Iris

...the night you came into my room.

It was always dark, of course. Not the dark of the night, the stillness, the way nothing seemed to exist except for the beating of our hearts and the quiet sound of us taking breaths. It was dark in the way that a candle makes things dark, dim, not brilliant, but not blacked out either. My father had always told me those old candles were so much less efficient than the flourescent lights that had been stocked in stores recently, but I liked this sort of light more. The candlelight reflected off the bronze candle holder, making the entire room look a dim shade of sepia. And instead of the light coming from a cold, unfeeling lightbulb, it came from a tall candle, the wax dripping down into the bottom where it would be collected for cleaning. A bit old-fashioned, I suppose, but I tended to go for things that looked a little more worn out and rusty than the rest of them.

I had been reading a book when you came to see me. The spine was supported by my thin fingers and I had to put one hand on the back of it to see who it was when I heard the floorboards creak under your feet. As my eyes traveled over to you you shrank back as if you were ashamed to have come to my room, but when I didn't shout at you, I think you understood. That this was real, permanent, that I wasn't going to treat you like everyone else had treated you. So you took another step into the room.

"Hello, Kellin," I said quietly, working to put a smile in my voice. There had been only tears for what seemed like such a long time now but was not a long time at all. "Come in, sweetheart, it's alright."

So you did, and without hesitation. You climbed over me to snuggle into the blankets next to me, feeling your way along since you could only see smears of color, and when you were situated I made sure to get closer to you as well. The book was quickly forgotten as the two of us lay together, you with your too-big pajama shirt my father had given you and your boxers and bare legs, eight or so inches taller than I was so that my feet only touched to just below your knee. And then there was me in my more conservative nightgown, a pretty white thing, with lace all making up the back and a skirt that shimmered every time I moved. Another relic, as my father would describe it, but I didn't mind. I'd thought it was absolutely beautiful when I saw it and had to have it right away. You didn't seem to mind, either, although that could have been due to your blindness.

"What's the matter?" I asked, which was foolish, as both of us knew what was the matter.

You took a deep, shaking breath. Your milky eyes glistened with tears. "I don't want to go back."

I circled my arms around you, feeling the lump in my throat get bigger and bigger until I thought I might choke on it. How could anyone do this to you? How could any court system place you back in such a horrible setting? You wouldn't go to your previous owner, true, but who was to say you wouldn't be picked up by an even worse person? From what I'd heard, Red Light wasn't exactly the epitome of upstanding citizens. You had to be terrified.

"I know, sweetheart," I whispered into your hair, holding your head to my chest as you cried into my shoulder, thin, warm tears that soaked the blanket beneath. It broke my heart. You were quiet about it. I could hear the wet sounds your mouth made as you tried to breathe, and the way that your fingers grasped at my arms, trying to convey to me the helplessness you felt. You were trembling beneath me. The lump in my throat was so large that I couldn't even cry by now. I just blinked back pain.

When you were in a more coherent state, you said very quietly, but in a voice I'd never heard you use before, "I am finished with them."

Each word was pronounced clearly, each letter accentuated. If I'd been standing up I would have cocked my head. Instead, I said, "What do you mean?"

You removed your head from my shoulder and watched me with glistening eyes, tear tracks dried on your splotchy pink face. "Don't you see?" you asked, your voice hopeful, or maybe crazy, or possibly both. "They can't get away with doing this sort of thing. I'm not meant for this place. I don't want to go back there and I am not going to keep myself in a place where they can tell me what to do. It's not what's meant for me. I am destined for higher things."

I believed you, although you did sound a bit too confident for your own good. Yes, you didn't belong in Red Light, but no human being did. I was somewhat puzzled, but I kept it to myself. You didn't need to hear it. "Yes, you're right. I...I hope that goes well for you. I believe in you."

You were satisfied with that. However, I could tell in your eyes that you needed to hear something more. Maybe that I would be coming with you, or that you could do it no matter what...I'm not sure, all I know is that you needed something that I wasn't going to be able to give you. And that confused me more than anything else -- what more would you need than my show of support?

You slipped one hand beneath your shirt, sliding out a necklace I'd never even noticed before. You couldn't have come to me with it. You must have hidden it, then taken it out and put it on very recently. It was a glittering silver chain, although rusty in some places, and at the end was a black and silver cross with pointed ends, the main body in black, the outline in silver. It was only about four inches high but it was absolutely beautiful. You unclasped the back, feeling your way along the chain, and then slid it off, handing it to me.

"I want you to have it," you said.

I breathed in. "No, it's beautiful. Where did you get it? I won't take it."

You shook your head and pressed a finger to my lips, off to the side, but it was close and I wasn't going to make fun of you for it. Your lips were hinting at a smile. "Don't argue with me, please, Iris. Just...take the necklace. It's alright. I wouldn't give it to you if I wasn't sure I wanted to."

I was so confused. It had to be the only nice thing you'd ever owned. You could probably pawn it for a few credits at some black market or pawn shop or something. But here you were, giving it to me, giving up your only chance at some sort of freedom, because you wanted a pretty girl with nice things to have more nice things. Still, your eyes were sparkling, so I sighed and took it, fastening it around my own neck and touching my fingers to the warm metal. I reminded myself your skin had been on it just seconds before, and that the same spot was now resting against mine.

"Thank you," I whispered.

You took my face in your hands and kissed me.

I didn't even have to think about it. I melted into you like butter. You had me in your grip and you could manipulate me any way you pleased. I suppose it would have been a sin, with the time we spent together, not to eventually transition our relationship into something physical like this. I had never really looked at you in such a way as was being defined, but I can't say I'd never entertained the thought as a passing fancy, something that I would like to happen. I was not a pining schoolgirl -- my philosophy was that if it happened, it would happen, and if not I'd have to get used to it and continue our relationship the way it had been before.

But now...your body so close, your lips on mine, the warm feeling of your fingers encasing the sides of my face...it was all I'd wanted and more, and I could see that now. I don't think, had I known what it was like, I ever could have gone without it.

"I'm sorry," you told me afterwards.

"Don't be," I answered. "I hope you know, Kellin...I'm rather fond of you."

You made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob.