I think its only fair that you come down here and participate in this little demonstration of mine."

Her jaw went slack as she blinked back her astonishment. "What! Oh, hell--!"

"Unless you'd much rather leave my classroom...and try your luck outside again." He cocked a challenging brow up at her. "Your choice."

While his last words might have flown completely over everyone else's head, she knew she was screwed if she went that route. James would hurt her, probably tie her up or something and hold her captive somewhere until Victor came for her, and when he did, he would not be pleased with her. In fact, he'd probably be ten times more pissed than he was already. Her eyes narrowed incriminatingly on him before she glanced around at the other students, their eyes entirely on her.

"I can do it, Mr. Bane!" A brunette down in front spoke up, perching herself on the edge of her seat and raising her hand wildly in the air, giving her every indication that the girl was probably hot for him, in some way shape or form and fully ready to be the mouse to his cat. She was Caucasian with straight, shoulder-length hair, large brown eyes and lanky figure, clad in a denim mini skirt and tight fitting red tank top. Just the type of girl that Victor probably would favor, that is, if he didn't seem so intent on getting revenge on her right now. "I can play the victum."

Victor barely glanced in the brunette's direction. "Sorry sweetheart, but I'd prefer it if Amy be the victum." With his determined and malicious gaze firmly fixed on her face, she felt a new set of shivers dance down her spine. He folded his hands over his belly, pressing the tips of his fingers against each other. "I don't have all day, Amy. You want to take your chances outside, leave my class now, but if you're staying, I suggest you get up right now and join me down here in front. Or would you like me to come up there and get you myself?"

Pushing down a huge lump that had formed in her throat, she took one last glance around before sitting up and uncrossing her legs. Oh, get a hold of yourself! She tried to reassure herself that he wouldn't do anything to her. After all, he couldn't. There were far too many witnesses there. They'd see and then he'd be in deep shit. She said a silent prayer in her head before slowly pushing herself up to her feet and moving just as slowly to scoot past the other students. She heard Victor exhale a loud and impatient sigh, but she didn't bother moving any faster.

"Well if you're going to move that slow..." He started before she heard his footsteps moving quickly across the floor.

She looked up suddenly and saw him marching towards her. "I'm coming!" She snapped. "Just wait! God!" He came to a stop about fifteen feet up from the head of the aisle. Her heart pounded fiercely the closer she got to him. It had been three days since she had been so close to him, and not exactly in a good way, but just the prospect of being in his arms again, in his clutches, made her shudder involuntarily. When she was four feet away from him, he took her arm firmly in his left hand and placed his right against the small of her back, leading her the rest of the way down to the stage. She tried to yank her arm out of his grasp, but his grip only got tighter.

"You're hurting me, asshole," she growled in a low tone that only he would hear.

"Please, I haven't even begun to hurt you, my sweet," he murmured in her ear. "When I get started, believe me, I'll do worse than this."

She groaned, wincing at the pain radiating through her arm. Maybe she'd be better off taking her chances with James. Maybe he'd be gentle. Maybe not. She really had no idea what to expect from the man, but considering he was literally this asshole's partner-in-crime, her chances didn't look good.

"Now get your ass up there," he snarled, giving her a small shove in the direction of the steps, speaking to her in nothing louder than a whisper.

She gasped at the shove, nearly stumbling over her own feet as she came to the steps. Resisting the urge to flip him off or make any sort of snide remark, she squared her shoulders and stepped up onto the stage. Sighing deeply, she crossed her arms defensively over her chest, glancing out at the rest of her classmates. They watched the two of them inquisitively and expectantly, clearly anticipating and curious about what was to come. Her cold gaze shifted down to Victor. Okay asshole, now what?

He glanced back at her, maliciousness gleaming in his eyes, a ghost of a smile on his face. "Now, I might have addressed it before, but for those of you who are just tuning in, Amy," he gestured to her with a wave of his hand, "will be playing the victum in this little skit, and I, will be playing the criminal."

Amy scoffed. "Yeah, all your life," she muttered with a roll of her eyes, shivering involuntarily when he shot a deadly glare back in her direction, clearly having heard her remark.

Tugging at the collar of his dress shirt, he turned on his heels and walked towards the opposite side of the stage. She tensed, assuming he was going to join her up on stage, but her brows furrowed inquisitively when he continued past it and stopped behind Mr. Pyles desk. His eyes roamed over the few items on top of the desk, but nothing appeared to interest him so he turned his attention to the drawers beneath. He opened up the first one to his left, closed it, opened up the first one to his right and smiled smugly to himself, reaching inside and pulling out a silver letter opener with a rosewood handle.

A letter opener? What the hell was he going to do with a letter opener? Well, she had a couple ideas, but none that she liked or even wanted to contemplate. Her heart started to pound in her chest, as she forced herself to push down the huge lump in her throat.

After shutting the drawer, Victor turned his attention to the rest of the class, "once you start acting, you'll come to find that not only are facial expressions and emotions a key part of what makes a scene so realistic, but props can play an even bigger part in bringing that scene to life. Take for instance this letter opener," he held up the object in his hand, "we might not have any real weapons on hand, or even fake ones for that matter, but for the sake of the scene, I'm going to pretend for a minute that this letter opener is a knife."

Shit. She blinked, a part of her having seen that one coming. Resisting the urge to shudder or even emote a whimper for that matter, she tried to reassure herself that he would not hurt her. Not here. Not in this classroom, and definitely not in front of everyone, but that reassurance was beginning to slip away as they got closer to performing this damn "scene."

"Watch and learn, ladies and gentlemen, as I show you exactly what it takes to make a great crime scene." He turned his attention on her, his eyes shining with malicious intent, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Fisting the handle part of the letter opener, he turned the pointed end face up, gripping it the same way he would an actual knife.

Her heart was pounding so hard by this point, she feared that even James could hear how frightened she was, but that fear wasn't just on account of stage fright. It was on account of the evil bastard before her. As he climbed the few steps up to the stage, she took a step backward, then another, trying to put as much distance as she could between them. "What are you going to do? Stab me with that thing? Get, away from me, you asshole!"

Victor chuckled softly and sinisterly, inching towards her, the maliciousness still gleaming in his eyes. "Oh, sweetheart, you know damn well if I were going to stab you, it wouldn't be here, and the special little knife I'd be using would be much, much sharper than this." In one large stride, he seized her by the neck and slammed her back against the white board behind them. She winced painfully as her head hit the board with a hard bang, stunning her, darkness flashing behind her eyes for a few long seconds, the metal tray beneath digging painfully into her lower back. A few of her classmates gasped, clearly not expecting such an abrupt display of violence, but continued watching intently at the scene unfolding before them.

She quickly reached up to grab a hold of his wrist, managing to croak out a response. "Let go of me!" Panic loomed over her head, gripping her heart and causing her thoughts to race. She had to do something. Fast! He might not kill her in front of everyone, but he could still hurt her, badly. Recalling back to her self-defense studies, she wriggled beneath him, struggling to raise her right knee and shove it into his groin, but it was easier said than done with his large and muscular upper body pressing her firmly against the wall.

"Oh, so you want to fight back now, huh?" He exuded another sinister chuckle, reaching down with the hand that held the letter opener and grabbing a hold of her knee, shoving it back down to the floor. Releasing his hold on her neck, he gripped her jaw firmly in his hand, leaned in and sneered into her ear, "I like this new and hostile little Amy. In fact, it's turning me on."

"Louder!" A guy shouted from the back of the classroom. "We can't hear you!"

Ignoring the guy's pleas, Amy growled and continued to struggle beneath Victor, trying to shove her oppposite knee into his crotch, but he blocked that one with his own knee and instead, thrust it hard against her belly, knocking the air out of her and causing her knees to buckle beneath her.

"Not so tough now, are you sweetie pie?" He snarled.

She groaned painfully, grabbing a hold of her stomach with both hands, sinking down to her knees as soon as he let go of her jaw and backed away from her.

"You thought you could escape me." He spoke loudly, twisting and turning the letter opener between his fingers. "You thought you could play me for a fucking fool and get away with it? Think again, my sweet. No one and I mean no one double crosses me and lives to tell about it."

She coughed a couple times, trying to get her breathing back on track from the tight grip he'd had on her neck, as well as from that knee into her gut. Pain throbbed violently in her belly, radiated through her jaw and a migraine was already starting to form in her head from that blow a moment ago. Slowly, she raised her chin, glaring coldly up at him. Her eyes shifted in either direction of the classroom, hoping that maybe someone in there would be able to see through this asshole's act and realize that it was not fantasy, but reality.

No one moved. No one even said a word. They just stayed where they were, watching the two of them as quietly and attentively as they would if they were at the movie theatre watching a flick.

Yeah, a slasher flick. She thought with a roll of her eyes. "Well I will." Placing her hands on either sides of the wall, she slowly pushed herself up to a standing position and stepped away from the white board, still holding her belly. "I'll live to tell about it, and if you try and hurt me again, I'm going to beat your fucking ass! I'm not going to be your victum anymore and I'm definitely not going to be your girlfriend. Just stay out of my life!"

Noticing the muscles in his jaw clench, she tried not to tense up. Clenching his teeth, he stepped towards her, pressing the sharp point of the letter opener against her throat. She gasped softly, her hands falling away from her stomach as she stood frozen. "Do you honestly think you're strong enough to beat my fucking ass? Huh?" He cocked a challenging brow down at her.

She swallowed hard, her gaze never leaving his face, trying hard not to shake under the point of that object. He wouldn't slit her throat. Well, not here anyway and not now. "I'm not afraid of you," she insisted, surprised and at the same time, disappointed to hear a slight shake in her voice.

He chuckled sinsterly. "Sweetheart, who the hell do you think you're kidding? Certainly not me. I can hear it in your voice, I even see it in your eyes, you'd running screaming right now if only you could. I gotta hand it to you though, this brave front you're putting up intrigues me. It's been a while since I've seen this spunky and sassy little side of yours. I guess that little bitch Courtney is really rubbing off on you, huh? Why don't the two of you come back to my place, and you can rub off on each other for my viewing pleasure?"

He'd like that, wouldn't he? Fucking pervert! Her eyes narrowed irritably. "You're a sick fuck, you know that? I might not be able to take you down but I can still kick your ass."

His brows arched expectantly. "You can kick my ass?" He pressed the point of the letter opener a little deeper into her throat, sending a sting of pain shooting upward. She was sure he had probably cut her, but she was too afraid to look down. Finally, after a few long and nerve wracking seconds of silence, he pulled the letter opener away from her throat and took a couple steps back, his gaze never leaving her face. He opened his arms to her as a smug smile crept across his face. "Give it your best shot."

