Out of the Freezer and Into the Frying Pan

When I woke in the walk-in freezer of @BarWithABite, there was not even a moment in which I could question where I was or how I had come to be there. The pain reared it’s ugly head in a potent way, my broken body once more reeling from the torture the witches had successfully inflicted upon me the previous night.

I was starved… as hungry as a newborn upon first rising from the grave. The few bottles of TrueBlood I had downed before dawn had done little for my condition in the frosty prison, but I found myself thanking the gods my death a millennium ago ended the flowing of blood through my body or my wounds would have surely bled me dry. As it was, my open, raw, beaten, and burned flesh waited, adhering and freezing to the shredded clothing I wore, waiting for the sun to hide in order to haunt me with it’s ache once more.

My ancient eyes, so used to seeing more than a human mind could ever fathom were blurry, clouded with the impurity of the silver that had been sprayed so callously at them. It was as if a thick, impenetrable blanket of fog covered the world I found myself in. The darkness of my frozen surroundings was encompassing. I was capable of seeing no more than a few feet in front of me. Immediately, I reached for the case of synthetic blood beside me, downing icy bottle after bottle without objection, as if I needed the liquid shit to survive.

For once, I did.

The additional blood did nothing for me. The throbbing pain my body knew in the moment was unfathomable. I found the simple task of clearing the rubble I myself had laid in front of the door of the freezer to be an exhausting task. The very idea of breaking myself through the frozen box in order to escape it was enough to leave me feeling defeated before I had even made an attempt at it.

Everything was gone. Everything I am had been taken from me, made way with the previous night by two witches who knew no bounds. And for what? Why?

I would not surrender, not now. I had made it through the day, I would not give in to the pain now. I searched myself with all I could, wanting to feel something- anything- besides the pain and hopelessness I knew so clearly now.

And once more, there it was.

I felt her before I heard her, the sound of her footfalls barely reaching my ears through the thick insulation of the freezer in my present state. I had felt her when the sun pulled me into my icy grave of daytime death and here she was now, when the darkness of night had taken over the sky.

@BarmaidSookie.

A million thoughts ran through my mind. Had she been here all this time? I could feel her anxiety, her fear, her frustration. I could feel the echoes of the pain I felt now reflected in her and cursed myself for knowing I was the cause of it. I felt her concern, her worry, and her desperation. She knocked lightly upon the door of the freezer and I did the only thing I could think of. I echoed the knock back, allowing myself a fleeting, panged smile at how ridiculous the action was.

And then she opened the door.

It was as if I was being assaulted once more, an overwhelming wave of things struck me at once, my ancient mind finding it impossible to keep up. The smell of burned, rotting wood was heavy, the sight and smell of stagnant, standing water covered everything. Walls were burned away to expose the very structures of the building that was so familiar to me, glimpses of the outside world visible through the gaping holes everywhere. The very building creaked, making it clear just how instable the structure was at present.

The walls, the rooms, the furnishings of the back of Fangtasia were now nothing more than rubble and fragments. The ceiling hung low and heavy, as if it may collapse at any given moment. The back door was missing from it’s hinges, an empty metal frame the only thing separating the club from the world outside. I could smell the very sweat of the unfamiliar humans who must have extinguished the blaze hanging in the air. Even with my flawed eyes I could see everything was gone. Everything was black.

And then, there was Sookie.

She was the first and only thing I truly saw. She was there, truly there, and such a far cry from the blackness that surrounded her and that held me since the witches first found me in my office the night before.

Her eyes were red and inflamed, signs of tears shed already and full of tears yet unshed, tears that I knew were for me. Her hair was tousled, a sure sign she had ran her fingers through it more times than she could count throughout her frustrating day. Her clothes were the ones that had laid beside my bed when I had left her the previous night to attend to the club. The smell of smoke clung to her, making it clear she had stood there all day, a helpless victim as she watched the world burn around me. Her breathing was quick and frantic, her heart matched it’s panicked rhythm.

I stepped back and away from her, terrified for one of the first and only times in my long existence.

I wish I could explain my fear, but even now as I am left reflecting, I do not know that I can. A part of me was afraid I would drain her without a second thought. Even with the heavy tainting of smoke upon her, my Sookie smells extraordinary, and I was so unfathomably hungry. I wanted to shout to her to get back, to run and run quickly, but was just as afraid that the predator in me would enjoy the short-lived hunt. A part of me was afraid of my own appearance. I knew even in the darkness with her flawed human vision, she could see the agony that was written into my flesh like a story that never should have been told. I loathed the idea of Sookie seeing me in such a deplorable state, gaunt from my blood loss, matted blood frozen to all parts of my body, my skin charred where my clothes had burned away in the flames, my chest marred with the gaping wounds the stakes had created. I knew the image was haunting. I could see it on her face.

