One girl was able to straighten my path. One smile was able to motivate me to do even the most tedious of jobs. One sentence opened my eyes and showed me that life is beautiful. One hour and only joy could be found running through my veins. One life, shouldn't be sacrificed for others.
Our meeting wasn't one of the most striking, but it was faith, really. There was a time before the me today when streets were cold and the sun was dark. People were corrupt and blessings were scarce. Broken and beaten, I walked among the ruins and waste, my vision blurry due to overdosing. Although murky, a fine-tuned arrangement of notes lured me across the river of red, the hills of corpses and the plain of void to a place where wishes come true. The church.
She, much like an angel from heaven, sat there, her nimble fingers jumping from black to white in a beautiful harmony; "The Resonance of Life" was her answer when I asked the title later on. She seemed to notice this unworthy being trying to step onto the air of salvation, but sitting still as if such presence was welcomed and accepted. Enfeebled by starvation and side effects, I surged all that was left in me to sit on a bench before consciousness was drawn away from me.
The next time I opened my eyes, everything was basically angels playing happily among the clouds; warm and glorious, oh how comfortable being there was. 'So this is heaven,' I thought to myself, before a clear, alluring voice exclaimed the obvious. She didn't look like a sister, nor did she act like one, but for me she was the only one that brought me to my safe haven.
She acted so friendly and kind I didn't know what to do. People frame me and squeeze whatever little money I had left. People put that big fake smile and say that everything's alright as they plan to ditch me to the downtrodden. People say 'Believe in Him, and you'll find a way' as they perfected their concealed sin. In that case, she was truly an angel; nothing like the creature of this world.
She said I was funny because I failed to respond to her. My vision was still wounded, but my auditory sense were somehow better, and I heard a laughter. The most beautiful of laughter. It was gentle, sincere, friendly, as if it was the true symbol of joy and glory. She said that there would be no problem about food: the church had tonnes of canned food supply for whatever reason. She said that there will be no problem for a personal space: she was alone the whole time, in the castle of divination that should be full of praises for Him. She said that I need to be rescued, and thus she took me in.
I thought a church should be bathed in glee and wonders; ours was painted in agony and suffered from abandonment that it was a miracle how the grand piano could still produce a sound music. In this cold, closed space she lived, clinging only to her faith in Him, or so she explained. And that faith, that faith was the only essence that fed me, fed my indescribable hunger of something abstract that my mind had yet to comprehend. Little by little my turbid soul began to recognize the presence of the one savior; His mercy, His love, His greatness, His sacrifice. She guided me with passion, much like a little child persisting that her parents should come to see something that she found amazing.
One of those days I suffered from my sin; not taking my usual dose of drugs began to take its toll, chipping every sign of health in me. I was a monster: lifeless in appearance, but charging in rage at every little thing, going berserk without particular reason. And she, her voice was once again there to save me; the voice of comfort that didn’t give up even after I hurt her. The next thing I remembered after the hazy memories of being a demon, was blood oozing out from her mouth and bruises all over her pretty face. She accepted an apology I never made.
Nobody said it was easy to take a sharp turn, but when you’re turning to him it was never impossible either. Day by day I was receiving surge of knowledge and blessings of Him, and before long I was content enough to consider myself blessed and forgiven. The only concern was that she, she was pale. However white an angel’s skin could be, hers was getting worse than simply being pale. That was the only question she refused to answer.
It was under the beautiful moonlight, in the graveyard just before our church. It was appalling; piles of premature burial painting the left side of the church, and on the right was river of blood, polluted and merciless, yet in the middle of all bane was our church, and no ordinary church at that. It was old, it was dirty, and it was rejected. People wanted it deconstructed, destroyed, cast away from the surface of earth, for a vastly developing country was in dire need of more land for industry. We were given warning that the church was to be brought down in a week.
She was stressed. She was pale, and maybe all those accumulated was too much even for her to bear. She then cried in my arms, before pushing me to the wall, her eyes paralyzing my entire self. She said she won’t give up on Him. She said she would always believe; that her faith was as eternal as His promise. However, just for that night, when she hit her lowest point and was vulnerable to anything, that she finally showed her fangs. I was ready.
But she didn’t do it.
She was amazing to suppress all her desires, clinging only on Him whenever the inhumane impulse kicked in. The will was so strong that she eventually forget what she really was, and a creature abandoning her weakness was pretty much a higher being. She was afraid that she would return to be one she had been once, should she give in that time. All I could do was to tell her we would persevere together.
It was a time when I wished the sun would never rise, for each day passing was another day of the church’s lifespan decreasing. And she was, she really was, pale as if dying. Well, she admitted that she was. It pained me that she refused to let me help her, after all she had done to me. After being saved, all I could do was watch as the fated day was drawing near and her time was almost up. We prayed.
I could only kiss her cold forehead, while she barely tried to live on as much as she could. She saved me from the darkest of times, but now I turned my back to her scarred, lonely self. So here I tell you the story, of a vampire dying for her faith.
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