Saturday, September 14th

Tonight, as I laid beside Bella, watching her sleep in borrowed peace, my mind turned to a decision. This is not new, not whimsical. I knew this day would come.

I've read my journals to find that I have been a monster in sheep's clothing for far too long. While I have always known that as a devil I am a master of deceit, it was only upon rereading my journals that I discovered as I lie to my love, I deceived myself. It was never for her, never to save her, never to give to her. It was always for me, the selfish demon who plumbs the depth of putrefaction and calls it love.

I have placed a burden of unbearable weight upon a sheer wing of gossamer. Bella should never know immortal thirst, anger, madness – and this is madness – these weights should never restrain a soul so vivacious and light.

Beside Bella, soft as the breeze, gentle and sweet, I prayed for healing. Yes, I prayed. I am damned and yet I pray. My cries, empty; my prayers, unfulfilled. Prayers are for creatures of God, flesh-encased souls, not stone gargoyles who fancy themselves worthy. I shall never be worthy; I shall never be heard.

The pendulum swings. The gravity of the burden that holds me here is evidenced in her need for me. I can only free her from the weight, release her from gravity to allow her to soar to the angelic heights she deserves. Angels abound, Bella belongs. Acquired momentum releases the ballast and she can escape; I must move swiftly, cleanly. I am the burden of which she must be free.

The stone must break. And soon.