On the Verge of Living
Prologue
She was young, in an aged sort of way.
Too young to face a life of such utter darkness, such lamenting pain; too old to not know how to cope and struggle through just such a life.
He thought she did not seem to mind it all so very much. But then, she was as much a master of disguise as he was.
They were two of a kind, not at all alike.
She could blend with shadows, lie without betraying truth. She could live behind a cold, indifferent façade without forsaking emotion. She could endure pain, and when circumstance dictated, could cause such pain without remorse.
But then, so could he.
Only, she was more content with life then he ever could be. She could find happiness lurking behind desperation and anguish. She could love, freely, holding nothing back. She could give until she had nothing left to keep.
Having lived in the face of death almost since the day she was born, still she could find peace. She could feel secure and safe.
He marveled at her strength, all the while cursing his weakness.
Yes, they were two of a kind, yet nothing at all alike.