Yet still, more than anything, I believe I was afraid of just what she meant to me in that moment.

Here I was, bloody and broken, beaten and bruised, and only she was there. My progeny were absent. My bonds, some more solidified than the one I share with her, were not present. No vampire who owed me fealty came to the aid of their Sheriff.

It was just her, a human, who had let herself feel all my pain and share it with me. It was just her who had answered my call. It was just her who had risked everything by unleashing me from my prison. It was just her who had given me hope in my bleakest of moments. It was just her standing in the charred remnants of my world, beckoning me out, asking to care for me, asking to take me away from it all.

I was terrified of how much I needed her.

What little pride I had that wasn’t left burned on the floor of Fangtasia or drained away from me by the witches asked her for something to hide my condition with. Without second thought, my human shrugged her coat off and draped it around me, concealing me from the world around me.

And it was just what I needed.

I let her lead me from the building that was the center of everything Area Five was, the building that was nearly my final resting place, and to her car. She asked me where I wanted to go and for once, I honestly didn’t know.

I have always been decisive and definite in everything I do, but I was simply uncertain. I was uncertain of everything… of where I went wrong, of what I have done to deserve this, of what I had left, of who I had left, of where I went from here… the list was unending.

I was uncertain of what I had done to deserve her, but in that moment I knew I would not do without her. Wherever she took me, so long as she was with me, I would make do. I needed her more than I needed blood in my drained body. She was my healing.

I offered no word of protest as she drove me home, leaving me to sit in her car as she gathered some of my belongings along with the blood stocked in my refrigerator from within. I slunk low in the passenger seat, avoiding the grizzly sight of my tortured reflection in the tinted glass of her windows. I could not utter a word of protest as she took me out of Shreveport and to Bon Temps.

If it was where she was, it was where I needed to be.

She struggled to carry the cooler packed with blood and the bag of my belongings from her car to her home, but still offered me her arm bathed in goosebumps from having surrendered her coat to me in order to aid in my journey to her door.

I didn’t deserve this creature.

She sat me in her small kitchen in one of the wobbly, mismatched chairs that lines the scratched up table she keeps there. Bag after bag of blood was warmed in the microwave and offered to me, my telepath working on washing the layer of blood and filth that clung to me away from my marred skin as I drank. She cut away the stiff and burned remnants of clothes from my body to free me of the burden of struggling out of them.

I could see the question in her eyes. I could see the torment of not knowing what had caused everything she had felt and everything she now saw so clearly written into my flesh, but she waited for me to tell her the story I already longed to forget.

And as I told her, she cried tears for my pain. She grieved for my loss as if it had been her own.

As my vision became more clear with every mug of blood I drank, I saw just how deeply she had suffered for me. How much I meant to her was written in every expression she wore. She wanted nothing more than to soothe my pain now and erase every indentation upon me the witches had left, both the physical reminders and the ones locked eternally in the confines of my mind.

It nearly upset me to know she would never be able to do that when I wanted nothing more than to give her what she wanted.

When I drank as much blood as I could, she led me to her bathroom and bathed me, having to drain and refill the basin numerous times to rid it of the blood and charred flesh that flaked off of me. I don’t believe she wanted me to notice how much cleaning was necessary to rid me of my previous night’s torture, but I knew. It simply didn’t matter when her presence behind me, rinsing my body and washing my hair was more comfort than I deserved.

She asked me to tell her more of what I have been through recently, the witches aside, and asked me to feed from her by giving me her wrist. I ultimately did not want to when I knew the information would only further upset her and taking her blood would only leave her weaker, but how can I deny this woman anything when she has given me so much? When she alone was my saving grace in my moment of need?

At present, it feels as if she alone is my world. There is nothing I would not give her if asked of me.

I felt infantile asking her if she would stay with me in the confines of her light-secured bedroom once I was finally clean and she led me to her bed. If she thought such a thing of me, she didn’t let me know it, and even seemed relieved I had made such an uncustomary request. And, sure enough, when I was roused from my death at sundown the following evening, she was still in my arms, curled into me in nearly the exact position she had been when the sun had taken me at dawn.

