One hand.
One hand, reaching out into the dark, and I was saved. Or damned.
It depends on who you ask, really.
But I was alone for so long that the lone hand was a crowd in my solitude, and I grasped desperately for anything…anyone to make me less lost.
I found him.
He brought me out of my darkness and into shadow of a very different kind, and I think I loved him for it.
As much as one such as me can love.
I clung to him with a desperation not entirely born of fear, and he became my world. All I was and all I could be became tangled up in him.
And I did not care.
My soul belonged to him, in its entirety, and I would not have it otherwise.
And then, there was the day I looked into his eyes and realized that he was wrong. That we were wrong.
That I had been wrong.
You cannot imagine what it is like, to find that you have built the foundation of your soul on quicksand, and I hope you never have to know.
It was…beautiful. And terrifying. And I swear I could hear my heart break.
Have you ever known, with absolute certainty, that you were damned?
Pray you never do.
Have you ever known that you would spend the rest of this travesty of a life that has somehow come to belong to you, destroying the one warm beautiful thing in your world?
Have you ever seen your true love's eyes, and known that when next you saw them, one of you would be dead?
With luck, it will be you.
If the gods are merciful, it will be me.