Quiet

She cared about him, but she never let him know.  She cared about all of them, really.  Even the ones she was always yelling at.  Especially the ones she was always yelling at.  A commander had to be harsh, mean.  If she wasn't, they all would have died.  Well, they all would have died much sooner.

It wasn't fair, not even remotely, that she was the only one still alive.  She would have died for all of them, for any of them.  But a commander's job wasn't to lay her life down for her men.  The job of her men was to lay their lives down for her.

A tear, a single drop, that's all she was allowed, all she would allow herself.  The red rose she let slip from her hand.  A torn pricked her on its way down.  Her body noticed, but she didn't.  A single drop of blood, that was all it allowed her in way of physical suffering.  The mental anguish was overwhelming.

A commander must be strong and brave.  And a commander must always be ready to train new troops.  Hers were coming tomorrow.  A week to mourn, that was more than enough.

The wind blew her auburn hair across her face.  It had been so long since she had felt the wind.  In another life time, she had enjoyed it.  As she closed her eyes and tried to savor it once more, she let another tear slip.  That was two, double her quota.  If she allowed herself any more, she knew she would be lost.

She opened her eyes again, bright blue eyes sparkling with sadness, and looked down.  The dirt was fresh, but she could already see tiny sprouts starting to poke up out of it.  Her rose had blown up against the tombstone in the wind.  There was no name on the tombstone, just a single star to signify that this man had died a brave death.  Or at least to signify that the man represented by this little plot of dirt had died a brave death.  There was no man anymore.  The manner of his death had robbed her not only of his soul, but of his body as well.  All that was buried here was what little he had left behind:  his clothes, his books, and the remainder of his rations from the day he had died.  The contents of a dead man's locker were bad luck to keep aboard a ship, or even to return to his loved ones who might like to have them.

She blinked a third tear away and pretended it hadn't happened, that none of it had happened.  She looked away from the rose and glanced around to the other graves.  Thirteen in all.  A lucky number.  That's the reason there were 13 in a crew, and one commander, to unite them.  Luck had done nothing for them that day, and their commander had done even less.

She turned away, folded her hands respectfully in front of her, and walked away.  She was glad no one had been there to see.  She felt awkward in the dress, but somehow liberated, too.  For a day, for just one day, sad a day as it was, she didn't have to be a commander.  She knew she needed that.

As she walked down the hillside, she refused to look back.  She knew they deserved another look, one final and absolute good-bye, but she couldn't give it to them, not yet.  If she tried, she was sure she would see their faces and hear their shouts all over again, shouts not of fear or of despair, but shouts of determination, devoted to seeing the mission threw until the end, the very end.  That's what had earned them those stars.  Those simple graven stars that meant so much to you when you were alive and nothing to anyone when you were dead.

Inhale, exhale.  It was quite out here.  Most people feared the dead, even the thought of them, even others in the military, but Ella wasn't afraid, not anymore.  She loved the dead, and the thought of joining them had some mystical appeal to her now.  Death was only scary, she thought, if no one you loved had died.

The wind blew her hair again, this time out of her face, and she continued to stare on ahead as she walked down the path.  It was the dust it blew into her eyes that caused the next few tears to come.  It wasn't the sadness.  She couldn't let herself believe it was the sadness.  The time for mourning was nearly past.  Tomorrow her new crew would be looking to her.  She was respected and brave and true.  She hadn't backed down from the mission despite impending doom, and she had inspired her crew to do the same.  

That was what had earned her her star, the one she got to wear in life, just like the one her men got to wear in death.  She hadn't realized she had been reaching up to touch it until she felt its shape beneath her fingers.  It was cold and shallow and empty, but it was what all commanders dreamed of earning, at least until they stood where Ella stood and realized the surest way to get one was to sacrifice your entire crew to achieve the impossible and come out on the other side still standing.

The wind had died down now so there was no more reason to cry.  It was quiet, still now.  As she got to her car, she opened the back door, sat down, and closed her eyes.  When the computer asked her where she wanted to go, she just said, "Home" and when it asked what music to play, she said "None."