Without commenting on how little of my flesh had improved as of yet, she led me to her kitchen once more and prepared more blood for me while making herself dinner. I felt her intense hunger then and realized my lover must not have eaten at all while I was taken from her. She had sacrificed herself completely for me. As long as I walk this earth, it will never be forgotten.

It felt so natural and right to be with her in that moment, though my own mind traveled back to a time and world in which Sookie didn’t yet exist, when I was nothing more than a mortal man. Even a thousand years later I can recall distantly yet clearly what it was like to return to my home after months spent raiding to my wife and children. My body would be sore and show signs of the battles I had seen, but there was an unspoken comfort in returning to my homeland and my home, to see and be with those I left home in order to provide for, to listen to their stories of what I had missed in my absence and to offer ones of my own.

Sookie, my human, my telepath, my lover, my dear one… feels more like home to me than anything ever has before.

It felt wrong in such a profound moment to think about the witches who had robbed me of my blood, but I did. They had taken a part of me that is sacred, something that defines who and what I am. The female had the audacity to drink it directly from the immortal vessel that is me. It was not theirs to take.

And I wanted Sookie to have it.

I have bonded in blood twice to my telepath already, but a third exchange will seal our tie completely. For as long as we walk the earth, we will feel one another, her existence a constant buzz in the back of my mind and my existence one in her own. Her feelings will be my feelings. My feelings will be her feelings. She will feel me and know me more deeply than she could imagine, and I will feel and know her more deeply as well. I will be giving her an undeniable, irreversible power over me, but could I ever trust another with such a thing more than I can trust her?

She has proven herself to me more than any other ever has. It is appropriate I have not made such a permanent bond to a human before. It should be Sookie who I experience and know such a thing with first.

When I told her as much, she agreed instantaneously and despite the lingering pain I feel, I could only smile genuinely. Still, I have insisted it should not be rushed. I do not want her agreeing to such a thing if she is only doing so because she fears losing me to a second death now, and I do not want her to think for even a moment that I may be extending her this offer without sound presence of mind when nothing could be further of the truth.

We did not have long to discuss or think on these things before the phone calls to my lover began and I found myself disheartened. My own phone was lost in the blaze of the nightclub, but can any really claim to be concerned when I am only sought with a phone call? I know Sookie is not the only one who felt my pain then. In fact, I know it is still being felt now. Is this the loyalty I am shown and worth?

I could not let myself think on those things then, and instead chose to let Sookie do the talking. It is unnatural for me to shy away from conducting my own business, especially business that my lover does not need to concern herself with, but at present, I find the idea of doing such a thing myself completely repulsive. In the brief conversation I had that night with @pamiravenscroft on Sookie’s phone, I left Fangtasia and it’s reconstruction in her hands. I do not want to so much as see the building until both it and my flesh resemble what they had been before the witches interference.

Sookie’s patience with my subordinates seemed to mimic my own and quickly we were foregoing any further work or discussion with others in lieu of time to ourselves. My body was still fragile and weak, but I took my telepath that night, desperate to reclaim a connection I believe both of us needed. It feels more right than ever.

The following night we were visited by @VampNiklas and @TaliaPerrault, both of whom had felt my pain clearly through our bonds. Innocently enough, Niklas inquired as to whether or not I had sought out @AppiusOcella for the healing his blood could supply me with, and my ever observant telepath caught and wondered on it. I had to tell her my Maker and the frequently referenced Appius Livius Ocella are one in the same. She wants to know why I am so reluctant to talk of my Maker and promises she would never put herself in danger because of what I might say, but I do not know how she would take the happenings either. She has insisted she wishes to know and once more, I find myself incapable of denying her what she desires, but I simply do not know how I will share such a thing with her.

At the same time, I feel I must. I know there are many walls of my own making built up around me for my own safety and precaution. I have created them and I have reinforced them for centuries. Sookie has repeatedly told me she wishes to know me, truly know me, but I have never given her more of myself than I believe she is capable of handling.

She has proven she can handle more than I give her credit for. She has handled more than even the vampires around me by sharing my recent pain, then taking me in and caring for me. I will have to find a way to tell her and simply hope she both keeps her promise and that it changes nothing between us, to hear of my weakest moments in a millennium’s time.

