The night I fell, was the night he sang. His voice was so sweet, so bitter sweet that it hurt. Bitter because I couldn't see the man who created the melody and sweet as the morning dew. I didn't mean to fall, but I wanted to see him. No, I needed to see him. I remeber trying so hard to see him without falling but I fell anyway. The air whisking away my breath, I didn't scream, I didn't shout. I can't talk you see, since I was a little girl I couldn't speak. I remember only seeing the darkness that cloaked the world before hitting the cold, hard ground. I remember nothing after the impact, but somewhere in the depths of my brain I registered warm hands picking me up gently. But that's for another time. I don't think I could manage seeing him, what if he laughs? What if he calls me a monster because of what I am? So many what ifs but nobody to answer them for me. But there is one thing I do know, he must never. NEVER find out about what I really am.......
