Anna lay on the floor, heart pounding, blood dripping down her cheek. Above her stood Dracula, knife poised down, ready to strike at any time. They had been sitting like this for at least five minutes already, and nothing had happened. Anna was getting impatient. Yet she knew any small movement and he would strike-her chance of seeing Carl and Van Helsing again diminished.
Finally, Dracula sighed.
"This is getting ridiculous, Anna. We must find some way to remedy this situation." Anna glared up at him.
"If you would only move--"
"Then you could strike."
"It's not like I could kill you."
"Would you want to?"
The question came out so easily, it startled her. Yet it seemed he was searching for an answer. So she thought, long and hard. He seemed to be interested in the ways her face converted from one emotion to the next, yet again going back and thinking about the horrors all those innocent people had been through. She finally came back to their surroundings and, looking him straight in the eye, said the last word he'd ever thought she'd say.
"No." His eyes narrowed suspiciously, but she continued. "The things you have done are things you have needed to do to survive. Not all the things you have done have been for this purpose, though. Yet you feel it needed to be done. You have only done what you think is right."
"You do not believe that."
"Not really, no."