The time for mourning was done, but at least she could enjoy a few more hours of quiet, for her, for her men, for, well, just for them really.  There was no one else that mattered.  Not yet.

Tomorrow would be different.  A brand new day.  But for this day, for what of it was left to her, all she felt the right to have was the quiet.

Regrets

What would be my biggest regret?

Might it be that I didn't work hard enough at my job or that I didn't make enough money?
Could it be that I didn't see enough of the world, travel to enough far off lands?
Would it be that I didn't win enough games or contests or prizes?
Might it be that I didn't spend enough time reading great novels?
Could it be that I didn't exercise enough or eat healthy enough?
Would it be that I didn't prove myself sufficiently intelligent?
Might it be that I spent too much time at my job or at trying to prove myself?

If the following came to be, it would be none of these measly things.
If on the day you die, you stand before God and wonder why I never told you He was real, that would be my greatest regret of all.
That you could know God's love, yet never did, and never would for all of eternity, because I didn't tell you enough, that would be the greatest regret of all.

So let me tell you now:  God is real, and He loves you.  I can't "prove" it to you, but He can reveal it, and He will if you let Him.

"Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will never pass away" - Jesus (Matthew 24:35)

Know it, feel it, believe it.

Risk ridicule and shame to share it.

It's a Living

I shoot people for a living.  It's a good living.  If you'd see my fee, you might think it exorbitant, but you get what I pay for.  Few are as well trained or well prepared as I.  I'm very thorough.  I examine my sites very carefully and know my targets very well before going in, and if I do my job right, no one will even notice I was there.  Go second-rate and you're likely to end up with a mess on your hands.  The last thing you want is sloppy results from the professional you've hired to do what you can't very well do yourself.

Lots of preparations go into what I do, but when it comes down to the actual shooting, speed is of the utmost importance.  Both speed and patience, really.  You have to wait for that perfect shot, and then when it's there, you have to make sure you don't miss it.  I'm very good.  I almost never miss, but when I do, I'm quick to recover and try again.  You have to be.

As far as who I'll shoot, I'll really do whomever my clients ask me to.  Celebrities and dignitaries are not uncommon for someone of my calibre.  As far as personal requests, spouses are the most frequent.  Parents are probably next in line.  Of course there's children, too, though I still feel a little uncomfortable shooting them.  I much prefer adults, but the customer is always right, even if I warn them that it isn't my specialty.  I assure you, I'm always relieved when the kid jobs are over.  Some jobs just can't be done fast enough.  Yet, as I tell my clients, it will all be over before they know it.

One thing I always love about my job is the travel.  Granted, traveling all over the world is not required in my line of work, but I make sure to take jobs that take me to exotic places.  I don't even fully charge my clients for the travel expenses.  I just like to visit new places, take in the local color.  A shooting is much less stressful when I know that I can retire to a comfortable room with a jacuzzi afterwards, in a hotel where no one really knows who I am.

Overall, it's a great line of work.  It can be a little tedious at times, but that's when you just have to get creative.  My clients are always so happy with my work, and that makes it all worthwhile.  If you need some new pursuit, I'd recommend it, though you do need to make sure you have the right equipment.  No cheap junk for me, and you shouldn't settle for less than the best either, especially when it comes to tripods.  You definitely don't want those slipping at the wrong time.

So with the right equipment, the right training, and a little creative energy, maybe you'll be as good as I am some day.  Well, maybe not that good, but you might come close.  Just don't go stealing any of my clients, especially the lucrative repeat customers.  Though maybe the ones that ask me to shoot kids... those you can have.

Elizabeth Elaina

My name is Elizabeth Elaina Richardson.  My birthday is September 2.  I have two older brothers and come from a couple of struggling artists who gave up on the art and started teaching around the time they started having children.  My brothers love to paint and their paintings are always the topic of much conversation.

My parents were born in Minnesota, but now we live in Kansas where it is much warmer, comparatively speaking.  We live in a cute little two story home with two beds and two baths.  It's blue.  My eyes are also blue and my hair is somewhere between brown and blonde.

My parents like to play games, but they hardly have time for that anymore.  Sometimes they like to play games with me.  They try to include me as much as they possibly can.

