Its raining. Hard. I try to run, but it's impossible in this weather. Panting, out of breath...I'm slowing down.
I catch a glimpse of him...stalking me like I'm a wounded deer. Is it too late to call a truce? A shadow and a corner keep me safe. Or so I thought. I feel his blade, cold upon my neck. I can feel him drawing it from one side to another. Its burning with such a ferocity that I half expect to be caught on fire even in this downpour.
What happened next surprised even me. I wanted to die, I wanted to swim into that outer darkness, I wanted to have every reason to hate him, but I couldn't. Into my neck he poured his own blood streaming from fresh wounds in his wrists. Call it a transfusion...call it insanity...call it whatever you like.
Me...I'll call it a miracle.
-Originally written May 14, 2007