Some of them want to use you…

lunatik-710x400The boy took off his mask, as he sat quietly on the edge of the roof, so I was able to take a closer look into his deep brown eyes. His fingers, still holding his mask, were trembling…I took the chance to hold his hand, just like I was already holding his heart – oh, little struggling bird – why do we always chose distance from closeness? Anger from vulnerability…

The boy was sad enough to be honest. The demon mask wasn’t going to protect him, not when loneliness settles in, still, he wouldn’t let it go. His darkness was made of fear, so how do I break the walls without breaking his heart? The answer came quickly, simple and wise.

“Show me the place where you met The Shadow. I need to see it.”

This took me by surprise. Oh, what a foolish thought, to believe I’m in control. Is it my own vulnerability the only guarantee he needs? Will it make him feel safe enough to try…to be human again? There was only one way…

At the distance of a memory, there’s the green field where my heart found love. Here we are, it’s me now, the one trembling. I’m scared of my memories, I’m scared of missing the arms that held me, I want to run away and I want to stay, to hold this boy’s hand, to help him cross the line. Do I still know the way back from this world of shadows, demons and lost souls?

“I needed to see the place, to feel its beauty. This is Love, vibrating in every petal of every flower. It’s you, in every gentle ray of light…”

It’s me without the one I loved so much. I thought I’m just an empty shell that God, in His mercy, filled with faith, hope and a love we call supreme. I was wrong…all my definition about myself are pale and inconsistent, dancing capriciously on the edge of madness. I’m ready to give in…

“Give me your heart, it’s all I need…and I promise…my demon mask will be lost forever. I need the peace I’m sensing within you! You lured me into your marvelous territory, so now I’m an addict. I want what I see in you. I want to devour your serenity, to bathe in your restfulness splendor.”

I see the light in his eyes and I smile. He’s nothing but a child…just like me, just like every lost soul that crossed the line in a desperate search of love.

“I cannot give you my heart, for it doesn’t belong to me, not anymore. And I cannot give you peace. Simply because, what you sensed in me is nothing but the purest reflection of the peace I sensed in you…”

“But this place…your place?”

“You created it, to embrace your own serenity. See, you may not feel ready to cross the line back to the real world, but your heart has already made the step.”

He gave me his demon mask.

“Here it is, use it wisely. You’ll need it because here, more than in real life, some of them will try to use you. To cling to you, to bite the very core of your faith, to imprison your dreams…For they are nothing but hungry for a love they rejected long ago. Please use it while I find my way back to humanity.”

I hugged him tight, wishing him all the love in the world.

Alone, in the place where I met The Shadow, with a heart that loved too much to survive the storm, I threw away the demon mask. Way into the abyss!

For one thing is sure…

As long as I have my angel wings, even broken, even hurt, even lost or misguided…

…this is the only shelter I’ll ever need.



I found the image at:



Don’t you know? It’s the end of the world…


Dedicated to Rebecca –

I met him on the bridge of fire, he was walking with dreamy eyes and a careless attitude that always fascinated me. His boyish smile was enough to make me forget where I am, so the walls crumbled down and I ran into his arms.

He needed no weapon to convince me to follow him deeper into the world of shadows. He awakened memories, long forgotten smiles and a feeling I never imagined possible for me. Because feeling safe was far more important than feeling loved and he knew it!

He promised me a shelter and a place I could call “home”. I listened, hypnotized by the gentle tone of his voice. He asked me to trust him and that’s when I felt a cold shiver running through my veins. Old vows like “I wont trust the shadows, for they belong to the darkness…” went down the black water of oblivion.

What a happy day! I told myself.

What a joyful encounter! He whispered in my ear.

What a foolish gesture! To break down my defenses, for him to see inside…

His fingers draw undiscovered paths on my skin, the air become fire and, before I realized, he lured me into his world. His castle became my home for a second that lasted an eternity. He asked me to stay there, with him, for him, to be his. I almost said yes.

But then again…my blindness couldn’t last for ever. Nor my vulnerability! I needed freedom like I needed air! My way out of this labyrinth of chaos and destruction.

What happened to you? I asked with an undisguised tremble. You used to be so kind, you used to say the nicest things…You used to search for the light! And now?

