I stopped in front of her door, like I had done for so many times in the last few months.

My fingers touched the doorbell and it rang like a bell from beyond the grave,
something that always managed to make me quiver for a quick second, before my wits
once more took control over my body and made me cease that foolish action. For
some reason or another, every single time I stood outside her door, waiting for her to
emerge from her chamber, filled me with a sense of dread like I had never felt before
in my life. It was like I was mortified by the idea that this time, this beautiful mirage
would finally come to an end; the door before me suddenly evaporating in thin air,
leaving me to wonder in what twisted dream was I in and for how much time had I
been trapped in it.

But the door always opened after a few pain-inducing moments, allowing me to bask
in her beauty and grace for one more night. Tonight, she was wearing an odd
combination of pink and black, but it suited her so very well that I could not even
fathom why she ever needed to wear any other color. Her auburn hair was untied,
cascading over her shoulders; her brown eyes glistened in such a way that the entire
hallway was bathed in light; her features, so fair and handsome in the glow that
emmanated from behind her. I had never seen her face made-up, save for maybe the
rouge that she used to paint her lips with. Once thing that did easily catch my attention
was the ribbon or bow she always had on. Her entire visage was awe-inspiring,
forever captivating me from the first moment my gaze fell upon this most heavenly
creation.

Like always, she motioned for me to step inside, and like always, I obeyed her every
order (transmitted to me by words or by simple motions). She closed and locked the
door as I entered, to ensure that noone would interrupt us for the entirety of our time
spent together. The food was already prepared by the time I got there every single
time, and I was charged with picking one of those small, rustic casks of good wine for
both of us to savour. Her hands touched by shoulders and helped me unburden myself
of the terrible weight that my coat suddenly appeared to have. Then, I took off my
shoes and threw them on the other side of the room. I grasped her open palm and
gently carried it over to my lips, placing a kiss that I hoped could – even in the least –
express to her my admiration and affection. There were no words that a mere pathetic
creature like could utter that were worthy enough to describe her, so I maintained the
hope that my actions would speak instead of my mouth. There was something, as it
were, remarkable – yes, remarkable, although that is but a humble term I can employ
to express my full meaning – about the entire individuality of this being.

She smiled and giggled like she used to do, showing those teeth of a perfect white.
However, she frequently complained to me that she was suffering from terrible aches
from one tooth or another. I silently cursed the God that allowed pain to scourge the
being that brought light into the otherwise dark existence that I lived. Her arms pulled
me towards her, enveloping me in an embrace that I dreamed would last forever. My
body felt her tender warmth and slowly descended into a state of such relaxation that
my consciousness slipped away from this world. There were only two things in the
universe right then and there: she and I. And I would not have it any other way. It
wasn’t in her usual behaviour to hug me, so when she did so, I would enjoy every
single second of it, elongating it to entire eons in some remote part of my being. But, I
could not keep silent a voice that kept buzzing at the back of my head, desperately
trying to tell me something. It was like my own mind was revolting against what the
outer shell of my body was feeling.

My thoughts drifted to first time I ever met her. It was late at night and I was finally
heading home after just another miserable day of my trivial and pitiful existence. After
every shift at the shadowy office I worked in, I used to go to a pub and drink away
everything, pouring countless glasses down my throat, in an effort to make the bliss of
purgatory remain over my head for a moment longer. While stabling on the way to the
shoe-box of an apartment in which I laid my head to sleep, I stumbled and toppled to
the ground. My brain kept sending signals to my legs, trying to restore some form of
balance to my intoxicated system and make me prance for the rest of the journey back
“home”. However, all efforts were futile. My lower-body gave way, planting me face-
first into the cold stone of the sidewalk. Coughing ensued, followed closely by small
amounts of vomit and blood. Yet, a strange warmth began to envelop me, starting
from my frozen feet and going all the way up, to my alcohol-submersed brain. Then I
felt a gentle caress on the back of my neck, and my curiosity was of such magnitudes
that it allowed me to push myself as to raise my head, expecting to see some cutthroat
that was about to rob me of my worthless life and my a little more worthy wallet. No
dagger pierced my flesh, though. Instead, my eyes met the gaze of the most serene
woman – Nay! Not woman! Most serene angel, better said, that I had ever been
blessed with seeing up until that day!