Lots of people like my parents.  They have many friends.  I have lots of friends, too.  Some of my friends are my own age, but most of them are quite a bit older.  In fact, I'm friends with lots of the same friends that my parents have.

In addition to my close family, I have four aunts, three uncles, and six cousins.  My family is always smiling a lot.  In fact, its hard to find evidence that they ever don't smile.  They get very excited about many things.

My parents are fans of television and various specific television shows, movies and various specific movies, and, of course, art and various specific artists.  I am a fan of public broadcasting, eating, dirt, and art, among other things.  My parents seem to think it is very cute that I am a fan of dirt.

My parents think lots of other things are cute, too, such as the way I sleep, the way I stare at them, the way my brothers race in circles around me while I watch them.  Lots of people like the things that my parents find cute about me.  In fact, more people like stuff about me than they do stuff just about my parents, even people who aren't even my friends!

Of course, I don't really understand any of it.  I'm just a baby, after all, and Facebook knows more about me than I will know about myself for many years to come.

Out There

Who am I to them?
An anonymous outcry?
Voice lost on the wind?

I put it out there.
No one listens, no one hears.
Words are simply words.

If I'm eloquent,
will they listen to me then?
If words paint pictures?

Out there all alone.
Darkness erases the light.
All candles snuffed out.

Too many words here.
Too much I want to say here.
Yet nothing I say.

There is no substance.
I cannot speak like they can.
My message is lost.

Yet somewhere out there,
I know that somebody hears
what I try to say.

It's really not hard.
I just want a better world.
But I can't say it.

I try to say it.
They take my words and twist them.
They just want pictures.

I've gone on too long.
It's someone else's turn now.
Say what I mean to.

I put it out there,
but I fail to say it well,
so none understand.

What I try to say
matters more than anything
say it for me please.

Invincible

A boy and a girl on a mountain, looking out over a vast green forest.  Twilight.  Soft, still, calm.

He speaks first.

"We think we're so young, so invincible."

"We are young."

"Yes, we are young, but not invincible."

They stand in silence for a moment, looking out over the tree tops in the last light of day.

She ponders.

"How long do crickets live?"

"I don't know, but not forever.  Nothing lasts forever."

"What about those trees?  They've been there practically forever."

A bit of a grunt.  "Those trees haven't even been there close to forever."

Frowning.  "Well, it might as well be forever as far as we're concerned."

A smirk, softening to a smile.  "Yeah, well, I suppose you're right."

She steps closer and he takes her hand.  She looks up at him and smiles.

"Can love last forever?"

He rubs the back of her hand tenderly, looking down at it.  "If anything could, love would."

"But you don't think even that can last?"

A shrug.  "It's fragile.  It may ultimately endure, but it gets cracked a lot along the way."

A playful snort.  "Trying to sound poetic or something?"

Another shrug.  "I do my best."

Smiles.

She looks up at the stars.

"I wonder how close we've come to finding them all."

"Not even."

She lets go of his hand and sits.  He sits beside her.

She shivers a little and he puts his arm around her.

"Cold?"

"A little."

Again with the silence.  Crickets chirp.  The first owl of the night hoots in the distance.

"We aren't going back down tonight."

"I know."

She sighs deeply.  A tear slips down her face, unnoticed in the twilight.

"I loved her, you know."  Her voice cracks.

He sighs and frowns.  "Everyone did."

He turns to him.  "Tell me something about her, something I didn't already know."

He manages a smile as he turns to look at her.  He runs his fingers through her hair.  "Not tonight.  I don't think I can."

She puts her hand on his knee.  That owl hoots again.  "I love you," she says.

"I love you, too."

The light is almost gone.  Darkness is making its way across the land.

"We think we're so young, so invincible."

She cuddles close and he holds her tight.  As she starts to cry, he lets himself cry, too.  As the crickets grow louder and drown out what's left of the silence, there's nothing else to say.

Relationship

Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, gasping for breath.  I look at the man lying next to me, the human being who is supposed to comfort and reassure me, and I just want to run.  It's like I don't know why I'm here, why I ever came here, nor why I stayed.  I feel trapped and I just want to get out. But then I remind myself that's crazy.  I'm here because I love him, and he loves me.  All these dreams of monsters and demons and being forced to become something you aren't... it's nonsense.  You can't force another person to love you, no matter how hard you try.  I love him because I love him, not because he's making me love him.

