I Did Know This- Every Second I

He Was Giving Up On Keeping Me Alive, Letting Nature–or Rather Mob Justice–take Its Course. When He Returned, And I Was Dead, He Wouldn't Hold Anyone Responsible. He Would Not Mourn. All This I Could Hear In Those Three Words.

But Never In The Four Hundred Years Now Since I Was Born, Have I Ever Seen Anything To Make Me Doubt Whether God Exists In Some Form Or The Other. Not Even The Reflection In The Mirror.

You Held Out Your Hand, And I Took It Without Stopping To Make Sense Of What I Was Doing. For The First Time In Almost A Century, I Felt Hope.

Good Luck Tended To Avoid Me.

I Took His Hand, And Suddely He Yanked Me―too Roughly―right Off The Bed So That I Thudded Against His Chest. "just In Case," He Muttered Against My Hair, Crushing Me In A Bear Hug That About To Broke My Ribs. "can't―breathe!" I Gasped.