She took me to the very same apartment in which I made my lair, but her mere
presence made me see even the walls in a different manner. Everything seemed to
possess beauty that had been kept hidden from me, and now bloomed before my
enthralled eyes. My dry lips were sprinkled with water. So were my eyes and
forehead. When I finally came to my senses, she was still there, preparing something
on the gas stove that I seldom ever used. After a few minutes - in which I remained
pinned to the armchair in which I had been placed – of studying her like a small child
studies the new attractive teacher that appears before him for the first time, she turned
off the stove, turned, and strode a little in the other direction. I fought the urge to
throw myself at her feet and beg her to remain by my side. My distress was
unfounded, however, as the heavenly creatures had merely walked to one of the
cupboards to retrieve a small clear glass mug, in which she poured what to me seemed
like a concoction as black as the primordial ooze. Then, as she drew closer, the smell
reached me, and it was made clear to me that I was in a worse shape than I had
thought, for the glass mug only contained coffee, a brew that I was all too familiar
with. She stood down by my side and brought the cup to my lips. A single sip of the
liquid inside seemed to revitalize my entire being. Then, while she gently caressed my
cheek, she just as gently smashed the cup over the side of my head. A deep gash
appeared a few inches above my eye, spewing out blood galore. I was as stunned as I
was fascinated. Was I about to be murdered by a psychopath? Then so be it! If only I
would be allowed to live but a few more moments, so I might at the very least ask her
what name she bore.

“Stand up and stand tall, or I will have to kill you with my own two hands” she
whispered into my ear. Then she kissed the wound, and I could clearly see a small
stain of my own blood on her lower lip, a stain that disappeared but a few moments
later, when she licked her lips. The creature got up again, slowly but surely heading
towards the cupboard again. She retrieved yet another cup, this time a stout one,
which she filled to the brim. Retrieving a vial from one of her pockets, she poured its
content into the cup and – this might have been just my imagination – then, I could
swear, she muttered some strange words that I could not understand. The more the
smell touched my nose, the more my lips craved to once again be blessed with the
opportunity to submerse them into that wonderful brew. Furthermore, I knew that if
she would allow me to drink once more, that would also mean that she would stand on
the couch with me, a wish that I silently must have transmitted through my eyes.

The angel did grant me my wish, as she sank into the leather of the sofa. This time,
she grabbed my hand with a force I did not think such a lovely creature was capable of
displaying, and guided it towards the cup. My fingers were forcefully coiled around
the piece of heavy pottery. Was her intent to test my ability to move my pained and
weakened body? Indeed, the state in which she had found me did must not have given
a good impression, but even thought I lived a life of depravation and vices, I was still
quite a tall and strong individual for my age. I grasped the cup firmly with both hands,
catching her small and frail hand betwixt mine in the process. Yet, not a single muscle
on her face flinched for even a moment, something that gave me the courage to
maintain my hold on her hand. I drank like a poor soul that had been trapped in the
cruel sun of the most unforgiving desert for the past few weeks. The truth was that,
while I loved coffee with all my heart, I stopped being able to afford it quite a few
weeks ago. Besides, what I now sampled was unlike anything else I had ever had in
my entire life, so sweet and yet so very strong at the same time. She smiled at me,
signaling me to empty the container until nothing remained.

I suddenly felt like I awoke from some terrible coma, my strength and vitality
increased tenfold. I let go of both her hand and the mug, slowly raising my gaze to
meet hers. “What do I do now?” was the thought that swirled in my mind
continuously. She got up, put on her coat and then came back and placed a long finger
on my wound. Next, she proceeded to tap on my old and tattered coat, silently bidding
me to put it on. While I did so, she grabbed another vial from one of her pockets and
threw back her pretty head, swallowing it in the blink of an eye. I still did not know
what words I could address her, and I still knew too little about her to express any sort
of idea. My palms and fore-head were glistening with sweat, panic slowly creeping up
on my already tormented mind. But my strong mind and the deadly curiosity I
manifested towards her made me push forward, following her through the door that
she had opened. We stepped out in the cold air of that moonlit night, walking side by
side for a while. Then I started to fall behind her, unable to keep up the relentless pace
that seemed to not even affect her. Round and round the city we went that night, in a
sort of pilgrimage. Yet, every time I fell too far behind, she would stop and wait
patiently for my arrival, only to resume her incessant stride after gently caressing my
cheek. I was lead to incredible places that evening, places I had no idea even existed,
of an uncontested beauty, which made me realize that the world might not have been
as full of gloom as I believed. But for every beautiful place she showed me, she also
showed me another, a place of eternal stillness and darkness. These places I cannot
describe, for it would be too much for my worn out mind, and I fear I would be
reduced to a blubbering fool if I would seek to relieve those memories.

