What Is Love?

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The Slender man

A week went by, and then a month. In my three hundred years of existing, I had never known such a short period of time to seem to last so long.

My proxies and associates were concerned, that much I could tell, but I didn't really care to convince them such thoughts were foolish. I didn't care much for anything, as of late to tell the truth. My work was suffering, yet funnily enough my targets barely even seemed to notice the lull in my attacks. If they did, they only equated it to the calm before the storm and feared even worse would soon come. That was fine with me; let them think what they wanted.

Observer was the most persistent of my proxies, insisting on regular "consultation meetings" to discuss our course of action in Cape Coral. I saw straight through the little demon as always, however, and knew it was merely just a pretense for checking in on me. Even after the severe punishment I'd administered after his interference with Danny, he still had a hard time staying in his place.

I sighed and ran my hand over my blank face.

Danny. It all came back to her.

I wasn't sure quite when or where it had happened... this giant tumble that landed me in love with the girl - and yes, I did mean love - but I wished it had never occurred. I'd gone from barely admitting I cared for her to valuing her life more than anything in this world faster than I ever imagined I would. There was just something about her...

But none of it mattered anymore. She would never be mine... not now...

The look in her eyes had been the hardest part to bare. Her words had stung, true as they were notwithstanding, but the fear, and hurt, and betrayal... Her eyes once again had struck me to the core.

I wanted to explain to her... wanted to make her see it was all for her own good... But I knew she would never have listened. She saw me for what I was now, after all.

A monster.

So I did all I could do, and made sure she was safe and cared for, and left her a small memento of our brief acquaintance: the jacket I'd loaned her before, and a single red rose... Red for the color of my tie, and for the accents of her new car and totality of her old one. Red for the color of her lipstick on the night we had first kissed, and red for the blood that had been spilled... Her blood.

I still watched her, sometimes. I tried to keep myself away, but selfishly and greedily I was still drawn to her. I never lingered long, and my unknown visits only lasted long enough for me to make sure she was okay. That's all that mattered, really, was that she was safe. If any harm came to her then everything would all have been for naught... So despite knowing very well she probably hated me, I still protected her.

She cried a lot, and every time I saw her tears lull her to sleep I wished for nothing more than to comfort her. The bandages on her body eventually were shed as she healed, but the very sight of her broken person still angered me beyond consolation. Those damned meddling demons... My tentacles swirled maniacally just thinking about how much irreparable damage they had caused.

I wasn't likely to see hide or tail of Habit for quite a while, I knew. He would spend a decade or two sulking, then eventually would come back looking for more tortured souls to murder. This wasn't the first time I'd had to kill him, however this was the first time it had been over something so... personal.

If I was being honest with myself, I kept waiting - hoping, really - for little Danielle to call me, or try to make some form of contact. My mind foolishly set up scenario after scenario where she may come to realization that I truly did care for her, in the end... that she might possibly miss my voice as much as I irresponsibly missed her's.... But I knew I would only drive myself to insanity with these unreasonable ideas.  Danny was gone.

And I wasn't going to do a damned thing to get her back.

She deserved better than me. Deserved more that what a monster could give her, and I knew very well that I had no right to go chasing after her. As much as it hurt me, I had to let her be - let her recover and heal in her own time, without my interference. Time heals everything, or so I've been told... It sounded like a ruse to me, however. The worst kinds of wounds never truly healed, and you carried them with you till death. So, yes - maybe time does heal...

But maybe it just works better when you don't live forever.