But still, just in case, I felt like I had to write this down, just in case... just in case it turns out to be true after all, I want someone to know that I suspected, that I wasn't totally fooled.

---

Darren is an amazing man.  The week we met and started dating seems like a blur.  There was a convention and a hotel bar and then a hotel room and that's about all I remember.  By the end of it, though, we were deeply in love.  Well, maybe "deeply" isn't quite the right word, more like passionately or madly.

Some would simply call it lust, but its more than that.  I feel a connection with him that I've never felt with anyone else.  I can't really explain it, but the closest I can come is to say that it feels like he's inside my head, like its a part of me.  He knows just want I want before I even realize I want it, and he always gives it to me. No one is that selfless, so I guess it must just be that we always want the same things.  Like I said, it's like he's apart of me, sometimes it's almost like we're the same person.  It's amazing; I hope everyone gets to experience it at least once in their lives; and I never want to leave.

---

I woke up alone last night.  I mean, Darren wasn't there, even though he's always there.  I felt a panic sweep over me like I never had before.  I didn't even throw on my slippers before I rushed out into the living room to see him staring out the window, watching the white snow gently fall.  It was all so surreal.

"That's what it will feel like," he said, slowly turning to face me, his gorgeous brown eyes connecting with mine.  "If you ever leave me, that's what it will feel like all the time."

I nodded as I caught my breath, and just as I was about to start crying he smiled at me and I knew everything was going to be okay.

"Let's go back to bed," he said, and I nodded and led the way.

I know now that I can't live without Darren.  No matter what doubts I might have, there is no one else for me.

---

We had a visitor today.  Well, not really a visitor as much as a delivery person, a girl, barely old enough to drive I would have thought.  She was delivering some new clothes Darren had bought for me online.  I picked some out and he picked some out, but we both wanted me to wear the same things anyway.  It's so cute how that always happens.

But it was the strangest thing:  Darren, when he was signing for the box, I could have sworn I saw him look at that girl and lick his lips, not in a suggestive sexual way (I know he would never cheat on me), but like he was hungry.  She wasn't a pizza delivery girl.  Why would she make him think of food?

It was almost nothing, and I forgot it as soon as he turned to me and gave me my new clothes, but I'm remembering it now, and I don't know why.  Maybe I should just ask him about it, but somehow I don't think that would be wise.  I know its nothing, but somehow it was strange.  Sometimes I think I might be going crazy and these little bits of myself that I write out from time to time are just meant to document my fall into insanity.

---

Darren is always looking out for me.  We went out tonight, for the first time in what seems like forever, and this creepy guy was hitting on me.  Darren got him to back off fast.  I think the guy might even be scared of him.  I couldn't help but smile a little at the thought of anyone being scared of Darren.  He would never hurt anyone.

But this guy at the bar was really weird.  He came up to me while Darren was at the bar getting our drinks and with this really bizarre look of what I think was supposed to be concern on his face asked if I was okay. Who does that, just walks up to a girl and asks if she's okay?  It was really weird.  Luckily, Darren got back before the guy could say much more than that I looked a little woozy or weak or something.  I don't really know what he said.  It was all so bizarre.  I'm just glad Darren was there to tell the guy to back off.  I'm not really good at defending myself.

I'm so glad Darren is around to defend me.  I see now, too, why he hates taking me out so much.  The world is a mess out there.  I just want to stay where it's safe and warm, in Darren's arms.  I don't need anything else.

---

I woke up last night, thinking I heard screaming.  Darren was gone again, the second time ever that I've woken up and he hasn't been there, and I started to feel panic steal up into my body again, but then he walked through the door.  The lights were on in the hallway behind him and he almost looked like an angel.

"It's okay, sweetie," he said, though he sounded a little sad, "go back to sleep."

