My world is darkness. The only Light that it held has been extinguished, and it can never be rekindled. The only Hope I knew is gone, and it can never be recaptured. It has fled this life, has flown behind the Veil. I am left in utter night, no star to shine a light on my path.
How can I survive this? My breath catches in my throat; my heart beats slow. It feels as though I am drowning on dry ground. No air reaches my lungs. The suffocation is overwhelming. My head pounds, the pain from the lack of oxygen like a giant axe that has buried itself in my skull and will not be dislodged. My legs will not support my weight. I cannot move. My arms are leaden. I have no will to carry on, no desire to draw breath, no compulsion to exist. Yet I live. Why? Why do I survive, yet the only truly good thing in this life must go? I am still drawing my breath from the scarcity of air on this world when someone so much more pure than I could ever hope to be will never fill his lungs with it again. I should be the one dwelling in the torment of the Other Realm. He should not writhe in the pain of Hell while I survive here to enjoy a soft bed and warm blankets. In what twisted world of reality do we live, where the pure are made to suffer, yet the villain and the vile enjoy the best comforts the world has to offer?
The torment within me is worse than the physical pain. The Wolf is overjoyed at its renewed domination of my soul. I have shut myself in my house because He has His way with me when He wants. The Moon is not for another three weeks, yet the strength of the Beast is in full force. I cannot stop Its violent rape and abuse of my body. He knows no kindness or sympathy. I now belong to Him completely and there is no escape for me. He has always dominated me in some ways, not allowing me to admit my need for Sirius. But Sirius was always there to comfort me, to soothe the pains and to dress the wounds. Now I suffer alone, with no one to share in my pain, no one to caress the scars, no one to whisper words of comfort like a healing balm to my soul.
I descend into darkness. No glimmer of light, no comforting ray, can be found in my world. For me, no hope, no comfort, no love. All is lost. And yet, can it be? Is there still an ember glowing in the cold coals? I dare not hope. It will be a long time yet before I can believe that this is truth. Though it is only a year, that year will be an eternity. So, for this season, I only hope to keep that ember warm. I bury it within the other coals, so that the Wolf, the Master of my life, will not know it is there. He cannot be allowed to steal it from me. He must never know.
Who is this ember? Only an Angel, yet one that I cannot pursue for the fear of losing it completely. Yet even this is torture! His life is completely set apart. He has a purpose and a destiny, and it does not seem that I am to be part of this destiny. So why am I tortured? Why do I pine?
I do not deserve the Angel any more than I did the one who is no more. He is still only a child, yet he has seen things that I can only imagine in my worst nightmares. His smile, once warm and joyous, has hardened in grief and suffering. The light of innocence that should shine from his eyes has dimmed to almost nothing. He, too, has suffered from the loss of Sirius. The Angel blames himself. He does not admit it, but I can see it in his eyes. Those eyes, once warm with childlike innocence, are now hardened and cynical.
Why can I not name him? My cowardice shames me. Is it the pull of the Wolf? Could it be the nature of the curse? Has my life come to the point that I cannot even mention a name because the Wolf so dominates me?
I pray daily for death, for release from this life. I barely have the strength to stand up under this burden. One day, it may fail me. I feel as though I am being slowly crushed beneath a boulder. The heavy weight upon my chest makes it harder for me to breathe each day. I am blinded by the pain and cannot see any way out. I cannot breathe to cry out for help. Even if I could, I am muzzled by the Wolf. Is there no end to my misery? Is there no end to this lament?
How can I survive this? My breath catches in my throat; my heart beats slow. It feels as though I am drowning on dry ground. No air reaches my lungs. The suffocation is overwhelming. My head pounds, the pain from the lack of oxygen like a giant axe that has buried itself in my skull and will not be dislodged. My legs will not support my weight. I cannot move. My arms are leaden. I have no will to carry on, no desire to draw breath, no compulsion to exist. Yet I live. Why? Why do I survive, yet the only truly good thing in this life must go? I am still drawing my breath from the scarcity of air on this world when someone so much more pure than I could ever hope to be will never fill his lungs with it again. I should be the one dwelling in the torment of the Other Realm. He should not writhe in the pain of Hell while I survive here to enjoy a soft bed and warm blankets. In what twisted world of reality do we live, where the pure are made to suffer, yet the villain and the vile enjoy the best comforts the world has to offer?
The torment within me is worse than the physical pain. The Wolf is overjoyed at its renewed domination of my soul. I have shut myself in my house because He has His way with me when He wants. The Moon is not for another three weeks, yet the strength of the Beast is in full force. I cannot stop Its violent rape and abuse of my body. He knows no kindness or sympathy. I now belong to Him completely and there is no escape for me. He has always dominated me in some ways, not allowing me to admit my need for Sirius. But Sirius was always there to comfort me, to soothe the pains and to dress the wounds. Now I suffer alone, with no one to share in my pain, no one to caress the scars, no one to whisper words of comfort like a healing balm to my soul.
I descend into darkness. No glimmer of light, no comforting ray, can be found in my world. For me, no hope, no comfort, no love. All is lost. And yet, can it be? Is there still an ember glowing in the cold coals? I dare not hope. It will be a long time yet before I can believe that this is truth. Though it is only a year, that year will be an eternity. So, for this season, I only hope to keep that ember warm. I bury it within the other coals, so that the Wolf, the Master of my life, will not know it is there. He cannot be allowed to steal it from me. He must never know.
Who is this ember? Only an Angel, yet one that I cannot pursue for the fear of losing it completely. Yet even this is torture! His life is completely set apart. He has a purpose and a destiny, and it does not seem that I am to be part of this destiny. So why am I tortured? Why do I pine?
I do not deserve the Angel any more than I did the one who is no more. He is still only a child, yet he has seen things that I can only imagine in my worst nightmares. His smile, once warm and joyous, has hardened in grief and suffering. The light of innocence that should shine from his eyes has dimmed to almost nothing. He, too, has suffered from the loss of Sirius. The Angel blames himself. He does not admit it, but I can see it in his eyes. Those eyes, once warm with childlike innocence, are now hardened and cynical.
Why can I not name him? My cowardice shames me. Is it the pull of the Wolf? Could it be the nature of the curse? Has my life come to the point that I cannot even mention a name because the Wolf so dominates me?
I pray daily for death, for release from this life. I barely have the strength to stand up under this burden. One day, it may fail me. I feel as though I am being slowly crushed beneath a boulder. The heavy weight upon my chest makes it harder for me to breathe each day. I am blinded by the pain and cannot see any way out. I cannot breathe to cry out for help. Even if I could, I am muzzled by the Wolf. Is there no end to my misery? Is there no end to this lament?