Requiem for the living

Chapter 3: Abreg ad hābra

How beautiful yet mortal is to love someone who can't love a thing. It's in their eyes, and you hope you are wrong, that it's just the exhaustion, pretext after pretext till it hits you hard and you know. You know there won't be a slight of redeption for the feelings they want to share, or those that you are rather looking for desperate till you find none.

Brendon learned the hard way what it meant to love in the most raw circumstance of uncondition, without receiving back the gift he gave to her like an offering on the altar of his own feelings that ended up in the making of a cold blooded sacrifice.

"I have to show you something, quickly, before he gets back. I don't want him back", Mary protested, stupidly in his head as he followed even with more hypocrisy the woman who he knew was a liar, a thief of his own heart.

The mansion wasn't far from his home but it seemed for him like an eternity to get in the garden, his hand numb in hers, without even trying to ease that bond that was like a sweet poison reminding him of days he thought was being loved.
They didn't get inside, but in the back of the garden there was this wooden door in the ground, stained white blossoms covering it like in a fairytale he wouldn't fit in properly.

The darkness inside overwhelmed him as he could hear his breath that went fasten, driven by curiosity and something at the verge of fear, something that made his mind filled with wonder and awe when a light of a candle was ignited.

"Mary, what on Earth is this place?"
Brendon asked suspiciously as his eyes searched his path through the blinding semiobscurity, rainsing doubt at the sight of the woman who seemed to turn into a mysterious, yet terrifying silouette.

"A piece of Heaven, isn't it?"

"No, that couldn't be...Mary, no", Brendon protested as he almost whispered like a prayer he'd still wait for a response that will never come. "It's far from it", he insisted as the curiosity made him came closer, inspecting the place to his own will, the scent of wood and what other condiments Mother Earth itself seems to have made to the humans delight.

"You would all think I should be punished for tempting fate", she rejected his already known thoughts to what she'd take as an improvement. "But don't we all?"

"I'm not supposed to be here", he complained, a scared thought going through his mind as he was watching the surroundings in horror.

Her hands, moist with the scent of fear of rejection surrounded his arms, heavily but still lightly as her will was to stop his disbelief.

"They'll send me to the gallows. I am vulnerable to your will now, Brendon."

"But why you?" he asked shyly as he couldn't even sense the asking of forgiveness in her words, in her eyes that couldn't have told a story he'd find her salvation in. "You've had everything, yet you are doing this awful, Devil's..."

"Do not believe the mouths that would ever accuse me of doing the Devil's will, Brendon. Do not trust those fairytales in which I would play the role of evil incarnate. I am binded to nothing", she claimed as she cuped his hands in her's, like a hard try to make him remember to whom she was binded all along, and no creature in creation nor pact would erase what they've had still the very moment when their eyes met, and their juvenile curiosity made them grow together, but so often apart.

"I understand your neclarities", she assumed as she came closer, painful closure that made his mind twitch in that reminding of how they used to be, what seemed to have been once upon the time. "People are scared of what their mind can't comprehend, so their mechanism they use against the truth,...against their growth... is denial."

"You know it best as you denied what we could've have without giving us a chance, Mary", he responded with a bitter sarcasm that drew his smile across his face that was searching her memories at the fresh sight of her. "You are a ...