I have been putting off this meeting. The fact that I have to turn to him, now, is evidence that I have almost failed. Even after trying so hard to change for You, I am not ready. And I'm running out of people to ask for help.

He is studying, back straight, pencil in a loose grip. I'll bet that his handwriting is elegant. Everything else about him is so controlled, so careful, that it reminds me of a mirror. If I try to touch him, will he break? I don't want to be responsible for that. I've seen the things that come after.

"Well," he says after a few seconds, closing the composition notebook and turning in his chair, "I hear the you have a few questions? If it's homework, I'm glad to help."

"It's not, I'm sorry," I apologize meekly, looking at the knot of his tie. He's still in his school uniform, even though it's late at night. "I have to asked about Him."

His soft almost-smile turns into a thin grimace. "I also heard about that. I can handle it."

I nod, encouraged by his reaction. At least he wasn't angry. "The way you hold your emotions in-"

"I'm working to correct it," he preempts me.

"No…isn't that what he likes about you?" I try desperately. "I need to be enough for Him! I need to be what He wants!"

His eyes go wide, and he grabs my wrist suddenly. "No," he says, almost calmly, but then hisses, "no, you don't. You haven't the faintest idea of what he's capable of doing to the ones he loves."

"You're hurting me," I whisper, trying not to cry. It's an automatic reaction for me, to cry whenever someone raises their voice. When he lets go, I say, "I love Him."

"We all do," he sighs, running his hand through his hair. "Somewhere, we all love him. We can't help it."

"So, why isn't everyone trying to do what I am? Why doesn't everyone try to be better in His eyes? Everyone has been trying to make me stop!" It doesn't make sense. Why am I always the odd one out?

He pushes his chair away from the desk and stands up, rummaging around in his book bag. "I want to show you something. Look at this picture."

He holds out a snapshot, and I recognize him in his summer school uniform. Next to him is a dark-haired boy, who is grinning and enlisting the help of a younger boy to hold a giggling girl sideways. He is trying to stop them, but not succeeding. Last is a pretty girl, trying to hide behind her hair. It looks like so much fun…

"Are these your friends?"

"Yes, they are," he smiles after some hesitation. "I used to do whatever he told me to, but then I chose to go to my high school, and came to live here. Even then, I would only go to school, and from school back home, with barely a word to anyone. I never wanted to get close to someone. Then, she came to live here, and I had to talk to her, at least. My circle of people I trusted had grown. Later it expanded to include her friends, and now, I'm even adding my own." His eyes are closed, and he reminds me of a prince, just like his brother. Well, close.

He looks down at me, almost pitying. "Do you have any idea what it feels like to have something that he doesn't control?"

I admit, "No…I don't have any friends outside the family."

"Maybe you should try to experience the world before you willingly tie yourself up in his strings. You don't understand why we're trying to get away, you don't know both sides of the argument."

"I know what I want." I sit down, against a wall, and draw my knees up to my chin. "I want to help Him."

"Help him? How, by doing what he wants?"

"Something like that." For the first time, I say it aloud: "I want to be his special someone."

There is a soft gasp, and it isn't from me. "Do you mean love? Romantically?"

"Yes…"

"And you see the difference between what I feel for you and what you want him to feel for you?"

"I do."

"Then I can't help you. I don't think you should."

I nod, and stand up. "I have to go. My chances are running out."

At the door, he calls me back. "My cousin, I hope that you find happiness. Even if it has to come from him." His eyes are closed. I can't see his soul anymore.

I blink, slowly, and smile. "You're the first one to encourage me, even a little bit. Thank you."

"Good luck."

As I walk down the hallway, I reflect on what I've heard.

Someday, I want to be able to control my emotions enough to lie about something that serious. It may be useful.


Is it just me, or is she changing as this goes on? Tell me if it's good or bad, because it will effect how I end this...