Some way or another, we found ourselves in the middle of a large opening in the
middle of a wooded area. I was not sure how we had gotten there, but both my
intuition and reasoning – faculties that I hold in high esteem and which serve me
dutifully even when intoxicated! – told me that we must have stood somewhere in the
heart of a park. The lake that was present but a few feet away had boats on it and the
entire surrounding area was strewn with old-looking benches. The air seemed to be
still, just like my heart. I could barely breathe, my body quivering from every single
muscle because of the merciless cold that had dug its claws deep into my body and my
soul. My strength had left me a while ago, the effects of the potion I had been given
earlier dissipating. I tumbled to the ground for a second time that fateful night, but this
time, she was there. I fell, but I fell in her arms, which began to squeeze me like her
only wish was to squeeze the very life out of my shivering body.
“Are you cold?” I heard her whisper. She always talks in a low, hushed tone. I
nodded, accepting the fact that I was now fully in her power. It was up to her to decide
what happened with this poor, pathetic creature that she held like a dying dog. Her
hand crept behind her back, and my eyes were large with terror when she extracted a
small, ceremonial dagger from her back. I must have whimpered, for she shushed me
by placing the blade on my lips. The tip of the dagger was now being dragged all
along my face, but not in a way that was meant to draw blood. It was like she was
suddenly blind and was relying on the sense of touch to discover my features, a sense
of touch that was concentrated in the tip of that terrifying bodkin. From some deep
reach of my mind, a thought arose and then took control over my hands. I gathered
whatever force I had left and grabbed her thin wrist. I could have snapped it like a
twig, that frail it was. But I did not. Who was I to injure such a lovely creature, which
had saved me once that evening? Instead, I raised her hand to my lips for the first time
ever, placing a kiss upon them and bowing my head in respect. At that point, I pulled
her hand down, until the blade rested upon my throat.

“Yours…” was the only thing that I managed to mumble. Out of nowhere, she let out
a hearty laugh. Was she laughing at my incapacity to defend myself or at my
stupidity? I could not pick whichever was truer. I fully now expected that terrible final
blow to come and end my life, but I was left with nothing but the echo of her laugh
still ringing in my ears. I opened my eyes and saw her arched over my still form,
smiling sadly. A single tear was running down her pale white visage from her left eye.
In an act of defiance towards the pain of my own body, my hand emerged from under
me and tried wiping it, but I was spent.

My eyes closed once again, and I felt something wet fall on the bridge of my nose.
Then, a terrible pain erupted in the entirety of my being, right to the deepest reaches of
my mortal soul. She surely had stabbed me in the head, so excruciating was this
suffering! I finally dropped into a state of total oblivion, sure of the fact that I was
now dead. It was warm and pleasant, contrary to what priests and ‘men of culture’ had
theorized death must be like. There was only a feeling of eternal peace and stillness.
Surrounded from all sides by black, I allowed myself to be overtaken by it. My only
wish was to be one with the abyss, to fully loose myself. A voice then came, calling
me towards it from amidst the shadows, unwilling to let me embrace my doom. I was
compelled to let myself be ushered by the voice, and my eyes gradually grew
accustomed to a light that was beginning to manifest itself from somewhere still very
far away.

I reached the light in the end. I was lying on my bed, in my hollow apartment. After
mustering enough energy to get up, I dragged my broken body to the bathroom, where
I threw out violently. Red and black mixed inside of the sink, and, looking in the
mirror, I noticed that my face had the pallor of a dead man that was still somehow able
to walk. There was a deep gash above my eye. Had I fallen while intoxicated and
cracked my skull on the sidewalk? That would explain the state I was in and the
insane dream from which I had just awakened. Opening the medicine cabinet with
shaking hands, I grabbed a bottle and swallowed a handful of pills, praying that they
would somehow ameliorate my pain. I got myself as far as the couch, on which I
collapsed exhausted. The pills were only helping me in the slightest, so it took what it
felt like an eternity to compose my being. What a mad nightmare I had been forced to
live. And it had only been a nightmare, right? Then why did I felt like something was
missing? Something that I desperately sought to put a finger on. My eyes burst open
and I sprang on my feet. I was rewarded with jolts of pain that spread in my body like
electricity. The mugs! My fragmented memories tried to put together the image of two
mugs: one broken and one still whole. If the mug that remained whole and the
shattered pieces of the other one could actually be found around there, then that would
surely mean that it wasn’t a nightmare, but reality, what I had been through the other
night!

