"What is it that you wish to be able to feel fully?"
He asks, brows creasing; a mischievous smile on his chapped lips.
Combing back a few strand of hair away from my face, I try to look at him – really look at him, daring to make eye-contact.
Makes me feel dizzy every time. Black and cloudy butterflies distort my vision, my tear ducts threatening to open up; I'm so nervous – he always has the ability to make me weak at the knees, quiver in my heart strands.
Meeting his intense gaze, I answer his question, as truthfully as I can.
"I wish to feel alive. To be able to take a breath and see life differently, to completely accept and embrace what it is and means to be really, and truly alive."
He didn't't except this, I can tell by his slightly shaky laugh. It's a lovely laugh – it heats up my insides.
"So basically... You need to metaphorically die only to then be resurrected?"
"Yeah. I guess... Yes, you can put it that way. Die, then be reborn. Experience life's most darkest sides, then rejoice in your struggle, be grateful that you've survived this... inhuman and rough ordeal. Oh, I don't know. Why are you asking me this, really?"
"Oh..." He glares at me. "It's a wish I've had myself. Not to die and be reborn, but to... make that happen in and to someone else that really needs... a, yeah, a wake-up-call."
"Ah, you're saying that you have a need to be someone's... saviour?"
"Yes. Would you leave your soul to me, let me play with it until I'm satisfied and then... no, first break you then finally rebuild you, from bloody scraps of meaningless flesh to permanently mould you into someone... someone who's been at the brink of death but survived. In all the misery and torment, you've grown more powerful and all-knowing than any other human being in this corrupted world of ours."
I get a bit hesitant at this request, I must admit.
What I gather from his words (covered in darkness) is that he somehow hopes to kill some part of me, only to gather up and fixate the broken shards. Kill me, then resurrect me.
Oh, what the hell, what have I to loose but my life (which obviously isn't that grand – since I'm sitting here talking to a humanized version of Satan himself).
"I... I can't say that I've, no... that I've ever made a conscious choice to give myself... my soul, to another. I'm a bit of a control-freak actually, so giving that away doesn't come easily for me."
"I never said, or mentioned, that it was going to be easy. Say no, and I will walk away from all of this, and you'll probably never see me again, until the day of your actual, body-based death... But if you say yes, if you accept my offer..."
He smiles, licks his lips, bites at them slightly before continuing.
"If you accept my, highly generous proposal, you will never again live a life full of regrets. I will grant you the ability and skill to be dead, but alive at the same time. You will see life and its inhabitants in a completely different way and you will finally, and fully, learn the true meaning of gratitude."
And of course, I accept. I'm far too curious not to. Since now, my life has been one frustrating search of complete, inner peace; that day that I can hold my head up high and relish all that life has got to offer, that one day that I'll find the tools to meet life's darker sides, not run from them.
He burst out into a lingering, deep and hypnotizing cackle; his ribcage heaves strongly with the intensity of it all.
Then everything goes black. Silent and ominous. In the shadows I can catch a glimpse of two light-reflecting pupils, feral and... haunting; focused on the pray infront of him.
Something shatters in the corner of my eye, a dull warmth spreads and the tip of my tongue becomes numb.
I see golden stars and I have the taste of metal all throughout every nook and cranny of the insides of my mouth.
I try to catch my breath, but my upper body feels locked, something heavy pushes the muscles down.
Then, another drizzle of warmth; the taste of metal even stronger.
That warm cloud migrates through my veins and it barricades itself firmly in the pit of my stomach – a delightful tingle followed by an explosion of pain-like emotion, then... then I experience something so strong, a feeling so intense that it provokes a manic-like laugh, somewhere, someone is screaming and the silvery blade of a knife flickers.
Again that lovely warmth reaches out its talons towards, inside and beyond my physical body.
A sucking kind of noise reaches my ears and I can only gasp and thrash weakly at the source of it until... until he bites down, draining me dry, holds me down and smiles around and at the huge gash in my neck.
As he feeds of me, I go through a wide range of emotions. The first one is fear, it softens and turns into some kind of... calm.
Yes, I feel at peace and I accept whatever may come. A strange, different sort of euphoria flows inside me;
leaving me wanting more – yet I'm too afraid to ask for it.
He tugs at my hair and moves his face closer to mine – following the suction sound of vacuum being released and a heavier, now unhindered stream of thick, ruby-red blood – and then... then he kisses me.
I can taste myself on him and I taste good – better than I've ever tasted before.
He breathes into me, moans and sighs as he deepens the kiss – holding up the knife and plunges it into my throat.
But I feel no fear or pain. It's too warm and comforting for that.
Then the wound starts to sting as he twists the blade around, growling like a lion as he does so.
He pulls the silver tongue out and a rough gushing begins. All the while I'm smiling and he looks at me with glimmering eyes and pointed canines.
"Am I dead?" I ask.
"No, my love. You're more alive than ever before."
_
I sit up in bed, my breathing is painfully heavy. My fingers reach up to feel my patched up neck.
And I realize that the dream I recollected was as real as myself... and that he was right.
He was right when he said that I'll never see the world in the same way again.
I'm alive in my misery, but reborn... in grateful happiness.