The woman with the long, curly hair wanders into the bar, excitedly, mindlessly. She expects a night of fun, and hopes to catch someone’s attention. And she will. Soon. But when she does, she’ll wish that she hadn’t.

            The man with the twisted, wolfish grin spots her. He wants her, wants to know all of her. And he will. Soon. But when he does, she’ll wish that he didn’t.

            She takes a seat at the bar, orders a drink, and he comes up, offering to pay for it. He can afford it, so she lets him. He can afford all sorts of things, and he knows that she’ll pay for it a thousand times over when he gets her to his house.

            “I’m Eric,” he tells her.

            “Dia,” she says in reply, and it’s a mistake.

            They talk amongst themselves about nothing of importance until the bar closes. When it does, he asks her to go home with him, she agrees, and it’s a mistake, but she’s excited to be going—after all, she has nothing to lose.

            He’s excited too, and knows exactly what he’ll do.