"The fascination of what's difficult
Has dried the sap out of my veins, and rent
Spontaneous joy and natural content
Out of my heart"
- W. B. Yeats
I'm not sure I ever did this with Harry. Sure, sometimes I'd climb into bed after she was already asleep and listen to her breathe, but I never actually turned on a light and watched her sleep. It just never occurred to me. And I think, you know, that it might have freaked her out a little. I mean, to wake up in the middle of the night and find your husband staring at ya? It's not exactly normal. Especially when I do it every night, like now.
I wonder if you know. You've never opened your eyes and caught me, but that doesn't mean you're not awake even now. It's hard to tell the difference between sleeping and wakefulness in someone who doesn't breathe.
Harry now, she always knew when I was asleep because I snore. She hated that, said I kept her up half the night even after she turned me over. You don't seem to mind it, even though your hearing has got to be sharper than any human's. I wonder if you can tune it out.
Maybe it does keep you up, and you're just afraid to complain because then I might walk out on our little arrangement and you'll be stuck sleeping alone again. And using your right hand instead of my ass.
To be honest, though, I use you as much as you use me. The fact that you can't ever love me because of your curse just means that I don't have to pretend to love you, either. Because I don't. I can't.
When Harry and I got married, I really thought that was the end of my life as an individual. I was young and naive, and so was she. We both thought that our marriage was forever. And I loved her so much...I still do, really. It destroyed me when I found out the truth about myself not because I wasn't human anymore (well, not 100% human, at least) but because I knew that Harry wouldn't want me anymore. How could she? Every time I sneezed or was hurt and lost control, this ugly spiky thing would erupt from my skin like some kind of nightmare monster. It was me, but it wasn't. I wouldn't usually let her see my in my demon guise, if I could help it. I'd run down the hall and lock myself in the bathroom until I looked normal again. I never ever let her touch me, though God knows she tried. I just wanted to pretend it wasn't happening, and when Harry wouldn't help me out with that little project, I found something that would.
I didn't mean to end up an alcoholic, ya know. I don't suppose anyone ever does. It's not exactly the most meaningful way of life out there. But it did the trick. It hid the pain and shame and disgust until I couldn't feel much of anything at all. That's when Harry left. Things really got bad after that. If you think I drink a lot now, you shoulda seen me then. I was a mess. I'm still a mess, really, but having sex with a vampire I don't love is only one of the symptoms of that. Lusting after someone I could never in a million years date is another. I'm afraid to get too close to people now, afraid to open up in case one day I walk in and find them packing their bags. Sayonara, Francis.
I'm still not okay with it. The being a demon part, I mean. I guess you would understand that because you're not really okay with being a demon either. Isn't it funny how things turn out? Here Harry's all gung-ho about studying demons and you and I would give just about anything to be human. But that's the way of it, I suppose. Nobody can be happy for very long.
So here we are then. Both of us miserable, using each other for a quick cum and someone to cling to if the nightmares are bad. You have to bury the past to get on with the future, but some of those ghosts don't lie too still. Especially in the dark. Speaking of the dark, I guess I should switch the light off and get back to sleep. Tonight it'll be enough to feel you and know you're there without having to keep looking to make sure. Tonight's a good night.
-end-