Amy blinked. Was he serious? He was actually going to let her hurt him? In front of--no, wait. This was a trick. It had to be. He was trying to trick her, trying to provoke her into hurting him to either get her into trouble, make her look like a fool, or provoke him into hurting her even more. Or maybe, maybe it was for a totally different reason altogether. With Victor, that was definitely a possibility. Anything was possible. She took a few small steps towards the left side of the stage. He followed her movements, turning his body towards her with each step she took. Within a matter of seconds, the two of them were standing across from one another at either sides of the stage, looking at each other similar to two gunslingers in a western before the first draw.

Her eyes narrowed in vexation. He narrowed his eyes back in the same manner, clearly "mocking" her. After a few seconds, she exhaled sharply, standing her ground. "I don't have a damn thing to prove to you. I know what you're trying to do and I'm not going to fall for it."

His brows arched expectantly then furrowed considerably. "Is that so? And what is it I'm trying to do exactly?"

"This! This whole act. You're trying to lure me into a trap or something. You're trying to trick me. I already know how your mind works. You wouldn't have brought me up here if you weren't trying to get some kind of revenge on me."

"If you're so certain I'm trying to get revenge on you, why aren't you doing anything to stop me? Huh?"

"I am stopping you! I'm stopping you by..." Her voice trailed off. Come to think of it, she didn't even know the answer to that question herself. God knew she had already done what this prick wanted her to do, came down there willingly to supposedly "act" out this skit with him, and now, what the hell was she waiting for? Would it even end? Or was he intent on keeping her up there for the remaining two hours just to toy with her mind and her body? She definitely couldn't stop him by walking out on him because then she'd have James to deal with, who, might not be a English gentlemen at all, but a sadistic prick just like Victor. Why take her chances?

"Exactly. You're not doing a damn thing to stop me. As of right now, I hold the power. I hold your very life in my hands. Since all you seem to want to do is talk instead of fight, that tells me only one thing. You're running out of options. Honestly, I could give a shit what you do, but I know what I want to do..." He started to stride towards her, but she quickly whirled around to run away from him or she tried to at least. She didn't make it more than a foot before his arm snaked out, wrapped around her waist and yanked her against him.

Her back collided hard with his solid chest and she gasped. Feeling the head of his errection--as rock hard as his chest--pressing firmly against her hip, she found herself shuddering involuntarily. She felt heat pool between her legs, but as good as it felt and as arroused as it was starting to make her, that pleasure was short lived because the next thing she knew, he was pressing the sharp point of the letter opener against her throat. With his right arm securely around her waist, he turned the two of them to face the audience before them. Her chest rose and fell rapidly with each shallow breath she took, as she stared out at the faces of her classmates. They watched the two of them in quiet but curious astonishment, awaiting their next move.

Victor turned his head, pressing the letter opener harder against her throat, his respirations rapid and heavy, his breath hot against her right ear and the curve of her neck. "You scared of me now, baby? Huh?"

Pushing down the huge lump in her throat, she stiffly shook her head, wincing beneath the letter opener as it dug harder into her neck. "N-no, you asshole. I'm not."

His brows arched expectantly. "Oh, you're not, huh? Well, what if I slit your throat right here and now, leave you here to bleed out, then would you be scared of me?"

She shuddered, shutting her eyes tightly and crying out in pain as the letter opener started to pierce her throat. "Stop! Please!" Although her eyes weren't open, she heard some of her classmates gasp. Suddenly, the pressure of the letter opener eased on her throat, giving her room to breathe but it didn't stop the fiery pain from throbbing through her throat. As shaken as she was from this whole scene, the rapid caress of his breath against her neck, and the warmth of his arm around her waist was starting to arrouse her deep in her loins, causing her most private area to tingle and clench with desire.

"Fight me," he commanded her. "Fight me, you little bitch! I know damn well you want to."

She exhaled sharply, trembling against the letter opener pressing lightly to her throat. How the fuck would she be able to fight him like this? His grasp was so strong and with the letter opener in the position it was, how would she be able to move without him cutting through her throat...again? She had been studying up on both martial arts and self-defense, but she couldn't remember a single manuever to get out of this position. She groaned wearily. "Why? Why should I bother to fight you?"

"Why?" His brows arched expectantly as he resorted to shouting. "Why!" She jumped, cringing as his booming voice rang in her ears. He thrust the head of his errection harder against her hip. "Because it turns me on," he growled.

She gasped, squirming against him, but suddenly wishing she hadn't done that because the very action caused the letter opener to scrape roughly and painfully against her throat, sending a burst of fiery pain up through her throat.

"Just like that does," he cooed into her ear, causing a fresh rush of heat to rocket straight down to her loins. "And if you want to live, sweetheart, you damn well better fight me."

Okay, think. She had to think, fast! She would live. She had to live. He couldn't kill her right there and then, and she had to keep reminding herself of that, but as the minutes ticked by, she wasn't feeling so sure about that anymore. He wanted her to fight him? Well, okay. You asked for it asshole, and you're going to get it...hard! She quickly jammed her right elbow into his gut, as hard as she possibly could.

He groaned, but it didn't sound like a painful groan. It sounded more along the lines of an irritable one. He let out a chuckle of amusement. "Oh come on, baby, is that all you got?"

"No," she retorted snidely. She stomped hard down on the toe of his right foot. Finally, he groaned painfully, and when his hold around her waist went slack and the pressure on her throat lessened, she used that moment of weakness to her advantage. Turning her neck and her hip slightly to the right, she brought her right elbow up again and gave him a quick jab in his eye, much to the sudden shock of her classmates. Most of them gasped, others cried out and cursed softly in surprise. The impact of the jab combined with the stomp on his toe sent Victor stumbling backward, growling angrily in pain. Doubling over, he grabbed a hold of his eye, breathing heavily. Using what little time she had, she whirled around and backed away towards the right side of the stage, put a good five feet between them.

"You little bitch!" He shouted angrily, lifting his chin to glare up at her, his features as cold as ice, his eyes so malicious, it appeared as though the pits of Hell laid behind them. That mere look sent a shiver down her spine, but she pushed down the huge lump in her throat, squared her shoulders and tried as she might not to let it show, let alone give him the satisfaction that she was terrified beyond belief of what he might do to her once he finally got her alone. "You'll regret that."

"Well you asked for it." She argued, trying to make her voice sound as calm as possible. One mere shake of her voice and it would give him the upper hand. He would know that he had won, that he had struck fear in her heart yet again. "And by the way, this sick little game of yours is over with. I'm done!" He lunged at her and she cried out, descending the steps on the side of the stage as quick as her feet could carry her and didn't stop until she was half-way up to her seat.

Victor righted himself, fisting the letter opener in his hand and moving towards the end of the stage, his vengeful gaze still fixated upon her face. He looked as if he were going to leap off of that very stage and come after her, maybe chase her around the rest of the room for a while longer, but before he could get the chance, all of a sudden, the whole class broke out into a round of applause. He blinked a couple times, narrowing his eyes incriminatingly on the class.

Her brows furrowed inquisitively as she glanced around at her classmates. Why were they applauding? Did they actually enjoy that hell he'd just put her through? Realization hit her like a kick to the gut. They really had no idea just how criminally insane this asshole was. The whole thing had been nothing but an act to them, a slasher scene filled with thrills and chills. She rolled her eyes dramatically, exhaled sharply and crossed her arms firmly over her chest, looking over at Victor, who seemed to be just as irritated by their applause as she was.

His icy cold gaze shifted from one side of the class to the other before fixating upon her. Even from where she stood, she could sense he wanted desperately to finish her off, right there and then, but at least there seemed to be a bruise forming where she'd elbowed him. The asshole deserved it and damn did it feel good to finally make him pay a little bit for everything he'd put her through before.

"It's over, Mr. Bane!" She shouted, as her classmates' applause began to die down. "I did my part in your demonstration or 'scene,' whatever you want to call it. Just let it go already!" She sighed deeply. If only that were true, but this prick would never, ever, let anything go, especially not her. He would just keep coming...until he killed her.

Slowly, he lowered the letter opener to his side and shrugged his shoulders, as if he were trying to shake off his rage, but it didn't manage to shake off the vexation still gleaming in his eyes. Even as she made her way back to her seat, she could see him watching her out of the corner of her eye. She chanced a glance back in his direction. He was watching her every movement as quietly observant and maliciously determined as a lion stalking its prey.

She quickly averted her gaze elsewhere, knowing that if she stared at him too long, she'd start to shiver or shudder. No sooner after she was seated did the maliciousness vanish from his eyes and she saw him relax. She watched him curiously as he glanced down at the letter opener still in his hand, then proceeded to slip it under his coat. Evidence. That action said it all. He was just trying to cover his ass by removing it from the premesis, more than likely to keep it away from Mr. Pyles to use against him. Well, if he was still alive that is.

Tugging at the collar of his leather coat, he exhaled sharply, opening his arms and addressing the class now that everyone was quiet again. "That is what I expect to see from all of you, and gentlemen," he fixed his suddenly cold gaze on her, "I hope you took into consideration the mistake I made of letting a petite and spiteful little thing like Amy have the upper hand in our little scene." His eyes wandered away from her face as he continued, "as hard as playing the villian might make some of you, it's not always wise to let your dick think for you. Hopefully most of you will come to find by now that not every story has a happy ending. There are no happy endings in life, much less in acting. It's not about whether you live or you die. It's about power. When you're playing a role such as mine, it's always about power."

Blinking back her astonishment, she shook her head in disbelief. Was that why this asshole liked to torture, tease, maim, rape and kill people? For the power it gave him or to for how hard it made him to do it? She didn't know half of what went on inside his head most of the time, but maybe it was better not knowing. Sometimes ignorance really was bliss. Crossing her arms firmly over her chest, she shook her head once more. Bringing one of her hands up to her throat, her fingers brushed against what felt like a long and shallow cut, immediately sending a sting of fiery pain rocketing up to her chin. With a wince and a hiss, she pulled her hand back and looked down at the red spots on her fingers, the sight of her own bright red blood causing her stomach to turn. Holding her hand over the cut, she fixed her eyes on Victor in an icy cold glare. He stared back at her with an arrogant smirk upon his face. Her eyes narrowed in vexation. Fucking asshole! I'm bleeding because of you!

"Any questions? Comments?" His eyes darted from one side of the room to the other, his brows arching expectantly. Josh, the guy down in front with the wavy blonde hair raised his hand. Victor nodded to him in regard, "yes, Mr. Stentson?"

"That was intense, Mr. Bane, but shit, it was awesome!" Josh remarked enthusiastically.

Awesome? Amy blinked incredulously. He thought Victor coming after her with a letter opener and threatening to slit her throat right in front of them was awesome? Was he sick in his head or just a junior version of this asshole obsessed with slasher movies? Guys nowadays just loved the blood and gore of horror flicks, and why? Because it was awesome? If that was what he thought, she hoped Josh burned in hell...right along with Victor.

"Mr. Pyles never gets up and does anything like that for us. You're the shit man!"

Victor chuckled in delight. "Why thank you. I'm pleased you think so. Perhaps you could learn a thing or two from my performance."

Josh laughed. "Oh, no way man. I could never act like that. You really had me, and I think everyone in this room believing you were really a killer." He glanced around at the other students around him, some of them nodding their heads in agreement.

A ghost of a smile came over Victor's face. "Seeing is believing, kid. When you're an actor, realism is everything. If you don't capture the attention of the audience, your performance is for shit. As for acting like me, well, experience takes time. Never say never. If you want to scare the shit out people, the sweet and innocent little thing playing your victum, and bring life to the scene, you have to get in touch with your evil side." He reached out, slowly curling the fingers of his right hand into a fist, locking eyes with her for about two long seconds before turning his attention back to Josh, "you gotta reach out, grab them by the throat and force them to believe you're as sadistic a man as the character you're playing."

Her blood ran cold, feeling yet another shiver creep up her spine as soon as they met eyes. She didn't know whether it was the calm and conspiratorial tone of his voice or the words he was using, but the whole speech only made him ten times more terrifying in her eyes than he had been before. Plus, being in that room with him, and now, over a handful of new admirers of the evil son of a bitch was more than a little unsettling. Stealing a glance at the clock on the wall, she noticed that she still had about an hour and fourty five minutes left before class was over, but knowing him, he'd probably keep her and everyone there an extra hour or half an hour just for kicks. Asshole!

"I think I got it now." Josh nodded in regard. "Thanks for the advice."

"My pleasure." Victor turned his attention back to the class. "Any other questions or comments?" Some students shook their heads, others remained quiet. "Good, then we'll get started. Pair up everyone! Male to female."

While the rest of her classmates got up to find themselves a partner of the opposite sex, she remained where she was, intent on turning down any guy that dared try and get her to be their partner. As much as she would love to piss Victor off, and she knew it would, she wasn't in the mood to take part in another sick and twisted game of "psycho killer." If the rest of the guys in her class knew what was good for them, they would stay the fuck away. Leaning forward, she reached down with her free hand and unzipped the front pocket on her backpack, pulling out a piece of kleenex and holding it against her throat, putting pressure on her cut to stop the bleeding. Great, another cut from Victor Bane, might as well add it to the other traces of pain he'd left behind on her body.

He clapped his hands together, stealing a glance at the clock on the wall himself. "I'll give you all about twenty minutes or so to get acquainted and brainstorm some ideas for this skit of yours. After that, it's showtime."

She glanced in either direction of the classroom, but none of the guys in her class seemed to be heading in her direction. Good. They knew better. It only took a few minutes before everyone was partnered up and they began making introductions and exchanging ideas. Leaning back in her seat, she continued holding the kleenex against her wound, trying to put her mind somewhere else other than there. God, why had she bothered coming to class tonight? Why? She should have just stayed home. Maybe if she had, she could be curled up in front of the TV right now watching a Mandy Moore movie or something. Maybe a re-run of Charmed. She could even be at the movies with Courtney, but no, she had to come to class. As much as she tried to put her mind elsewhere, curiosity and plain fear had her eyes wandering back in Victor's direction.

Her brows furrowed inquisitively, a brief moment of panic gripping her by the throat when she realized that he was no longer on stage. He was leaning back in Mr. Pyles' chair, his feet propped up on the surface of the desk, his ankles crossed one over the other, and his somber gaze fixed upon her. Her eyes narrowed in vexation as he puckered his lips to her, sending her two tiny kisses, right before his lips stretched into a smug smile. He thought he was pretty clever, didn't he? Sitting there as if he had no cares in the world, watching her every move, taking pleasure in the fear he was bringing to her, the fear he had been bringing to her for years now. Without giving it another thought, she gave him the finger.

His lips curled into an evil grin as he reached down, patting the errection bulging out of his slacks, and letting his tongue roll over his upper lip. Despite the warmth she felt rising up in her cheeks, she scoffed, rolled her eyes and turned her head away, putting her focus on something else. "Sick fuck," she mumbled. Was there anything she could do that wouldn't spark some kind of response from him? Well, besides a perverted one? Probably not. Exhaling sharply, she sat forward, reached into her backpack and pulled out her black video iPod. He couldn't stop her from listening to music, and maybe it would help to pass the time so she could finally get the hell out of there. After putting the ear buds into her ears, she turned on her iPod and slumped down in her seat. She pulled the kleenex away from her throat, glancing down at the thin lines of blood on it, folded it over and pressed a clean part of it back against her cut, hoping the bleeding would stop soon. It couldn't be that deep, could it?