My foot touched the floor and I had to retract it, for I felt a prick against my skin. I
jumped to the floor, holding like a trophy of victory the thing that proved I was both
not a madman and the maddest man in the entire world. I held aloft a piece of pottery
that was still smeared with my blood, while hollering like a happy maniac. I turned on
my knees and began surveying the room for the other object that would once and
forever prove to me an angel (or a demon!) had shown itself to me. On the stove, next
to the old kettle in which I had once prepared my coffee rested a small vial. It had no
place there! In fact, in had no place in the entire apartment, as I had no use for such
small things! So it wasn’t all a nightmare and a beautiful dream.

I gained enough vitality after this revelation to allow me to raise myself to my feet and
begin to rummage around for other clues, that might lead me to Her. My leather coat
was recklessly thrown in a corner of the room, and I rushed towards it. Initially, I had
the impression nothing was strange about it, something that diminished my spirits. But
then I noticed a patch of leather that was of a blacker shade than the rest of the coat.
There was also a hole right in the middle of the patch, of such a dimension that could
only be produced by a dagger. So…she had indeed stabbed me. Right in the heart, no
less. The blacker shade must have appeared as a result of the blood rushing out of the
wound and staining the leather. Then how could I possibly still draw air? How was it
that my soul was still contained in this vessel?

Inside the chest-pocket of the coat I found a small note, tattered and thorn. It was an
address, that much I was certain of. I wasted no time, putting on the blood stained
vestment and heading out the door. It was like some supernatural force drove me
forward, making me all but forget about the fact that a few minutes ago I was barely
able to move. I jumped and I ran, crossing streets, pushing aside anyone that crossed
my way, dodging cars and carriages that appeared out of nowhere. I was running like
the devil’s hounds were biting at my heels. I had to see her! I had to know that she
was real!

Fate had a cruel fate reserved for me; as once I reached the place which the address in
my hand pointed to, I was met with the charred remains of what had once been a
beautiful and grand building. I let out a terrible howl and looked around like a rabid
animal in search of prey. A young man was heading towards me, surely to attempt to
help me. My feet bore me towards him and my hands closed around his throat.

“Mercy, sir! I had merely wanted to see if I can be of any assistance to you!” he said
in a frightened tone.

“Where is it?! Where is she?!” I kept barking at him, while also pointing to the
building.

“The old Montagne d’Ombres hotel? It burned down a few years ago! The she you are
looking for is certainly not in there!” he shouted back, now under the impression that I
must be one of those loonies that sometimes makes his escape from the asylums from
around the city. Then his gaze fell upon my chest, and I could clearly hear him gasp.
“Good God, man! You are bleeding! You have to go to a hospital.” But his kind and
rational words were lost on me. I spat towards him and then let him loose.

“And you have to go to hell, my good man!” I screeched at him. The poor boy turned
around on his heels and started running for his life. As for me, I walked over to a lamp
post and fell against it. So, it was over. She was not real after all. Dreariness and
exhaustion put their paws upon me, and I slept right there, like a man of the street. My
coat must have also made me look like one, masking me to other people, for nobody
disturbed my ‘rest’. Many times I had seen such scum littering the streets of our so
called ‘great’ city. They stank like hell, talked in the most vulgar manner possible and
begged from everyone that passed by them, even children. If begging was not
successful, however, some resorted to simply cutting your throat from one end to the
other and relieving your cold body of anything valuable. Thinking back to these true
wastes of flesh and spirit, I always got shivers on my spine, for even in my darkest
moments, I could not picture myself as one of them.