I have been visited by more in Bon Temps since Niklas and Talia stopped by. @BiancaNorthman and her human witch, @LiamDelancy visited with Sookie and I tonight at my request. Though I do not like the witch Bianca has bonded to, the human has agreed to work with @VampyJo’s father, another witch, on finding and joining the coven of @BrodyKeyes and @WereHallow. Knowing the two who drained me have access to such sensitive information as my laptop and @LaceyTB’s phone makes time something that is not on our side. Knowing the red-headed male had been in New York when we tracked drainers there and had been able to both sense Sookie's telepathy and successfully block it certainly makes this an uphill battle. We need Liam and Jorge's aid in order to locate and end these witches before they have the chance to do to another what was done to me.

I will need to have Liam and @JorgeJAlvarez use their magic to secure the resting places of numerous Area Five vampires and to protect the dwellings that belong to our sympathizers and humans. I have always frowned upon magic and its uses, but I have the sinking feeling Bianca’s human and JoAnna’s father may be invaluable to us now. I am prepared to pay them handsomely for their work, but given my own experience with the witches they will be trying to both stop and join, I fear for their safety. I do not know if Bianca would forgive me if something happened to her human and I am sure JoAnna is fond of her father.

Just getting through the dinner discussing the witches and countering them was enough to leave me tired of work and it’s demand on my far-from-healed body. The moments I spend alone with Sookie right now are my saving grace, they are the reason I open my eyes at nightfall with more enthusiasm than my regenerating body wishes to allow.

Sookie is home and all else fails to matter so long as I am with her.

She is my escape, and there is no turning back.

Thoughts from Inside a Walk-In Freezer

Sometimes, when the bills are piling up and the profits aren't what I want them to be, I have thought @BarWithABite will be the second death of me. Last night, it certainly tried to be.

The night began like so many others had. I had to call @RomanLucious to come into work because- once again- he failed to do so of his own freewill. While I poured through the bills that had accumulated for the month, I listened to him justify the purchases he had approved for the club including a new security system. As he explained all of our cameras were virtually worthless, I found my patience quickly waning. Investing so much more in equipment he had originally assured me would last for some time is annoying, to say the least, but the idea that nearly every bit of security footage the club was capturing was worthless was more annoying still.

Now, I wish he would have made the upgrades as soon as he made the outlandish purchase.

Of course, that would require the Deputy to actually spend some time in Fangtasia, which he isn't doing now. Do you want to know why? Because, according to the vampire, he is doomed.

I laughed.

Honestly, as Roman began recounting the events of a few days ago, explaining how an overcoming sensation of bad had suddenly met him, I thought he was paranoid to new levels never before achieved. He couldn’t stay awake during the daylight hours? He wasn’t capable of dreaming? That’s entirely normal, something the Deputy has never really been. To him, it seemed to be a sure sign that something was truly wrong and amiss.

I didn’t dismiss his feelings entirely, but I didn’t have reason to give them much weight either. Even as he went on to explain that @FaeKayley is in some kind of danger from a fairy prince she once was lovers with, I had a difficult time believing his “doom” was the doing of the fae. He didn’t like being told that, though, and it wasn’t long before he was throwing a tantrum and retreating from the club he was supposed to close the night with me.

I let him leave. Between closing on my own or closing with a glorified teacup, I’ll always choose on my own.

That was my first error of the evening.

Regardless of what one may think, a thousand years of existing does not truly make a vampire impossible to best. I like to think it does, but I really know far better than that. Every single night is a battle. I am in a position that makes me more visible and thus a bigger target. I know this. I prepare for it. I have only survived for as long as I have because I am determined to survive. I know there will be moments of pain and suffering. I know there will be torture. Since we left the coffin, the undead have never been at greater risk. Our enemies are numerous and eager. Knowing this is half the battle.

It certainly doesn’t make things any easier, however.

When it came time to close Fangtasia, I sent the employees home in an effort to finish the little remaining work waiting for my attention in peace, something I tend to get very little of when at the club. I had enough time to write a few emails and get off a call to @pamiravenscroft before things took a rather unpleasant turn.

I heard the sound of the back door open, though I was positive I had locked it. I heard the sound of two sets of footsteps and was certain they were human being far too loud for one of the undead. The disgusting smell of Were assaulted my nose along with the sickening sweet smell of an otherness that always unnerves me… magic.

It was worth investigation and I didn’t have far to go to find the intruders. Just outside the door of my office they stood, a male and a female. The male had long, shocking red hair, and the female was tall, dark, and two-natured. I could sense that both were witches from the unnatural scent that clung to them.

