The door to the café swung open, and in she walked, Sarah, her
presence like a soft breeze in a suffocating room. Her long black
hair flowed behind her like silk spun from shadow, and her grey
eyes shimmered, reflecting the faint light like polished steel under
a cloudy sky. She moved with a grace that was almost otherworldly,
each step deliberate, each motion carrying an elegance that seemed
out of place in a world so drab and cold. My heart sank and
quickened at once. "Sarah..." Of course, it had to be now. The date we
had planned was supposed to be tomorrow, but fate, cruel as
always, played its hand early. I wasn't ready, not for her, not like
this. Panic tightened my chest as I sank further into my seat,
pulling my hat lower over my eyes, as if that would somehow shield
me from her gaze. Then, it hit, the familiar, sharp pain. My chest
heaved involuntarily, and a wet, hacking cough escaped my lips
before I could stop it. I pressed a hand to my mouth, cursing under
my breath, willing the spasms to cease. "Please, don't notice...
please just walk past..." But, of course, fate wouldn't be so kind. "I'd
recognize that cough anywhere," her voice came, soft and melodic,
yet tinged with quiet amusement. It was the voice of someone who
had seen through every lie you could tell yourself and still found a
way to smile at you for it. My stomach twisted. "Damn it," I thought,
lifting my head just enough to see her standing there, her figure
framed by the dull glow of the café's lights. She was smiling—that
same warm, unassuming smile that could disarm even the most
hardened soul. And then, before I could think of a way out, she sat
down right in front of me, her hands folded neatly on the table.
"Excuse me, miss," I said, forcing my voice into a gruff, unfamiliar
tone. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Sarah's response was a quiet, lilting laugh, a sound so pure
it seemed to momentarily chase away the weight of the
world. It wasn't loud or boisterous, but soft and sincere, as if
she laughed not at me, but for me, trying to lighten the
heavy air that clung to me like a second skin. My face burned
beneath the mask. I had faced monsters, tasted blood,
endured torment, but nothing made me feel as vulnerable as
her laugh did. I was disarmed, a soldier stripped of his armor
in the face of kindness. "You're so silly, Adam," she said
gently, her voice a melody that made the bitter tea in my
stomach feel just a little warmer. "How about we have our
date here? I'm free today." The words hung in the air, simple
but devastating. "A date, now?" My throat tightened. "Are you
sure?" I managed, my voice cracking slightly under the
strain of panic and disbelief. Sarah tilted her head, her
expression softening. "Of course. What's the matter?" She
paused, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in my attire
—the ski mask, the top hat, the oversized sunglasses. "Why
the disguise?" I swallowed hard, fumbling for an excuse. "To
keep warm," I said quickly, "and, you know, to avoid
spreading anything. Tuberculosis, after all." Her gaze
lingered on me, her brows furrowing slightly. She wasn't
convinced, not entirely. "Adam," she said, her voice quieter
now, almost hypnotic, "we've known each other for a while.
You don't have to hide from me. I know you've been going
through so much. You can talk to me, you know. Think of me
as... a sister, if that helps."
Her words pierced through my defenses. My chest tightened,
not from the illness this time, but from the weight of emotions I
could no longer suppress. I looked down, my hands trembling
slightly. "This... this is hell, Sarah," I said at last, my voice low
and broken, barely audible over the hum of the café. "Every
day... it feels like I'm being watched. Like there's something,
someone, always there, just out of sight. And this damn
illness..." I coughed again, my body shaking with the effort. "It's
killing me slowly. My luck... everything... It's like I'm cursed.
Forsaken by God, by the world. I don't belong here. I was never
supposed to exist." Silence settled between us, heavy and
oppressive. I felt Nasira's presence then, a quiet shadow behind
me. She wanted to speak, to offer some form of comfort, but I
could feel her hesitation. She feared my wrath, my rejection.
She had every reason to. But then Sarah reached out, her hands
warm as they gently covered mine. The touch startled me,
pulling me from the storm of my thoughts. I looked up, meeting
her eyes—those calm, steady eyes that seemed to hold the
weight of the world with ease. "Adam," she said softly, her tone
soothing, like a lullaby, "you're wrong. You're not forsaken.
You're not a mistake. You're stronger than you think, and you're
not alone." Her words washed over me like a balm, easing the
ache in my soul, if only for a moment. I felt a strange mix of
shame and comfort, her presence both grounding and
overwhelming. "Come with me," she said suddenly, her voice
light but firm. "Let's go to my house. We'll sit in the garden. It'll
be quiet there." The suggestion made my pulse quicken. "Your
house? What about your parents?"
She smiled again, though this time there was a hint of
hesitation in her expression. "They're not there. Not really.
Especially my dad... he's always watching, but never here."
Her words puzzled me, but I didn't press. Nasira, however,
reacted differently. I could feel her tension, her disbelief,
muttering under her breath, "No... it can't be. She's... his
daughter? Impossible." I caught a fragment of it but
dismissed it as my own mind playing tricks on me, and so,
with hesitation weighing every step, I followed Sarah out
into the uncertain world, the shadow of Nasira trailing
close behind. Sarah's garden was a haven, a sanctuary
carved from the chaos of the world. The air was crisp,
tinged with the scent of fallen leaves and distant blossoms.
