They have decided I was ready to be released. I don't know if it is out of humanity's morbid curiosity or just plain friendship, but they all seem to have felt sad to see me go. No feelings of pity—or are there? I cannot tell, I have become far too cynical in this new life of mine.
Every now and then that part of my back and sometimes my shoulder still hurt terribly. But it is never for very long. So I believe I can live with it.
I arrive home in silence. Where is everybody? I tell my driver to bring my belongings inside. As I unlock and open the door, the smell of dust assaults my non-existent nose. Has no one cleaned lately?
"Hello?" I ask into the silence. It is funny that I should smell dust, as I do not see any sitting on anything. I also do not see any sitting on anything. I also do not smell the distinct smell the distinct scent of mildew, mold, or mustiness. What could be going on?
I move further inside, into the grand library, when the lights blaze on, blinding my cat's eyes that had adjusted to the darkness. I throw my arm up over my eyes in an effort to block the pain.
"Surprise! Welcome back!" Cries of this nature ring out from all around the spacious room. Who invited them? I certainly didn't. Who let them in? I cringe inside at this blatant exposure and publicity.
"Who—who are you?" I manage to stammer. Damn! All that protective self-confidence and power I place in my voice—gone! In one instant of surprise, all my defenses and strength crumbles like a pile of bricks or rotten stonework!
A figure emerges from the crowd—it is that young man who was so enamored with me! Christoph! Did he set this up? Did he know I was coming home today? What does he have planned? My humiliation in front of all these strangers? More cruelty? Exposure of my horrid visage, my inescapable curse?
He walks up to me and gives me a hug. I stiffen out of fear and anxiety—no one has ever tried to touch me like that out if their own volition… So basically, yes, I am very inexperienced in human interaction, society, and love. But can you really blame me?
He lets go of me and takes an object from his pocket. What is it? It appears to be a jewelry box of some sort. He gets down on one knee. Mon dieu, is he really going to do what I am thinking he is? Does he truly want to spend the rest of his life with me, a monster? He opens the box. Inside is a tiny, plain gold band with an almost imperceptible design in small rubies and violet red sapphires inset in the shapes of leaves entwining the golden band.
"Mademoiselle Aria Guirre," he declares. "Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife, sîl vous plais?"
"Oui, monsieur."