That was about all I could gather before my sight was robbed from me.

The agonizing burn of silver is something every vampire learns early in their existence. No matter how many times I have felt it’s sting, it never grows any easier. Now humans come up with such inventive ways to use that particular weakness against us. The colloidal silver was sprayed maliciously into my eyes and face, leaving me blinded and surprised.

Worse than the pain was the smell of my cold flesh as it boiled and burned away. The smell hung in the air as I was pushed backward, silver netting enveloping my body and burning into the exposed flesh of my arms.

They were surprisingly strong. I expect such strength from Weres, but even the male was strong. I did not connect those dots until the pair had backed me up to my desk and I felt the male’s hand collecting from and sampling from one of the fresh wounds the net had created on my limb.

It was difficult to maintain any kind of focus. A vampire survives because of their heightened senses and my own were failing me then. I was sightless, the blindness something more eerie, startling, and damning than anything I could put into words. My nose could process little more than the searing of my assaulted flesh as it flaked and gave away to the silver netting. I could touch nothing trapped beneath the silver blanket that encompassed me, burning me with any attempt I made. The only thing I could taste was my own blood as I attempted to bite back the sounds of agony that desperately wanted to escape.

I could not give my captors such satisfaction.

The only thing I was left with was my hearing, so I used it as best I could when already so overwhelmed. The man, @BrodyKeyes, had been looking for Roman. He spoke of having touched my Deputy already this week and immediately, my mind returned to Roman’s earlier words. He had credited his doom to the fae prince who haunts Kayley, but for this human- this witch- to make such remarks made it clear no fairy was responsible. What made the red-headed male I had so briefly seen so focused on Roman, I had no idea, but he was willing to take his issues with my Deputy out on me in Roman’s absence.

It was then that I felt the first stake. @WereHallow was stronger than any Were I had ever encountered before. She thrust the sharpened piece of timber through the flesh of my shoulder with an expertise that I can only say leaves me confident it is not the first time she has done such a thing. She missed my heart by quite a bit, a fact I was willing to point out if only to focus on anything other than the unthinkable pain.

And the pain truly was unthinkable.

I felt every sinew of muscle sever as the stake was thrust through it, tearing and ripping through me and into my desk, the sound of the wood splintering beneath me not deaf to my ears. I nearly wish that sense would have left me as well. Second death would have been easier than hearing them discuss the value of my blood and the qualities of it’s taste to their disgusting lips and tongues.

I will rip those tongues from their mouths if it is the last thing I ever do on this earth.

My blood, my ancient blood, my record of a thousand years spent wandering this plane… my everything was being drained from my body and licked directly from me by these vile excuses for humans. The blood I have forged my most valuable relationships with, the blood I have created my children with, the blood that defines me was leaving me at a rate so rapid, I could feel myself slipping.

The idea that my last moments could be spent with these deplorable witches gloating over robbing me of my very self sickened me to no end.

I struggled. It was a useless battle when I lacked the sight needed to catch them by surprise. It was all the motivation the female needed to send a stake through my healthy shoulder, leaving me once more stunned as the pain ripped through me.

I could feel the blood pouring from my wounds. I could feel the papers that cluttered my desk adhering to my bloodied back. I could feel the netting digging deeper welts into my now marred flesh. I could feel every drop of blood as it was pulled from me by their instruments of draining.

But I refused to let me lose myself to the pain. That would have been the easy thing to do then and it was certainly tempting, but I couldn’t. It is through pain that strength is found. I would find it, impossible as it seemed.

And it did seem impossible. Every vial that they filled left me weaker. My fruitless attempts to struggle only left me with larger holes to bleed out of and new flesh for the net to burn into. Still, I couldn’t give myself over to the pain and submit.

My blood was already out there, in my progeny and in my bonds. I called out to it with everything I could when already so weak and helpless.

Helpless. A thousand years experience, a thousand years surviving, thousands upon thousands of corpses laying in my wake, thousands of victories to my credit, and here, now, I was helpless.

If the pain had been any less significant and encompassing, I would have laughed aloud when I heard the Fangtasia phone ring. Only a brief moment was spent wondering who would use such a means to reach me when I was certain my condition could be felt by those connected to me. And then, realization dawned on me.

@BarmaidSookie.

