“She smiles with all three of her mouths, and in my ears, with my eyes, and within my mind I hear her say the words “Je taime, Henry.”
I find myself leaving the house less and less. She has become my world, and I cannot find a reason to fear such a thing, though I know I should. She whispers things so sweet, offers a fond hello when I arrive home, and always has a meal of some sort freshly made when I arrive, no matter what the hour. Like magic. She speaks of many things, and though the language to not be my own I know every word.
She speaks of lifetimes passed, about times when things were not as they were. When she was still just a keeper of the gate, before her great offense. She speaks of the end of the world prevented, and the loss of a sibling, and of the rage of ancient Gods. But more than anything she speaks of her desire to kill what Gods may be. And she speaks of her love for me.
She follows me whenever I go in the home, though I never see her walk, and I never see her leave the room. She fears the threshold, she tells me. It is all she fears. The passage between the inside and the outside. So she always seems so concerned when I leave, and so thrilled when I get back. She says that I remind her of her lost sibling. It makes her protective.
Sometimes, when she I sleep, she curls up next to me. She is so warm. So soft. But when she does I dream of the most awful things. Wide desert expanses under gray, blackened, stormy skies. The ground cracked and dry though the rain falls like a wall. And I see standing over me something terrible. Something larger than anything I could imagine. Its black fur whipping in the wind, its eyes the color of a dead man. Its teeth mouthing words in a language I cannot understand. Horns twist like gnarled walnut branches from the side of its head, and every time I dream with her next to me, that horrible thing seems to get closer.
I ask her about the dream, and her smile always broadens. Always wondering how far away it is. Always promising that the nightmares will soon pass. And then everything; me, her, and even the world itself will be different. Because there was a promise she made when he sibling was killed by what Gods may be. She promised to unmake everything. And promises are something of the greatest importance.
My co workers make comments. They say I don't seem to laugh as much as I used to. That I don't seem to care about what I am doing. Just going through the motions. I sometimes want to explain, but how can I. True love only arrives once in a lifetime, and none of them had ever truly felt it. Not really. I can tell her anything, and she can tell me anything. And it isn't like talking to someone else. You are talking with someone like you. Someone who may as well be you. For if they were gone...if she were gone, I would simply cease.
I don't know how much time we have left. She seems to be becoming bored, or so she says. I look like her sibling. She tells me so. She only wants me and me alone. And she is honest with me. She says that things will change, but I will not really know the difference.
The dream has changed lately. Something new has appeared in the sky. At first, I thought that perhaps the sun that had broken through the clouds. But I know I was wrong to think that. Upon their return a comet shall burn along the horizon, for all to see. And when at last the cycle returns, horrors unimaginable shall come back to the world.
So she says.
She says the Gods will die.
I am tired. Very tired. I find myself calling in sick more. I want to be with her more, but all she wants to do is sleep. I don't want to sleep. I can see it getting closer, and I am scared what will happen when it returns. But she...she smiles with all three of her mouths, and I hear both in my head and in my ears an earnestness in her desire to be with me.
“Je taime Henry.”
My name isn't Henry.
She loves me. She tells me I must sleep.”