Even though she had averted her gaze to her lap, she could still feel the unsettling gaze of that asshole. She didn't have to look up to know that he was still staring at her. The hollowness she felt in her chest and the fear settling in her gut was all she needed to tell her that he still had his sights set upon her. Suddenly, "Walk Away" by her favorite artist, Christina Aguilera, began playing on her iPod. As the lyrics of the song rang in her ears, her heart constricted in her chest and a couple tears started roll down her cheeks. Why was this song making her cry? It had never made her cry before, but then again, she'd never been in such a relationship.

I should have known

That I was used for amusement

Couldn't see through the smoke
It was all an illusion

Now I've been licking my wounds

But the venom seeps deeper

We can both seduce

But darlin' you hold me prisoner

Maybe it was making her cry because, now, she was in that kind of relationship. Now, she could truly relate to the lyrics of this song, and as it continued, so did the tears falling from her eyes. She brought one of her hands up to wipe the tears from her cheeks, shutting her eyes and at the same time, trying to put her mind on something else, pretend she was somewhere else. Anywhere but there, but the melancholy and painful lyrics of the song weren't helping.

Everytime I try to grasp for air

I get smothered in despair,

It's never over, over, oh

Seems I'll never wake from this nightmare

I let out a silent prayer

Let it be over, over, ooh

Inside I'm screaming,

Begging, pleading, no more

Suddenly, before she could prevent it from happening, much less care what anyone else thought, she started sobbing softly. Shutting off her iPod, she took the ear buds out of her ears and tried to get a grip on herself. Losing it in public was one thing, but there, in class, with the evil bastard, Victor, in her presence, well, that was another story. She had promised herself two days ago that she would never let this scum bag see her cry again. Why waste her tears on him? He wasn't worth it. Christina Aguilera was right though. The only thing she needed to do was 'walk away' from him, as hard as that might be to do. It was the only way she'd survive. Okay, well, run away from him, but honestly, running would only get her so far. It wouldn't stop him from tormenting and stalking her. God, now that she thought about it, she was right back at square one, since before they had even gotten together.

Glancing back down at the kleenex in her hand, she noticed there was hardly any blood on it, giving her the indication that she'd stopped bleeding. Using a clean side of the tissue, she wiped the tears from her eyes and cheeks, sniffled and then shoved the soiled tissue into her jeans. After taking a couple minutes to compose herself, she came to the realization that that unsettling feeling she'd been getting earlier had vanished. Her brows stitched together in bafflement as she slowly lifted her chin to sneak a peek at Victor. Just as she suspected, he was no longer staring at her, but to her astonishment, his gaze was averted downward, to his own lap, and he appeared to have a deep and somewhat regretful scowl upon his face. Almost as if he actually felt sorry for himself, but that wasn't possible, was it? An arrogant bastard like Victor never felt sorry for himself. Ever. He didn't even have a heart. Well, maybe at one time he did, but now, now he was just the devil incarnate. Just an evil man with no mercy for anyone, much less her.

He looked up suddenly and they locked eyes with one another. It hard to tell from this distance whether or not there was any real maliciousness behind that green gaze, but from what she could see, they were vacant, devoid of any emotion. His features were somber, but remorseful. That deep scowl remained on his face. Was he actually feeling something besides his own greed, anger and vengance? Was he even capable of it? She remembered seeing an ounce of emotion from him back when he had her tied up in his basement, and then later on in his bedroom when he helped her slip into bed. Refusing to believe what she saw before her, she sighed woefully, shook her head and averted her gaze back down to her lap, wincing as she felt her heart constrict in her chest. A fresh set of tears welled up in her eyes, but she bit down on her bottom lip, refusing to let them fall. She couldn't cry anymore. She wouldn't allow herself to.

Crossing her arms firmly over her chest, she sank a little further down in her seat. What had she done to deserve this? To deserve being stalked and tortured by this evil asshole? Her abusive father had already put her through enough hell growing up, but she never thought that she would have to re-live it with Victor. She wished more than anything that she could close her eyes and wake up from this nightmare. Would it ever end? And if it did, would she be alive at the end of it?

She noticed some movement out of the corner of her eye, gasping softly when she turned her head to see, who else, but Victor standing there at the end of the row, just five vacant seats away from her, and that same regretful scowl still present on his face. "What do you want?" She asked softly. "If you think for one minute that I'm going to play another round of psycho killer with you, well, I'm not. Just stay the hell away from me."

He sighed wearily, folding his arms over his belly and pressing the tips of his fingers against one another. "I didn't come over here for that, my sweet." With a clear of his throat, he squared his shoulders and stepped into the row, nearing closer to her. She tensed up, grabbed her iPod and started to stand up, intent on moving down the aisle or to another seat, just to get the hell away from him, but his voice had her stopping short. "Sit back down," he commanded impatiently.

Her eyes narrowed considerably. "Why? So you can hurt me again? No fucking way."

He took a deep breath, giving her the impression that he was trying hard to keep his cool, and without even bothering to ask for her permission, dropped down into the seat to the right of the one she had been sitting in, gazing up at her with a fierce determination in his eyes. She shuddered to think what he was up to now. "I'm not going to hurt you, baby. Just sit the hell down."

"Don't call me 'baby.'" She didn't know why she should bother following through with his request, but she did, slowly easing herself back into the seat, her heart drumming madly inside her chest at the feeling of being so close to him again. "Okay, fine, I'm sitting down. What the hell do you want now?"