I nodded and did as he said, but as I was drifting off, I thought how stressful work must be getting for him.  I really wish he would let me get a job, but he wants to be the provider and who am I to refuse.  But yes, it must be getting very stressful for him.  He clearly couldn't sleep either, and I think he had been up having a glass of wine to help calm his nerves.  I thought I saw something red on his lips when he was standing in the doorway.

---

I found the strangest thing today.  I was cleaning out the closet and I found a box full of love letters addressed to Darren.  At first my heart sank in my chest.  I just couldn't believe he had been cheating on me.  We were so in love, it was impossible even to fathom.  But then I looked at the dates on the letters; they were almost 100 years old.

I asked Darren about it when he got home, as I was feeling a bit curious, even though it didn't really matter and it was really none of my business.  He seemed a bit taken aback at first, but then he smiled.  "Those were letters my great-grandmother wrote to my great-grandfather," he explained.  "After they both died, the letters were left to my father and when my father died, he left them to me."

I nodded, still not sure why he cared enough to keep them in the apartment, but not enough to share them with me, but I suppose I was just being silly about that.  Darren shares plenty with me, I can't expect him to share every little thing, and I know he's just a sentimental guy.  "We'll they're very sweet," I said.  "Very... authentic."

I almost thought Darren was going to cry, I thought I saw a tear about to form as he says, "Yes, she was a very sweet woman."

I almost ask if he ever met her, but I'm quite sure he didn't.  I remember Darren told me his father died a long time ago, when Darren was very young, and if his great-grand parents died even before that, I'm sure Darren never knew them.  Someone must have told him about them for him to react to their memory, a memory he doesn't even have himself, like that.  Darren has a great sentimental heart.  I love him so much for it.

---

I hesitate to admit it, but I must:  I'm getting a little bit scared now.  I would think I'm going crazy, but I have to believe I'm not.  The man from the bar a few weeks back, I keep seeing him from my window, outside across the street.  I told Darren, and I had never seen him get so angry.  I know Darren would never hurt anyone, but I can't help but fear, just a little bit, that his love for me might drive him to do something drastic.

---

I don't know why I was so worried.  I watched the whole thing happen, and I'm so glad I did, for it truly put my mind at ease.  I saw the man again, this time with Darren at home, and when I mentioned it, Darren rushed to the door.  "Please," I called out after him, "Don't hurt him!"

Darren looked back at me with a look of pain himself.  "You know I won't do that," he said in his sweetest most reassuring voice, the one that always puts my heart at ease.  "You don't ever have to doubt me."

Still, a part of me was scared, and I watched from the window.  But all they did was talk.  The strange man seemed a little uneasy, and he glanced up towards me a time or two, which made me gasp, but all they did was talk.  Darren never even touched him, and the man just turned and walked away.

I rushed to the door, waiting for Darren to come back in, and as if he could read my mind, my desire to know what happened (which I guess is natural to assume I would ask), he told me, "I reasoned with him, and promised that if he ever comes near you again, I'll get a restraining order."

I smiled.  Harsh but fair.  Just like my Darren.  We curled up on the couch and watched a movie and ate some popcorn.  I must have drifted off and Darren carried me to bed because I woke up a short while ago lying next to him, warm and content, though still feeling a little tired.  I just wanted to write down what a great thing he did for me today so I don't forget about it later.  I seem to be getting more and more forgetful these days.

---

Nothing much of interest has happened lately.  I am happy and well.  Darren seems less stressed about work and comes home often with a smile on his face.  I'd like to think it's a combination of things looking up at the office and his being so glad to see me.  I do have to admit, though, I am getting a little more lonely and bored at home all day.  I am really considering asking if I might start looking for a job.  I know we don't need the money, but I'd really like to have something to do, and, I'm almost ashamed to say it, to get out of this apartment more than once or twice a month.

---

I had the strangest dream last night.  I was running down a dark alleyway, running from something, I don't know what, just some dark figure running or maybe even flying after me.  I hit a dead end, and then suddenly he was there, the man from the bar and from outside my window.  He grabbed me by the arms and I nearly screamed, but somehow, in my warped dream world, I felt comfort in the way he grabbed me.  "It's okay," the dream stalker said, "I just want to help you.  I want to set you free."