I would have smiled had I been remotely capable. As ridiculous as calling the club was, I was thankful it was all she had done. The very idea of her putting herself in the way of these demonic, V-high witches was enough for me to goad my attackers further if only for them to hurry their torture of me along. If they intended on ending me, I would rather see them get to it before Sookie had a chance to reach me than have her meet her end in a similar fashion.

The very idea that @BrodyKeyes was speaking to my lover sickened me though. His face and voice will forever be emblazoned in my memory. Whatever motivates his deep hatred of Roman matters little to me when he has earned himself little more than another powerful enemy.

I can vaguely recall the Were encouraging me to smell something, but it was impossible. The scent of my burned flesh and my own blood were all I could process. It was so overpowering, I couldn’t even smell the stench of moon mutt upon her. She was willing enough to inform me the smell she was speaking of was gasoline and I could quickly figure out just what that meant.

I smelled the fire before I felt it. Pinned to my own desk beneath a silver net and blind, I was trapped, but I refused to be hopeless. Helpless, I could not deny, but I would not be hopeless.

Of course, that only meant more pain for me. I had a choice to make. I could either know more pain I could never have imagined now or inevitably meet my second death in mere moments.

I will always choose pain and existing.

With every ounce of my remaining strength, I forced myself off the desk, letting the stakes rip through my flesh fully and letting the silver net loosely laying over me fall to the floor once I was capable of standing. My arms felt useless from the torn muscle and I could feel what remained of my blood pouring from the fresh wounds.

What was more was the feeling of the flames as they jumped up my legs and burned what little flesh hadn’t been disturbed by the netting because of my clothing.

Still sightless, I didn’t require my eyes to know I was trapped. I could feel the flames so clearly as they sprang up around me, blocking my path if I didn’t want to meet my second death by my own doing. The doors were ablaze and I didn’t possess the strength to break through a wall.

I briefly recalled the numerous times @WaitressGinger found herself locked in the walk-in freezer and was only rescued thanks to our impeccable hearing and Pam taking pity on her.

Willing my arms to work enough to open the door was nearly impossible, but the flames lapping at me was all the motivation required. I managed to open the door to the refrigeration unit and stumble within before slamming it behind me.

The flames weren’t reaching me here. The chilled air didn’t smell of smoke when I took a blind, unnecessary breath, and I was instead only treated to a nauseating mixture of my blood, my burnt flesh, and a few human concoctions I couldn’t place. Through the thick, insulated walls of the unit, I could clearly hear the fire alarms followed shortly by sirens. It wasn’t long before I heard muffled, shouting voices coming from within the club… firefighters, I surmised.

I blindly searched the shelves I was slumped against. I recognized the shape of an open case of TrueBlood and opened a bottle of the cold, synthetic blood, draining it dry despite it’s undesirable qualities a few ways over. It was what I needed now if I intended on lasting even until dawn could kill me and take my pain with it.

I drained three bottles of cold blood in short succession before I gained blurry, flawed vision. I barricaded the door of the unit as best I could in my weakened state. I could hear the firefighters, but knew rescuing a vampire would not be on their list of priorities, nor would they truly know what to do with me if they found me. Seclusion in the chilled prison was better.

Also, it spared my already severely wounded pride.

Once the door was blocked and I once more slipped down to the cold, damp floor to down a few more bloods that I felt her. The agitation and panic wasn’t my own. I was as calm as I could be given my condition and present surroundings. As I closed my still blurry eyes and simply let myself feel, I realized Sookie was very near, so near she was almost with me.

I knew the personnel extinguishing the witches' fire would keep her from reaching me. A human life was much more valuable than that of a vampire to the average breather. I could feel her frustration at this, and though I ached with every ounce of my being, I allowed myself a brief, panged smile.

I take no satisfaction in the pain I am sure she is feeling now because of me. I do not like the feelings of despair, desperation, and frustration she is nearly overwhelmed by now, knowing I am the cause. I do not want to think of her so near when the witches may not have gone as far away as I can only hope they have. I loathe the judgment I am sure she is inundated with, both aloud and in thoughts as she waits for me.

But I am comforted by her nearness and by the idea that she is here because she wants to be. I can feel her affection, and it is the only warmth I can find in my present prison.

My body is not remotely healed. I am broken. I am starving. I am in more pain than I can recall being in. I have no idea why this has happened and have far more questions than I have answers.

But as I willingly submit to my daytime death, the only thoughts my mind knows belong to her, and I have never been more thankful for or more fascinated in another.