?

His conscience burned him. He lay there, wondering how long he would remain conscious if he did not eat. The sounds of the active household would become his music, as he grew woosy. Tears flowed from his eyes silently. That he could just disappear, so softly into nothing, how peaceful that would be. Images of Sonya haunted him in his dreams, super imposed with images of Ursula, his first love. And all those women he thoughtlessly got pregnant while he was human. Thoughtlessly, all of it. And now he wished to be free of thoughts.

But he did not deserve this, he knew. All around him, the sounds of the busy household would become his music. They would live their lives, without him. And that would be as it should be.

Meanwhile, a heavy hearted Sonya faced her first bed alone as a vampire. Fleeting images passed through her mind. Her mother was calling out to her. Oh God, what could she say to her poor mother? She heard her, as if she were still in that pretty pink room, with the rose quilt. Oh god, she wanted to die. Now she lay on the sofa in a house of strangers. STRANGErs, strange, she. Strange, all strange, forever strange.

Tears silently flowed from her eyes. How would she, the new strange one, adapt? Had she ever held her life in so much thought before? Had she just drifted? Where would she have been if she never met Sebastian? Would she still be that lonely girl just reading books, living in books, through books, never through people, she the friendless one, who shrank from the light before ever it burned. Was that a life, was that her life? Sebastian did reach into her world. No one else had.

How her tears flowed freely! She cried for the sun she would never know again. She cried for the children she would never have. She cried for every faithless moment she had known as a human being. She cried for the wisdom she would never know as a human being. She cried for the wisdom she hoped would not abandon her now. Could God hear her cries? Did it matter? Was she a thing that could know redemption? Or was there no forgiveness for the taking of life?

She cried for the loss of those four human beings she caused her first night of hunger. Might they have known redemption? Here there was at least Michael, assuring she not incure any more such debt. And she cried some more. This was no sad book she was living. This was her life. These hardened beings around her, how did they cope? They were all once soft and vulnerable human beings.

Could they give her clues? Or, having chosen their lives, were they unprepared how to deal with one who hadn't? How she missed her mother! She longed to feel her love again, to be in her arms, have her tell her some words of wisdom, how she might still be a good and strong and true being. Could it be possible? Michael was certainly all of that. And she sobbed some more. It was possible. It was possible.

Just the faintest tinge of hope dared to edge the borders of her depression. Just the faintest tinge. But how she hurt all over, like the change in the cells of her body caused each cell to scream with pain. She did not want this 'dark gift'. But she did not want the only way she could return it, either. She would have to learn to cope.

A slow and quiet peace entered her, and she found herself breathing more deeply and soon she knew the peace of sleep. Her mind was her own. She held onto that. Her mind was her own. No one would ever mess with her thoughts again. She had that much.

Golden, the empathetic one, lay in his bed, feeling the agony around him. Were the others aware? Had they any idea? He had laughed at first, when the unhappy couple had arrived. But it was more from his old hurt of feeling abandoned when Sebastian had left him to go after Sonya. He was the lucky one. Oh my, how that young girl hurt! And then he smiled to himself. He was only one year older. He lay in his bed and tossed and turned.

He'd not thought of divinity once since meeting Michael. He had been his savior from the lonely depression which had eaten at him. But now, he prayed, hoping his voice could be heard. He prayed the young girl could be happy. He prayed Sebastian would learn to forgive himself and learn how not to make those mistakes again. He did love Sebastian. He did. He always would. And he cried when he thought of Sebby's puppy dog enthusiasms. He hadn't meant any harm. Goldie couldn't be mad at him forever. His tears moistened his pillow, as he prayed he would have the strength and wisdom to help both these two people, one young like him, and one who had been young in spirit and who he hoped would be again.

Michael lay in his bed alone. He was dimly aware of the presence of Sebby. He knew he was near by. He pondered the confessions he'd heard this day, and how best to help both of the sad people. One he loved as a brother, and one he loved as if she were his own fledgling. Both were dear to him. He wasn't one to pray. He had never been. He had always turned to logic to sort his problems out. Yet this moment, he was the closest to praying he'd ever been. How he hoped he would have wisdom.

The mood was somber in the ladies' room, as well. Livia regretted her glee at hoping for a juicy story. The two were clearly miserable. She didn't know how to help them, but she sure hoped not to hurt either of them any more than they were.

Gwen, too, was deep in thought, deep in trance, as she prayed for both of them. She loved Sebby. He was so cute, with his playful little ways. She knew he didn't mean to ruin that lonely girl's life. How she prayed the young girl would embrace her 'gift', and learn the strengths it could give her. Was this a gift better appreciated in middle age, after some maturity had been gained? She hoped she could help both of them.

As the two lay quietly lost in their own thoughts, neither could know just how much the others thoughts were with them.

Go to Chapter 9, Forgiven
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