And then, from behind me, I heard a cross between a growl and a roar.  When I turned, I saw a beast before me, black and harsh and harry with great fangs, some strange cross between a bat and a wolf and a man, but the thing that startled me most of all, was that it seemed to have Darren's eyes.  Those eyes I loved so much were now staring down at me, angry and mean, like some sort of predator, a look I have never before seen in those beautiful, perfect eyes.

The stalker protector man jumped in front of me and shouted, "You can't have her!"  And when the beast snarled at him, he shouted all the louder, "You can't have her!"

And then I woke up screaming, and gasping for breath.  Darren instantly sat up next to me and assured me it was just a bad dream.  As I hugged him, and told him between my pants and sobs about how the monster had been so horrific but had his eyes (I shouldn't have told him that, but I did), I felt him hold me even tighter.  "It was just a dream," he said, almost sounding angry.

I pulled away and wiped my eyes.  "I'm so sorry," I said.

But then he softened and smiled at me.  "Hey, baby," he said, wiping a tear from my face himself.  "It was just a dream.  It's okay.  I know it doesn't mean anything.  It's not your fault."

I nodded, looking into his eyes, soft and gentle and full of love.  And then for a split second, so brief a time I'm not even sure it happened, I saw in his eyes a flash of what I had seen in the dream, and I gasped.

"What is it, baby?" he asked with a frown.

I shook my head.  If he really was angry, I didn't want to give him any further reason to be.  "Nothing," I assured him.  "I just want to go back to sleep."

He nodded and helped me get settled back in, but as he wrapped his arms around me, I couldn't help but feel a little uneasy and a part of me, just a very small part, almost wished that the stalker man would appear to me again once I drifted off to sleep.

---

Life is wonderful and full of surprises!  I had planned to ask Darren about getting a job today, but instead, oh I just can't build up to it, I just have to say it... He asked me to marry him!  It was all such a blur.  I had been pacing around the apartment trying to figure out how to bring up such a delicate subject as employment with him and he came home and I was about to speak but then he just started beaming and the next thing I knew he was down on one knee with a ring asking me to marry him and saying how much he loved me and of course I said yes.  We've been together so long, part of me thought this was never really going to happen, but I'm so happy now that it has and I see it was all worth the wait and now I just can hardly wait to really be his wife!  He had catalogs too, piles of them, and websites, so I can look for my dress without even having to leave the apartment!  He's so wonderful and thoughtful and I had completely forgotten about the job until now that I am writing it down, but who needs a job now that I'm going to be marrying the most wonderful man who ever lived?!  I couldn't be any happier!!!

---

I know I should be happy and filled with joy, but after those first few days, somehow the joy seemed to fade.  I'm still thrilled that I'm marrying Darren; I couldn't ask for a better man, but somehow pouring over all the catalogs sitting here alone just isn't what I was expecting in terms of wedding preparations.  I expected to be calling my family, my friends, gushing about how happy I was, taking them out to look at dresses with me.  Do I even have friends anymore?  It seems like so long since I've talked to any of them.  And family... my mother lives just a few miles away, but I haven't gone to see her in months, maybe even a year.

But that can't be right.  I know we spent Christmas with my family.  We must have.  What else would we have done?  We certainly didn't just stay here alone... Oh God, what's happening to me?  What's happening to my life?  I have to get out, take a walk, get some fresh air.  I know Darren doesn't like it when I go out without telling him, but if I tell him, he'll tell me not to go, and I have to.  I really have to.  I promise I'll come right back, I just need some air.

---

I took my journal with me and went to the park.  Everything is so familiar yet so strange.  The sun almost hurts my eyes its so bright, but I'm feeling much better now.  Fresh air really does the body good.  I'm starting to feel my head clear so I can really think, for the first time in I don't even know how long.  But wait, I think I see someone I know jogging this way.