Placing his elbows on the arm rests of the chair, he folded his hands in front of him and turned his head to look over at her. "I'm..." He exhaled sharply. "Sorry."

She blinked back her astonishment. For a minute, she thought she had imagined it. Had he actually uttered the words "I'm sorry" to her? No, he was an evil bastard and was incapable of such a thing. "Excuse me?"

Victor sighed irritably with a roll of his eyes. She saw the muscles tense in his jaw as he clenched his teeth together, vexation gleaming in his eyes. "I said...I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" She scoffed, shaking her head. "Sorry for what? For trying to strangle me? Threatening me? Trying to kill me? Showing up here pretending to be a substitute teacher just to fuck around with me? You're not sorry. You enjoy doing this and I know you do. You practically get off putting me through this shit, and you know what? I'm sick of it. I'm sick of you!"

He stole a glance around at the rest of the classroom, her voice having traveled beyond her row and had caused a few students to turn their heads and look over at them curiously. Taking another deep breath, he fixed his gaze back on her face, a look of discouragement on his face. "You have every right to believe that, my sweet, but--"

"I'm not 'your sweet.' I'll never again be 'your sweet.'" The tears that had been threatening to fall before suddenly began streaming down her cheeks, despite how hard she had fought to stop them. "If I was really a sweet person to you, you wouldn't keep hurting me like this. Why do you do this to me, Victor? Why? What have I ever done to you?" Her voice broke with her last words and she bit down on her bottom lip, fighting more tears.

Swallowing hard, the scowl on his face deepened, an anguished expression suddenly crossing his face as he stared back at her. He looked as if he were battling his own emotions, but was it even possible that he had any kind of real emotion, much less an actual heart? He shook his head. "Nothing. You haven't done a damn thing." He reached out to take a hold of her hand, but she quickly pulled it away. Sighing woefully, he turned himself to face her, his gaze filled with sadness and longing, unlike anything she'd seen before. "I miss being with you, baby," he spoke softly. "I miss having you around. I can't imagine my life without you in it."

"You miss fucking me. That's all. You don't need me in your life, you can have any other woman in L.A. Why do you want me?"

"I've wanted you since the first time I saw you. That day you walked into my office and interviewed for the job as my secretary, I knew there was something special about you. On the outside, you were this sweet and innocent little thing, but the real surprise came when you opened your mouth."

"I didn't suck your dick," she remarked gruffly.

"Maybe not, but you sure as hell didn't take any bullshit from anyone. You had a strong head on your shoulders. You did things your own way, did them as you pleased, no matter what anyone, not even I thought. As pissed as it made me at the time, and it still makes me on ocassion, I've always admired and liked that about you. The more you pushed me away, the more determined I was to have you, which is why I decided to pursue you."

"You mean rape me." She interjected, cringing at the memory of that night.

He exhaled sharply. "Rape, maybe, but as they say, desperate times call for desperate measures. I had no choice but to force myself on you the way I did."

"You didn't have a choice? How can you even say that? You had plenty of choices!"

"Can I finish what I'm saying Goddamn it?" He demanded.

She sighed wearily, shrugging her shoulders. "Fine, finish."

"I was more than willing to take you out to a nice dinner at a five star restaurant and give you a little room to breathe, but after the numerous times you turned me down, I had to resort to doing things the hard way, which is why I tried to rape you. I couldn't stand being without you, just like I can't stand the thought of being without you now. I know damn well I can have any other woman in the greater Los Angeles area, but I want you. I can't help but love the rush and the thrill I get in chasing you," he paused for about three long seconds before continuing in a softer tone of voice, "the way I feel in my heart when you're around. I'm addicted to you, baby. Whenever we're together, you make me..." He swallowed once more, his eyes shining with what appeared to be tears, "you make me want to be a better man."

A few more tears trickled down her cheeks, his last words striking a chord with her. "Do you really mean that?" An ounce of hope filled her eyes. Or was he just trying to manipulate her into thinking he did? He could be one hell of an actor when he wanted to be. Hadn't he been putting on act for her in the first few weeks they had been together? A part of her wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that those tears in his eyes were genuine, and maybe they were, but there was a bigger part of her that wanted to push his feelings--real or not--away.

Reaching out for her hand once more, she finally let him take hold of it. He gently nodded his head in regard, giving her hand a squeeze. "Haven't you learned by now that I mean each and every damn word I say? Yes, Goddamn it, yes." He sighed in frustration, looking down at their linked hands and letting the pad of his thumb rub against the top of her hand.

Oh yeah, she definitely had figured that one out by now, but sometimes knowing that he would follow through with his promises and being burdened with the pain of his brutal honesty, wasn't always a good thing. She glanced down at their hands before bringing her gaze back up to his face, gazing into his eyes, searching for some sort of dishonesty or unspoken maliciousness behind them, but all she saw were tears. Tears he was fighting hard to keep himself from emoting.

Bringing his free hand up to her face, he wiped away a couple tears off her cheeks with the pad of his thumb. "Give me another chance," he murmured. "Come back home with me, sweetheart. We'll open up a bottle of wine, watch the latest porn on Pay-Per-View, and then I'll take you up to bed and maybe, we can make a little porn of our own." The corners of his mouth turned up into a mischievous smirk.