Trees stood in solemn rows, their branches reaching
toward the sky in a final autumnal salute, their leaves a
tapestry of amber and gold, gently cascading to the ground
in the soft breeze. At the center of it all was a wooden
bench beneath a hexagonal roof, its frame sturdy yet
delicate, draped in climbing ivy. Above, the browned leaves
danced down slowly, blanketing the roof in a natural
mosaic. The scent of earth and faint floral undertones
mingled, calming the mind, soothing the soul. I sat on that
bench, its wood cool against my palms. My gaze wandered,
absorbing every detail of the serene landscape. It was
peaceful, almost too peaceful for the storm that brewed
within me. Then, from the corner of my eye, I caught sight
of Nasira. She stood at a distance, her trident
in hand, her face a portrait of sorrow. Her eyes, usually
fierce and unwavering, now seemed weighted with
sadness, her shoulders heavy with the burden of my
suffering. I opened my mouth to speak, to call out to her,
but before the words could form, Sarah returned. She
carried a bowl of fresh fruit and set it gently on the
wooden table before us. The mundane act was imbued
with a quiet grace that only she could command. "So," she
said, her voice light, though her eyes searched mine with
quiet concern. "Why don't you take off that mask and go
ahead?" I stiffened, instinctively pulling my coat tighter. "I
don't feel good about that," I murmured, my voice low,
almost pleading. She frowned slightly but didn't press
immediately. Instead, she leaned closer, her gaze soft and
disarming. "Adam," she said, her voice a soothing melody,
"you don't have to hide from me. I don't care what you
look like. You're still you." Her hand reached out, tentative
but deliberate, moving toward my mask. I recoiled,
shaking my head. "Please," I whispered, my voice cracking,
"don't." Sarah pulled back slightly, her expression shifting
to one of deep empathy. "You can trust me," she said
gently, her tone imbued with a quiet resolve that made it
impossible to doubt her. "You're not alone in this.
Whatever it is, you don't have to carry it by yourself.
Please, let me help." Her words, spoken in that hypnotic,
soothing tone, left me no room to refuse.
My hands trembled as I reached up, removing my top hat
first. Her eyes immediately caught the vertical line that ran
down my forehead. Her gaze was steady, unflinching. Next, I
removed my sunglasses, but my eyelids remained tightly
shut, refusing to reveal the empty, pale orbs beneath. She
noticed the pointed, elf-like ears and the ghastly pallor of my
skin. I froze. My breath hitched, and my heart pounded in my
chest. I couldn't go on. My hands fell to my lap, shaking
violently. "I can't..." I muttered. But Sarah reached out once
more, her hands steady, unafraid. Gently, she lifted the edge
of the mask and pulled it away, revealing the grotesque lines
and seams of my face. The vertical scar continued down to my
jawline, marking where my face could split apart. The faint
horizontal lines that crossed my cheeks and chin hinted at the
monstrous maw beneath. Finally, I opened my eyes, milky
white, devoid of pupils, lifeless and cold. Silence. I braced
myself for the inevitable gasp, the scream, the recoil of horror.
Instead, I felt her hands, warm and soft, cradling my face. She
tilted my head gently, her fingers tracing every scar, every
seam with the care of a painter studying their canvas. Her
touch was electric, yet grounding. I felt every nerve come
alive beneath her fingertips. Her hands were light but firm,
moving over my face with an almost reverent curiosity. She
wasn't horrified. She wasn't disgusted. She was... curious,
thoughtful. Her examination was thorough but unintrusive,
her hands radiating warmth that seeped through my cold,
pallid skin. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I
wasn't ashamed of what I was.
"They've been looking for you everywhere," she said softly,
her fingers lingering on the ridges where my jaw could split.
Her tone remained calm, almost clinical, but there was a hint
of something deeper—sadness, perhaps. "Did you... eat those
thugs from last night?" Her words struck me like a blade. The
shame I had buried deep surged to the surface. My eyes
burned as I felt the tears begin to form, red and thick, trailing
down my cheeks like rivers of blood. I turned away, covering
my face with trembling hands. "I'm a monster, Sarah," I
choked out, my voice breaking. "A wild animal. There's no
fixing this. My life... it's a curse. I don't want this. I just... I just
want it to end." The weight of everything, the loss, the pain,
the constant fight against my own nature, and my awful life,
was too much. The tears came freely now, and for the first
time in years, I let them. I let the anguish pour out, each sob
tearing through me like a beast clawing at my chest. Nasira
stood in the distance, her face a mirror of my pain, but she
remained silent, unwilling to intrude on this fragile moment.
Then, unexpectedly, Sarah leaned in and wrapped her arms
around me. Her embrace was gentle but firm, her warmth
enveloping me completely. It wasn't just a hug; it was a
lifeline, a connection that reached into the very depths of my
despair. I felt her heartbeat against mine, steady and calming,
her presence anchoring me in a sea of chaos. Her scent, a
delicate blend of jasmine and rain, filled my senses,
grounding me in the present. Her hands rubbed soothing
circles on my back, and her voice, soft and melodic, whispered
in my ear.
"You're not alone, Adam," she said, her tone like a lullaby
meant to soothe even the most restless soul. "You're not a
monster. You're someone who's been hurt, who's been
through things no one should ever face. But you're still here.
You're still fighting. And that means something." Her words
seeped into the cracks of my broken soul, filling the void with
a warmth I hadn't felt in years. I hesitated for a moment, then
slowly wrapped my arms around her, holding her tightly as if
letting go would mean falling into the abyss again. "Thank
you," I whispered, my voice raw but sincere. "Thank you for
not turning away." She pulled back slightly, her hands still
resting on my shoulders, her eyes meeting mine with
unwavering determination. "I'm here," she said simply. "And
I'm not going anywhere." As the weight began to lift, I glanced
around, my heart sinking when I realized Nasira was gone.
Worry gnawed at the edges of my mind. "Are you looking for
something?" Sarah asked, her tone gentle but curious. I
hesitated, then shook my head. "No," I lied, though my
thoughts remained on Nasira. Something wasn't right, and I
couldn't shake the feeling that I had lost something vital. But
for now, I let myself exist in this moment, held by Sarah's
unwavering presence, as the garden's peace wrapped around
us like a warm autumn embrace.