Tragic Cruelty

"Go away!"  She screamed, "Go away!"  Her legs were getting sluggish and tired now, and her feet ached to just stop.  But she couldn't stop, he was still running with a skip in his gleeful stride.  How could he not tire after running for so long?  It didn't matter now, she just had to keep running.
She gasped for air, even her heart wished to stop.  If only she could brush this white abyss aside and run now into a world of color, then she could leave behind this frightening man.
"Stop!"  She suddenly wailed.  She wasn't sure why she said that or to whom, but she barely noticed through her throbbing legs and bleeding feet that she was no longer running.  "What do you want from me?"  she managed to say in a gasping breath.  What could she do now?  Where was he?  She looked around desperately, but all she could see was white.  Had she actually out run him?
No.
He appeared almost out of nowhere.  But now he stood right over her.  His eyes flashing with green glint.  A green glint that wanted torture, a broken face.  His lips were as black as Death.  Haunting marks stood on his face.  Perhaps to hide scars?
But his eyes, yes his eyes, were most frightening of all.  She could see no pupil.  It was just black.  And the whites of his eyes, were more white that the white world he was chasing her in. 
Panic flooded her.  She turned to run.  Run for another uncountable time.  Run till her legs would finally give in. Run with all her desperate might.  But a cold hand clasped on her wrist.  This clasp, she noticed, was not in a desire to hold her firm to stick the blade through her heart.  It was beckoning.  Please stay it seemed to have said, if a hand could speak.
She turned to see the hand that beckoned.  The hand on her wrist strangely enough was connected to him.  There was no other entity there to protect her if she stayed.  It was just the two of them, standing in the middle of nothingness.
His eyes changed.  He looked sad, broken, lonely.  How could she help but pity those broken eyes.  It seemed the pain her feet had gone away.  Everything was numb, except for her heart.  It felt wild, on fire like a stallion set free.
Nose to nose they were now.  The silence it seemed had become music to their ears.  "Don't be shy little mouse,"  he whispered in her ear.  She had never heard his voice before.  It was clear, perfect and it sang love.
And then in the silence, they kissed.
[ But remember readers, he wants to see a broken face.  Love is a facade.]
She was so drawn into his pity and love, that she had not noticed his other hand behind his back.  It too clasped something.  And this hand did not beckon.  Had he clasped to her wrist with this hand, it would hold her fast to her torture.  Again, it clasped a small blade.  Reserved for one blood.
The sting of the blade flashed quick and horribly.  What had he done!  They no longer kissed.  Tears of confusion and pain flooded her eyes. "Why?"  she gasped.
His eyes flashed again with the green glint.  Oh, it was glorious to see her broken face.  It was just what he had wanted.  It was all  that he wanted.
A single tear ran down his cheek and touched his cruel grin.  "Why not," was the last thing she heard him whisper.
He rolled his eyes.  And then, with a gentle thud, he fell to the white surface.  Blood stained his monochromatic blouse.  His wicked hand still clasped to the knife in his stomach.  She stood alone now.  It was no longer them.  it was her.  In the white nothingness, she fell to her knees and wept.

(I just love twisted endings)

Medium: ink
in case you were wondering