Betrothed

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"The Dark Stranger"
© VeGirl 2014

Days have lost meaning when there is no sunrise or sunset to feast your eyes on. When there is no night or day, and nobody needs to sleep, days cease to exist.

Existence is a long stretch of time that is impossible to separate into minor parts.

Over the time that passes I feel that I more and more pull back into myself. My mood keeps changing back and forth in a way I have never experienced before, but I am under exceptional pressure in a way I can't remember ever having been under.

The more I can keep my mood in check, the more often I am allowed to leave my room and socialize with the other people living there. No, sorry; angels.

Everybody smiles respectfully, but their smiles never reach the eyes.

My highlight of the day is meeting Vincent. We are still not allowed to meet in public, or it could be the fact that we have a hard time keeping our hands off of each other and we really need to stay cloaked. In his quarters I am soon recognized and they smile friendly at me.

"Why can't my stuck up parents treat me with this kind of love. All they care about is respect."

"With the fear of sounding like I sympathize with them, they have spent their entire existence up here where everything has been done the same way for millenniums." Vincent has a sympathetic look on his face. "Cut them some slack."

"I'll cut them the exact slack they're cutting me; not a mill."

Vincent wraps his arms around me and all the anger simply run off of me. "My love; you are not petty. You must rise above all this to get out on the other side."

I pout my lips while my brows are pressed low enough to cast my eyes in shadows even in this bright place. "Why can't I just leave?"

"It will greatly benefit you to make up with your parents. Perhaps you can even make them understand your point of view."

"Yeah well, think again..."

"This place could need a good portion of passion."

"I couldn't agree more." My eyes seek out his talented lips. 'So don't let my parents keep us from passion one more second.'

'My naughty, naughty girl...'

* * *

Vincent is not allowed to stay for especially long at a time, but he has returned often and we have been practicing our internal communication skill. One day he simply stops answering.

I walk around inside my room calling him, and I patrol the hallways looking for him.

Finally I decide to seek out the authority and ask. "What have you done with Vincent?" My tone of voice mirror the irritation more than the worry. "I haven't seen him for several days." At least I think it is for days...

"He is not with us anymore."

My heart almost stops dead in my chest. "What...?" My voice cracks and my eyes fills with tears and I notice how my father looks strangely at me. "What have you done with him?" I squeak out."

"He left."

"What...?" My fear that he has been taken out of the equation makes my ears ring so loud that I can't really hear what he says. "He... left? So he's okay then?"

"I don't know..." He shrug his shoulders and walk away.

I nearly fall on my knees and cry over the fact that Vincent is okay. The relief over his safety quickly fades into grief over my own loss and tears fall down my cheeks. I'm not sure how I manage to find my way back to my room, but somehow I roll up in a ball on the bed and tears flows freely. He has left without saying goodbye?

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