---

It was him:  the man from the bar, the man from the street, the man from my dreams.  I know him, I mean, I know him better than I realized.  He had been around before.  In fact, I think he might have been Darren's friend.  It's so strange that I wouldn't have recognized him, and that Darren would treat him like he did, like a stranger.  He actually seems quite kind, and I felt strangely at ease around him, though I'm still a little fuzzy on why he was stalking me.  He tried to explain just now, said Darren was no good for me, that I needed to get out.  But it's just all so jumbled in my mind.  The memories, the clear memories, I had of this man were of someone creepy watching me, stalking me, but somewhere underneath, there are other memories.  Being near him seemed to draw them out, but I don't know what to believe, what to trust.  Could this man really be tricking me?  But then the strangest thing... he looked at my journal, this one I'm writing in now, and asked me to read it.  Just read what I had written.  Strange thing to ask, but he said that I should read my own words and if I still wanted to be with Darren, then be with Darren, but if I wanted to get out, he would help me.  He would be back in two hours for my choice.

I know I should run home, but I have such a jumble going on in my mind that I can't make sense of it all.  I think... I think I might actually do what this man, Michael is his name, requested of me.


---

My God.  I don't know why I didn't see before.  I was about to marry a monster.

---

There was no point in going back.  I was too scared of seeing Darren again.  I cried and I cried, but Michael held me and told me it was going to be okay.  I remembered now, remembered so much.  Michael had tried to help me before, but Darren hadn't let him.  Darren was so possessive and wanted me all for himself.  Michael wasn't trying to steal me away, he was just trying to help me be free, and now, I was finally ready to let him.  We're on the run now.  I wanted to call the police, but Michael thought that would be a very bad idea.  It would be better if I just left, disappeared for a while.  He would let me know when it was safe to come back, to see my friends and family again, without Darren looming over me.  For the first time in a long time, I finally feel like I'm going to be free.

---

If anyone ever finds this journal, I want you to know it isn't the full story.  There were passages, entire pages, months of entries ripped out and destroyed.  I know they were terrible, awful entries and I can't bring myself to draw them back to mind to re-write them now.  Suffice to say, they were the entries that led me so fully to the truth of what Darren really is.

I'm hiding from him now, in this dingy warehouse.  It's so dark I can barely even see what I'm writing so I hope someone can make sense of it.

Michael is dead.  At least I think he must be.  I saw Darren hunting after him with some sort of wooden knife in his hand, and I heard Michael scream, but when I worked up enough courage to go back and look where he had been, I saw nothing.  Now I'm just waiting for my turn to come.  For Darren to come and get me and end it all, at least I hope with all of my still beating heart that he'll be merciful enough to just end it all.

Wait, I think he's drawing near.  These might be the last words I ever write.  Tell my mother I love her, and if by some miracle Michael is still alive, tell him I know that he tried and that... that I loved him too.

---

I believe in miracles.  God how I believe in miracles.  I was so certain Darren was going to kill me.  I heard him approaching, even saw his boots, but then, then he just fell to his knees, I saw his knees and his hands and the knife he had rolling out of his grip.  "I'm so sorry," I heard him sob.  "I'm so sorry.  I failed you, Angela, I know I did."

Angela.  It was the name from the letters I found.  His great-grandfather's love.  No.  No that's wrong.  It was his love, I know now.  The only one he ever truly loved.

"Go!"  I heard him shout.  "Just go, leave!  Never come back!"

I didn't hesitate.  If he was going to kill me even now, he was going to do it no matter what I did, and this was my only chance to escape.  So I got up out of my hiding spot and ran, full speed, for the car.  I only glanced back once when I heard him stop sobbing to see him pick up the knife and flip it around to point it towards himself.

I don't know if he really did it, really ended himself.  I don't even know if he really ended Michael.  I'm not sure if he could.  I don't really want to know all the truth quite yet.  I don't want you to know either.  That's why I'm done.  I mean, I'm done with this journal.  I'm not writing anymore.  After I finish this entry, I'm throwing it out into this field.  Part of me wants someone to find it, and part of me doesn't, so the best thing to do seems to leave it up to chance or fate or whatever may be.

The last thing I want you to know is that you ever have doubts about the relationship you're in, any relationship you're in, listen to them.  They're not likely to be as, well, supernaturally masked as mine were, but listen to your heart, your true heart.  And if you're unable to bring up your concerns and fears and doubts with the one you love, maybe your love isn't real love and your "relationship" is nothing more than dust on the wind.