Surrounded by demonic statues and stoned snakes, he lifted his shoulders, pointing around him.

“This is what happened. I got bored, I got stuck and there was no one to join me for eternity. What’s the point of going to Heaven, if all I found was an empty place? So I fell, like all of them. You call them demons? I call them friends.”

I cried at the thought of light turned into darkness. I felt nothing but compassion for the deceived one. He wiped away my tears.

“As for you…Maybe you’re my reward. Maybe I’m your curse. I’m not that bad and you’re not that good, we’re both just hiding from the storm.”

I demanded him to take me back home and he laughed.

“Why would you go home? Don’t you know? It’s the end of the world…it started while we were missing, in our quest for light, giving hope to the hopeless and love to the loveless. We were saving a dying world! Noble, but so foolish!”

That’s when I knew…I wont be deceived, I wont be leaded into temptation. Not this time, for this is not about me! It’s his story, his second chance and I’m here as an instrument of Love. A dream come true for me, a miracle for him. So I fell on my knees, asking God to love what’s beyond forgiveness…

I’ll never meet him on the bridge of fire, never again. For I was forgiven and he was saved. That’s the measure of our God’s love. Beyond any border…



The source of the image:









How could this love be in danger…

let-go-816x428Let’s give ourselves one year…

So that our story could be different and we’d fight this unfair fate that turned us into strangers. We’d break down all the walls we worked so hard to build. Between us…

So that we’d run to each other with open arms and honest hearts. It is the right thing, the God’s most precious gift for us, the one we’d fight for an eternity and beyond. Our love… 

That’s what he told her with tears in his eyes, gently caressing her hair. Searching for a long gone light. Inside her. But she remained silent, only the dark circles surrounding her (-once green-) eyes seemed to lift their silent prayer to the clear sky. He took her in his warm arms, but she pulled away.

Pain. Let go.

And he let her fall down, once again, a repetitive lesson of failure.

I don’t want my love to destroy you. I just need you…

Let’s say our vows again. I promise to love you and protect you. I swear I wont be afraid, never again! I will never run and hide into the icy shelters of this selfish pride. 

I only demand one year. One year of love. Complete, passionate, tender, free. Ours.

Black tears and lost shadows were dancing around her and he knew. They will not be given one more year. They will never dance again. His desperate vows and demands will be met by a silent sky. And he’ll only embrace her when the summer’s wind will sweetly caress his -once careless- hair.

He’ll only love her in his dreams.

Just one month!

One day!

One hour! Is it too much to ask from you? Are you that blind to pain and suffering? Are you even there? Do you even care? If you do, just know that I am sorry. And I’m ready to beg for one more hour.

I’ll kiss her slowly and tender. I wont rush this time. I’ll take my time to listen to every breath and every beating of her heart. I’ll treasure every touch, I’ll cherish every word. I’ll taste the sweetness of her happy tears and I’ll pray with her. 

I will make her happy. 

She smiled. With pale, trembling fingers, she touched his lips, stopping this blasphemy. What’s another hour when you’re facing eternity? What’s love when you cannot forgive yourself?

For wasting every chance. Love, life, youth, wisdom, beauty, blessing! What a loss!

All for them, all given by the highest power of the universe. The same power that opened the gates of Heaven, turning pain into peace.

So you know the story, my love. We may not be given one more hour. Regardless of the pain and anger you’ll address to the stormy sky. I see your -once loving- eyes filled with remorse. Could you love me now?

Life goes on, time is slipping away, one year, one day, one hour…

How about now?

Will your choices remain the same?



The source of the image:


Still growing wings (II) (more than victims)


She dreamed of this ivory dress ever since she was a little girl…and now, wearing the white veil, dancing on her  silvery high-heels (another dreamed come true), she felt so shy, so little and vulnerable. Alone in the special bride’s room, in the old church, she needed a hug, more than anything in the world.