Her brows furrowed inquisitively. Go home with him? Share a bottle of wine? Watch a porn? Have sex? All of it sounded like a poor excuse for a date, much less a way to try and reconcile things with your ex. Going out to dinner would have been better for her, but since the restaurants would probably all be closed by the time they got out of there, she sensed he was trying to improvise. The only part of it that tempted to her into actually considering it for a split second was the sex, but after the wine, the porn, and the sex, what then? Would the pain of being with him ever end? Would he try and kill her again? Maybe drug her, tie her up, take her back down to his basement and then pick up from where he left off? Suddenly, before she could prevent it from happening, the words left her mouth. "I can't trust you."

Letting go of her hand, he sat back and sighed deeply. His brows drew together incriminatingly. "I think you've made that little known fact quite clear by now, don't you? You don't trust me, fine, but really, who the hell can you trust these days? Huh?"

"I've never trusted you," she replied. "Never. How can I trust you when all you've ever done is turn on me without warning?"

"If I showed you you could trust me, then would you give us--give me another chance?" He held her gaze, staring blankly at her and waiting for her reply.

"How?"

"I have my ways. I'm not exactly clear on how at the moment, but as you know, I'm a clever man, I'll think of something."

She shook her head. "I don't know."

He exhaled sharply, "Look, I'm not demanding a damn thing from you, all I'm asking for is another chance, another chance at us, at building a relationship that we can both gain something from. Deny it all you want, but I know that somewhere deep down inside, you still want me, just as much as I want you. I know that in some way shape or form there's times when you're intrigued by me, and I'm not referring to just my body, I'm also referring to my mind."

"Oh yeah, I'm always intrigued by your frequently homicidal mind," she said, her voice thick with sarcasm.

"You like the way I think." He corrected her. "It keeps you on your toes. It makes you feel alive, I know it does. I can see in your eyes, in you body langauge and as they say, actions speak much louder than words. There's no use in trying to move on with your life and put me behind you, because no matter how hard you try, you'll always be in love with the better parts of me."

Her heart ached at those words and she quickly averted her gaze to her lap, if only to prevent him from seeing the slightest bit of yearning in her gaze.

"The parts you're wishing you could see right now. We're meant for each other, baby."

She blinked a couple times, felt her heart skip a beat, and for the first time in a long time, she was speechless. Never, in her wildest dreams would she have imagined that, Victor Bane, of all people could make her feel that way. Well, without a weapon in his hand or against her body. She always had some smart ass remark just waiting to come out, but due to her intense fear, she held back in saying it. Now...she had nothing. She chewed on her bottom lip anxiously, contemplating her options. While part of what he said was true, she still wasn't so sure about all this. Slowly bringing her gaze back up to his face, she still searched his eyes for any sign that he might be trying to trick her, manipulate her as he was so good at doing, but all she saw was longing, desire, lust. "I don't..." She shook her head, "really know what to say right now."

"Say 'yes.'" He sat forward, leaning in a little closer to her and gazing deeply into her eyes. "Come home with me, sweetheart, and I'll show you you can trust me, once and for all. If I can promise you anything, it's that."

She glanced down at his luscious lips, wanting desperately to kiss them, but suddenly, a huge feeling of dread loomed over her head. Staring back into his eyes, she scowled, an ounce of fear gripping her heart. Pushing down the huge lump that had formed in her throat, she mustered up the words lodged in the back of her throat, "I can't, I won't. This--us--you..." She shook her head, the tears starting to stream down her cheeks once again. "It'll never change. You'll never change. You're just going to go on being the same sadistic man you've always been. You'll never change for me. You told me so yourself."

"I changed my mind."

"Okay, so maybe you did, but it doesn't change anything between us. I might have been in love with the better parts of you, at one time, but not now. After all you've done to me, I could never love you. Never. I can't take anymore pain from you, and I won't let you hurt me anymore. I'm done. It's over between us. Do you get that, Victor? It's over."

Suddenly, the longing, desire, and lust vanished from his eyes and that all too familiar and unsettling malicious gleam was back. As much as she tried to remain calm, nothing could stop the suddenly frantic beating of her heart. She watched him cautiously, her brows furrowing inquisitively as she felt another lump quickly forming in her throat. He took in a deep breath, which, if she had to guess, was just an attempt to calm his temper before he lost control, and God forbid, hurt her in front of everyone and blow his cover.

"It'll never be over." He sneered. "In fact, my sweet, this is just the beginning." Before she had a chance to question the meaning behind his last words, he pushed himself up to his feet, squared his shoulders and turned on his heels, stepping out of the row and marched towards the front of the class. "All right everyone! It's showtime!"

Beginning? Beginning of what? She shuddered involuntarily. God, she didn't want to think about that, but she had somewhat of an idea about what beginning he was referring to. Exhaling sharply, she sat back, wiping the stray tears from her eyes, her stomach and her heart clenching in pain when she recalled how tenderly he had seemed to wipe those tears away moments ago. She really and truly did miss the better sides of him. The "good" side, but apparently, the "evil" part of him had won...again. A part of her had desperately wanted to give him a second chance, even believed that he had turned into the man he once was, but it was hopeless. He was too much of a manipulator to just turn good again. Turning him down might have seemed like the most logical choice a minute ago, but as of that moment...she wasn't so sure it was the right one.