Hymns of Struggle

3- Reveries

"Taste and see that the LORD is good. Blessed is the one who takes refuge in him." - Psalm 34:8

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She felt her chest imploding. Painful screams weren't enough to drown the blood in her ears anymore. This was it. This was it.

"Oh mom...I couldn't...I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

The faces of people she loved lingered over her.

A smile almost curved her cheeks at how dumb and pointless some of the memories were. Her dad buying her a McDonald's ice cream cone. Her first two friends fighting over who would get to be her best friend as if she couldn't have two at once. The color of the leaves outside the window of her first college class. Not things she'd point out herself...so stupid...but it was soothing anyway. She was glad her life was like that; it pushed away the regret that lead to...

A wheeze crept from inside. A pulse of red flickered and the faces were gone.

"No...no...please, don't leave...please don't leave...I need you...I don't want to be alone...please...p-"

The tang of blood and bile filled her mouth and she felt a numbness sweep over her body like a breeze that plucks the leaves from trees one by one. The last thing she felt was a brush against her hand, one last comfort, one last assurance that someone was with her.

"Take care of me, Lord."

He will.

And with that, she let go.

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Why?

The woman stared blankly upward, seeing nothing. It had been this way since he had laid her down in that spot.

Was this a test? Was this a gift? ...Why? Why did it happen, why like this? What happened?

Many thoughts clamored his mind as he paced restlessly back and forth, side to side, but he was soon distracted by an unbearable comprehension that scratched and clawed its way forward. It'd been so long since he saw someone, someone with flesh. There was someone else, such a long time ago, but he was gone for good. He only brought trouble anyway. After all that sacrifice, that man could just leave while he...!

His hands clenched forcefully when they came into view. Sometimes, he was almost not repulsed to see them. But remembering...seeing right in front of him...a body...that made it crueler.

The rigid gaze of his mask still somehow betrayed a look of revile as it shifted to observe her, watching in fascination and sorrow at the violent spasms that seemed to pulse too powerfully for her figure to contain. This was like nothing he'd ever seen before.

Could he remember? What was it like to have a body? He knew he had one once, but so much eluded him now, suffocated the memory and sensation of who he was. His bones drowned in ink now and had washed away everything he used to be- No. The thought of it being anything but atonement alarmed him and was quickly pushed aside before it poisoned his faith. He was different now. He needed to be. That was his lord's grace, his mercy.

He saw a flash. He looked down and saw ink bubble from his arms and cascade over the rest of his body. Yelling, begging, pain.

Just as suddenly, something seized him from his torment. He realized he was staring at his hands again. Nothing had happened. Or maybe it had all over again. A sound rang through the air, like the croak of a frog singing amid a night as thick as velvet. It lulled him and soon he was kneeling over her, listening for more.

"I couldn't...I'm sorry...I'm so sorry...I'm so sorry." Her voice was hoarse and labored, as if speaking alone was killing her. Maybe it was. But what did she have to be sorry for? This person- this soul- had made no mistake if she came to look for her savior. Maybe she didn't know he was so close to her.

He crooked his neck to the side. Just beyond, a pentagram. The likeliness of his lord protected it- unwavering, virtuous, omnipresent.

"No...please..."

He only now noticed he was moving toward what he saw, enveloping his entire conscious until she sang again.

"Don't leave...please don't leave..."

There was a sharp, unintentional turn of his upper body in response to this request. It was...compelling. Hesitant, he allowed himself to come back over her, looming his head over hers.

"Please don't leave...I need you..."

Why did...she need him?

"I don't want to be alone," the woman answered, "Please...p-"

The pleading ceased once she started choking on something that had risen from her punctured stomach. Her mouth cried without any noise, and he saw her shakes grow weaker and weaker. He could see the ink again, crawling over his body, and then leaving him back before her.

This was like nothing he'd ever seen before...but he realized he had felt it before himself.

He was so unsure, so mystified of all they were experiencing together in this fleeting moment, that he didn't know if it was a decision of instinct or consciousness.

The muscles in her palm relaxed in his gingerly touch.

"Take care of me, Lord."

Her lips let free one last breath. All the tension left in her was swept into the dust that surrounded the two beings.

"He will."