Tears were not allowed and she knew it. The make up itself costed a small fortune and the veil was so delicate and soft that any trace of tear would have been a stain. Her appearance in the church was designed to be a moment of success. Still, staying there, all alone, she found herself dreaming of moon lights and the touch of waves on her bare feet…and love…

She intuited the threat and she felt the danger. She sensed the smell and the cruel shine of the knife edge paralyzed her. The man had a scarf over his face, but stains of blood were around his eyes and forehead. And she knew is much too late…

to run…

to beg…

to cry…

to say goodbye.

And she wanted to cry for all the people waiting for her in the church. For the wasted love. For the ivory dress and for the white veil. For the unspoken words.

She wanted to cry, but she found herself smiling and turning to face the demon, not even aware of this strange inner strength. Her lips moved and she spoke words she wouldn’t recognized as her own. No tremble in the delicate hands that cupped his face.

“It’s alright, I wont hurt you. You’re safe with me, please don’t cry…”

Her voice sounded like a melody and he knelt in front of her. She caressed his hair, noticing how he’s clinging to his knife, shaking and praying and saying meaningless words.

“I know the feeling of having no one to care. Loneliness and fear…I know the pain of love turned into anger. You are not alone.”

He touched her veil, leaving a dark trace. She felt him convulsing like electrocuted when he saw the dirt on the fine fabric. He dropped the knife and she hugged him, lifting his face so he could look into her eyes, then gently touching his shoulders to make him stand.

“You’re just like me…and we’re more than victims. We’re always praying for peace and light, but somehow we’re turning to darkness. Don’t worry about the veil, it was meant to cover my eyes. Why would it…when all I ever wanted was to see LOVE becoming real?

He suddenly grabbed the knife whispering “I’m sorry” in the most terrifying and harsh voice she ever heard.

She felt pushed on the wall behind her. The little mirror broke into small pieces and, for a moment, she thought she’s seeing a glow…a presence…the touch of wings…warmth…LOVE.

She was alive and he was running. No Heaven. no angels, no sound of violins. Just the miracle of being alive. And a world who’ll always see her through a white veil…

She was never an angel, but she was meant to shine. Just like you, just like me.

Just like all of us, children of God and witnesses of a new, miraculous tomorrow.


Here you can read the story from his perspective:

The source of the picture:

Still growing wings…


“She looked so pure and sweet in her ivory dress! Just like a little girl always dreaming to become a princess, she was playing her role perfectly. Grace and elegance within every little gesture, brightness in her eyes and in her smile…And I…”

Please continue. You…

“I was there, witnessing the becoming of an angel. In my eyes and in my soul, beyond fears and doubts, a new sunrise just embraced me in light. And I knew, the time has come for me to fulfill my destiny.”

What was your destiny?

“Her. She was my destiny and fate never lies. I waited until she was alone and I saw her making a pirouette and rehearsing some dance steps, all alone. I got so close that I could sensed her perfume. Delicate like a white rose, wild like a black orchid, sweet like an angel singing. I was prepared…”

To kill her?

“No, it wasn’t like that! I was just…she was just…growing wings. She just…”

She was just a bride on her wedding day. Not an angel, not a vision. 

“Then why wasn’t she scared? My face was deformed, swollen and bruised. I was like a savage in front of a porcelain princess. I saw my reflection in the mirror of her eyes. And I cried. And I knelt. The ritual demanded humility and penitence.”

Tell me about the knife. 

“No, not yet. You did not ask about the miracle. She was not scared, she was…”


“She looked at me with a sad smile. Her delicate hands touched my shoulders and helped me stand. She had a white tissue and she wiped the blood of my face. And she talked to me…and I was so mesmerized that I couldn’t understand. It was like a melody. Sweet words, comforting and calming, so full of love and compassion. I don’t remember…but I’m sure I saw tears in her eyes. Do you think she cried for me?”

Let’s talk about the knife. 

“I used it. I took it out of my coat and I kept it hidden, so she wouldn’t be scared. It should had been painless…A little innocent lamb, unaware of the cruelty of this dark world.”

So you did kill her? Are you confessing a crime?

“I’m confessing the crime of touching her white veil with my dirty hands. It smelled like vanilla…It was a crime and I was impure. But she forgave me…she did. Even for running away from her. Even for not giving her wings. I ran and I cried in a bush outside of that old church.”

Remember, you said you used the knife.

“I cut the hand that was going to harm her. I cut it to the bone! In tears and blood I found my salvation. I was redeemed and made new.”

By whom?

“You know the answer.”

Where is she now?

“Somewhere in the world, living an extraordinary life. Getting too close to darkness sometimes. Praying for a freedom she always had. Still growing wings.”

Are you in love with her?

“I hate her! With everything in me! I really hate her…”


“Because hating her means keeping her safe. And loving her would be like touching that white veil all over again. With hands that carry dirt, blood, guilt and violence.”

Wait! Are you playing with my mind? Are we talking about a girl? A possible victim?

“Of course not, don’t be such a fool. It was all along, all about Light. And you asked the wrong questions…again.”

I left the room, a little confused, a little frustrated, a little upset…leaving him with his paintings. I heard him laughing, like he would be planning the perfect prank. Talking to an unseen ghost…

“See, I told you we’ll fool her. No, it was not a lie, we don’t lie! How was I supposed to tell her? Was about Light…and she is Light…(with a nervous laugh)…and it’s not about the past. Somewhere in the future…Now leave her alone! She’s still growing wings…!”



The source of the image:





This perfect moment that I created in my mind…


Maybe it was the voice of an angel, that inner voice I couldn’t ignore…Or, maybe, it was a part of my past I just couldn’t move on from, repeating the lines over and over again. My intentions were pure…

…so, here I am, with chocolate cookies, sandwiches and tea. And a blanket…

He’s sleeping on the same bench I saw him yesterday and he seems in peace, even smiling in his sleep. I imagine the moment when he’ll wake up and he’ll find the hot tea and the food. Will he blame this on the angels he’s drawing every day? Will he believe he’s still dreaming? Will his demons stop for just a moment, now that he has someone praying for him?

I come closer and tuck him in, the blanket is warm and smooth, will he dream of the perfect embrace? The scars I see on his hands and chest, self-inflicted wounds, some still fresh, senseless words…

“No” and “Not her” and “Stop” and something strange…the word “VOW” in big letters, with a date under it. Written above his heart.

He’s waking up, so I’d better leave. That’s what my reason is telling me, but, again, that inner voice…

His smile when he sees me standing there, with a cup of hot tea, simply takes away my fears. And I see his eyes now, they’re blue. Not dark, not deep, but blue like the stormy sky.

“You’re real? Not just in my head? Not just another hallucination?” 

He takes the tea, not knowing what to say, how to show gratitude. There’s no need to…I feel it, from heart to heart, beyond words. I did what I came for, now it’s time for me to leave.

“Please don’t leave me. Just…just tell me why.”

“Because I can only imagine how cold are the nights you spend here, on this bench. And I wanted to make your life a little easier, at least for this morning.”

“You know I hate liars. The truth, please.”

His words are harsh, he always did this, during my summer practice at the mental hospital. Asking me to go beyond the surface, to confront my hidden truths. Now, 16 years later and many, many scars…he learned to say “please”. And I’m still learning to stop lying to myself.

“Okay…I will tell you. See, in my darkest moments, when even faith seemed to fade away, no light at the horizon, I used to close my eyes. To imagine something. A perfect moment made of so many beautiful details…A glass of warm milk and chocolate cookies for breakfast…and a golden ray of light on my window…a gentle wind on my skin. Barefoot in an enchanted forest where the perfect music is played by humming birds…”

“And his love.”

“Yes…and his love.”

“But you never got that. So you’re creating perfect moments for the lost ones. Lonely little girl, if you only knew…”

“Tell me, I want to know.”

“My perfect moment is right here and now. It starts with a cup of hot tea and you, sitting on this bench…like we would be common people. A simple conversation or just listening to the birds singing, this is my perfect moment…”

“We can do this, we really can.”

“No…we can’t ignore the past. My crime. The pills I have to take, to keep the voices quiet. The constant struggle, the darkness, the scars…But, for just one moment, you made me dream of a perfect moment like this. Thank you.”

“There is a shelter where you can get help…even a job…maybe some friends…”


“I have my help, they’re around me always…even now. They tell me to send you away. They ask me to keep you safe.”

“I am safe, I trust in this light I’m seeing in you, it’s stronger than the darkness.”

I see tears in his eyes and I wish I could…I wish I could change things. For him, for me, for all the lost ones…

“I told you then and I’m telling you again. I cannot give you peace! Not now…not while I walk through the darkest darkness. But I can save your life. And I will!”

And he’s throwing all the food on the muddy ground. And starts to scream and to destroy his canvas. “Leave me alone! Leave! Officer! Someone! She’s stealing my food! Police! I need help!”

And, while I’m trembling in shock and horror, he grabs my arm, whispering to my ear.

“You need to create those perfect moment in reality, not just in your head. Find your enchanted forest. Find love. You know I hate liars and you’re always lying!”

“I didn’t…”

“You said you trust the light when there is no light! Now run! You thief! Officer, she stole my food!”

I run and the wind is drying my tears stained face.

And, looking behind, from a safe distance, I see him curled up on the ground, crying, trying to save the chocolate cookies…





Just a lonely little girl…


16 years ago…

The interview was not going well, not at all…He must have sensed my fear, because he just shut down all the communication, concentrating exclusively on his drawing. “The Painter”, that’s how they called him and he seemed to accept. In fact, in the old mental hospital, being famous would probably bring more attention, better food, even care.

I knew his case from the local news papers and now, standing face to face with the painter, I realized I knew nothing at all. He was painting angels, like always, completely ignoring my questions. A lost cause and a lost scholarship…

-You ask the wrong question in a very unpleasant manner. Maybe I should interview you. How old are you?

I dropped my pencil and my papers, creating a wave of laughter somewhere behind me. I was 21 back then, in my summer practice. All blushed, with a trembling voice, I decided to lie.

-I’m 23.

The noise was terrible. In an outburst of rage, he just smashed down his canvas and blue paint was spilled all over the floor.

-I hate liars. You are 21 and you look like 18! And you’re trying so hard to impress people with your fake inner peace and your inner strength and your high heels and…

A nurse approached us, but he stopped her.

-No. I am calm. I want her to ask the right questions. I want her to speak her mind and her fears. I will not shout at her anymore.

My colleagues were starring, so I whispered What are the right question?

-You torture yourself to appear in a way that’s so different from the lonely little girl I see in front of me. Why?

Because I need to know…

The words flew out of my mouth, without control.

-You need to know why I killed that girl? Why I paint angels? Why I’m locked in here instead of living a beautiful life? Why do you need to know? For your paper work?


For me…it will give me a sense of control…over life.

He got closer, dangerously closer.

-I can’t give you inner strength, I can’t give you self-control or peace of mind. It will take years…years of tears and fears to conquer those…and it’s your mission to accomplish. But I will tell you why I paint angels.


-Because one of them talks to me right now. And she’s ready to cry, sweet lonely girl…


I saw him and it was almost impossible to recognize him. All covered in black, even the hands, even the face. Free. Painting angels in the park.

-I see you too.

I didn’t realized I was starring and, to make it all even more awkward, he came closer.

-You are very, very beautiful.

Thank you.

-Tears and fears and pain made your eyes brighter. I’m a free man now. How about you?

I have no answer and he knows it.

-It’s okay, just ask.


-Something that starts with “why”.

And I ask the obvious. Why are you covered in black clothes? It’s so warm and sunny…

He comes closer, dangerously closer.

-Black clothes keep the darkness inside. I cannot let it out again.

And I understand now the reason…somehow the answers I was searching for were right there, in my soul.

Do you have any control over your darkness?

-I have my angels…Do YOU have any control over your life?

I have to go, I’m sorry…

He grabs my arm.

-You’re rushing back…where? Tell me, sweet girl, why are you so lonely? I need your answer.


-Because you appeared in my dreams to heal my loneliness. With your bright, tearful eyes. And I painted you in thousand paintings, but it’s still not enough…

I pulled away and ran, using my sun glasses to hide away my tears.

I looked back, a few steps away, he was still there, talking to an invisible presence.

“No, I wont…I wont harm her…no…there’s light inside her…you know why…you know she’s protected…stay inside me…don’t go after her…she cried enough.”

John 12:35 Then Jesus told them, “You are going to have the light just a little while longer. Walk while you have the light, before darkness overtakes you. Whoever walks in the dark does not know where they are going.”




Source of the image:





Sometimes we long for the unspoken


There’s a point where the emotional pain becomes physical. Beyond that, human mind creates echoes of our own sufferance.

-You need to give a meaning to this image because it’s haunting you for years, so speak the unspoken and set yourself free.

-I can’t, I’m sorry, I can’t!

-Why? There will be no judgement, you did nothing wrong. I wont say a single bad word, I wont blame. It’s all in your mind, honey…nothing really happened.

-You don’t understand…it’s not because I’m afraid of your judgement…is just that…


Well, setting myself free would mean putting a huge burden on you! And I can’t…

But he convinced me, unaware of the crucial importance of my confession. So here is the story, the way I lived it.

I don’t remember falling asleep, but I remember the pills. They were supposed to take the pain away and to help me sleep. The image of the chaos we created, his wedding ring somewhere on the floor, his clothes, an open suitcase, the sound of the door he slammed behind him, in anger.

But he came back, I feel him in my half-conscious sleep, he came back because our love is stronger than any prejudice, our love is divine and he knows it…

It’s cold, even if we’re in the middle of the summer…He’s gently covering my trembling body with the soft blanket and I cry. He’s caressing my hair, barely touching my face. It’s different, he’s different and I love this tenderness. I’m trying to open my eyes, he sees my struggle and I feel him kissing my closed eyes. I feel so safe, like never before…

I need you…don’t go…don’t leave me…

Shhhtttt…he whispers and his fingers are pressing against my lips…a shiver runs through my body and I’m sobbing again. There are things he needs to hear…but he wants me to stop talking. I open my lips, there’s no air and I’m gasping…

I love you…

Love…I hear his voice like an echo, but I cannot recognize it…I was suffocating before and now it feels like floating, I dream of blue waters and playful golden lights…He’s holding me, I feel cradled, his arms are my fortress…

But why…why can’t I…

I want to run my fingers through his hair, to look into his eyes, to savor the smell of his skin and the taste of his kisses. Trapped in this darkness, I’m awake, but motionless, laying helpless, betrayed by my senses, struggling to breath…

No…it shouldn’t…hurt…

Quiet…stay quiet…his voice…his fingers on my neck…there’s something cold and I need him to promise that it’ll be alright. Because I’m afraid and I’m hurting…

I’m sorry…

I see it in his eyes, he’s not sure what to make of this story of mine.

And the next thing I remember is the sound of your keys and you trying to wake me up. I cried for hours, in a state of shock.

-You were upset and that’s normal. It was our first big fight and I reacted so foolishly. First thing I did when I came back was to put my wedding ring back on my finger. I never took it off ever since that day.

-You think I made this up? The blue traces on my neck, like being strangled, the bruises on my body, the nightmares…

-I think you had a bad dream, caused by the sleeping pills combined with the painkillers you took.

-What if…

-I would never do that to you, I’m not a monster! What you’re implying is abominable, horrible, and I would never…

-Not you…but what if…

-Don’t! Don’t even say the words. You know what? You were right, I’m sorry for asking you, I’m sorry for pushing you to say these things. They’re better left unspoken. I’m…going out…I need air…

There’s a point where human mind creates echoes of our own emotional pain. That’s where the nightmares come to life, that’s what defines the darkness we’re so eager to explore. My search for answers became his burden, our longing for the unspoken became his curse.

Was it real or was it just a nightmare…

Was it him or a complete stranger…

Was it abuse or a weird unconsciously consent…

Does it matter?

When the line is so thin and blurry…The unspoken becomes real. Emotional pain creates monsters. We abuse our fragile souls seeking for a damnation of any kind, of anyone…



There’s another world inside of me

46c814322ccabd49ecbc720ff95667fb(This post suddenly appeared in my mind, word by word, out of nowhere. A vision or a premonition? I needed to write it and I did it almost automatically. If it was destined for someone to read, I hope and pray it’ll help them…)

Look at them, what do you see?

“They’re a lovely family.”

Look closer, really open your eyes! What do you see now?

“They’re my friends. I like them.”

Open your heart. A woman, a man and their daughter. In danger, all of them. