The Window

He watched her in her deepest sleep as had become his ritual. Not his nightly sermon as he desired, oh no. There were always those nights when the blinds were drawn or she spent the night elsewhere, but tonight, tonight was a glorious night. His angel slumbered where she belonged.

That was what she was: an angel. She was gorgeous and beautiful, smart and ever so kind, and funny and pure. There was nothing she could not do. Se was sublime perfection.

He ran his thumb along his knife. The blade carved into his flesh and joyous crimson life gushed forth. The pain slid across his face as a smile. He bled for her. He made his sacrifice to the divine.

It was a travesty that she be made to suffer this mortal coil. It was already far too long. The ungrateful refuse of this town were spoiled by her presence. The were both unappreciative and unworthy. In truth, he would be doing them a favour as well. The teeming masses would only realize what they had once it was lost.

But he couldn't think about them. He had to keep his focus on her and only her, he was her only knight and prophet. There was no one else to serve her.

Her suffering would not last much longer. Soon their blood would become one and he and his angel would ascend to their rightful home. The day was close at hand now. He could feel it in the blood pooling at his feet. They would be one flesh for all eternity.

Gingerly he ran his hand along the glass of her window and spoke softly into the darkness. "Soon my beloved. Soon I shall release you from your torment. "

She turned in her sleep, beckoned by his call. He could see her face, her precious face. His blood boiled. It burned to be with her at last. He trembled and desperately clenched his fists to steel himself against desire. Just when he thought he could bare no more, she smiled. It was such a simple thing, but it spoke to him.

"I know your anguish," it said. "I love you. Please, free us from these bonds."

It soothed him and he regained his composure. He let all his tension go with a deep exhaling breath. He relaxed his hands and cradled his knife. It was his child, and soon would be their child.

"Not yet," he replied. "Not yet."