When I finally came to, I was staring at a dark, starless sky. Night must have
descended, signaling me that it was time to give up my idiotic quest to find an angel
and return to the gloominess of my apartment, where I was planning to put an end to
my life, once and for all. Imagine my shock when I got up and I was met by the
opened door of the Montagne d’Ombres hotel, which now looked like how it must
have in its glory days, save for the color of the stone, that still retained the appearance
that it had been badly burned in a fire. Although there were multiple levels, each
having around five or six sets of windows, I could only see light coming out of one of
them. I cheered and began hoping again. Slowly, I walked towards the door, expecting
it to disappear somehow, but the dark hotel remained there, like a sleeping giant. I
almost had the feeling that it was mocking me for my sedated pace. I grabbed the
door’s handle and used it as support to enter the ancient building. I don’t say ancient
because it was that old, but because right now, it seemed to be outside of time and
space, with a timeless mind of its own. The corridors were cold and dark, the air so
heavy that you could almost feel it with your hands. An old lift and an old door
greeted me after a few minutes. Which one should I take? What if I fell and broke my
neck when I was so close to being with her once again? I had to be precautious. I
deliberated much, and then finally settled for the lift. Of course the stairs would be
much safer in normal conditions, but I had to operate under the assumption that this
building had indeed passed through a fire, so the wooden stairs would be more
damaged than the elevator, which had to be made of metal (and was pulled up by a
metal wire). I pulled the lever that was used to make the elevator ascend or descend,
but nothing happened. Well, damned by everything, I would not let a piece of
machinery stop me now! I pulled and pulled, hoping with all my heart that the only
problem was the fact that the lever was rusted in place. My insane efforts were
rewarded with a loud crack when the cogs finally snapped back into action, free from
the rust that had shackled them for so long. The elevator started to go up, and for some
funny reason I found it necessary to give my hair a quick brush with my fingers and
adjust the collar of the shirt that I was wearing. I couldn’t do anything about the blood
stain on the coat, though, but I figured that the angelic being would not mind, her
being the one that had stabbed me, after all.

The light I had seen from the street was somewhere on the sixth level of the hotel. The
more I ascended, the colder it became. At the second level, I was already shivering! At
the third level, my breath was already materializing before my eyes, something that
does not happen if it is not freezing. When the elevator reached the fourth level, I was
forced to jump from near the door, as a hand suddenly burst from the darkness of the
hallway and tried to seize me by my collar, intent, most likely, on ripping me to
shreds. I started to hear loud cries and screams, the elevator began to shake like
someone was stomping on top of it, and hands appeared from out of nowhere trying to
seize or strangle me. I crawled in a corner, where I started to kick the hands and stuff
my ear with my own fingers to try and stop the infernal sounds that were making tears
well up in my eyes. All of a sudden, it all stopped! I was relieved for a second, only to
fall prey to despair a second later, when black goo started to appear from the floor,
forming a creature that could not have come out of any other place than hell itself. I
kicked and punched the monstrous apparition, screaming from the top of my lungs,
unwilling to let even this beast of darkness stop me from reaching her. The monster
pinned me to the floor and was preparing to tear of heart out using its claws and fangs,
only to hear it roaring in agony. Then it jumped into the ceiling of the elevator, trying
to escape through the cracks in it. The fact that the beast was in pain gave me to
courage to get up and grab it by the feet, pulling it back down constantly, wrestling it
to the floor. Something was killing it! Well, I was going to make sure that that
something did a good job. After a few minutes of scratching and biting me, the
monster let out one final blood-freezing cry and disappeared. I noticed, fatigued and in
pain, that the elevator had finally reached the sixth level. I jumped straight out the
moment the door finally opened.

I had a limp now because of the injuries I had sustained, but I kept pushing forward
for the rest of the way. The light was now noticeable, shining brightly from under the
second door to the left. I walked to it and rang the bell, ready to collapse in her arms.
The light died in the instance my fingers made contact with the shiny alloy of the
button. I screamed in horror, petrified by fear.

But the door opened and I felt a divine warmth wash over me. She was standing in the
threshold, arms crossed, as beautiful as the first time I saw her bent over me in the
street. She embraced me and kissed my fore-head, my eyes, my lips.

“You cursed fool! Why did you come here? This is no place for you.” She said softly.

“You…have to…kill me…if you want to get rid of me!” I pleaded with her between
painful pants. She giggled and touched the stain on my coat, then proceeded to touch
every single scratch and bite I had gotten during my encounter with the beast in the
elevator. Then she opened the door wider and helped me inside. We ate together that
night, drank together, and I fell asleep in an ancient arm-chair, while still holding her
hand. When morning came, I awoke outside, near the same lamp post that I had fallen
by. Yet now, unlike the first time I woke up, I was assured of the fact that I could
return whenever I wanted. And I did, every single night since then. First to learn what
she was (something I still do not know), then out of pure admiration and… should I
call it love?

My story does not end here, however. I am just too tired to keep telling it. Maybe I
shall one day return and tell it wholly, but until then, I go to sleep, and I go to meet
her.

My beloved. My executioner. My all.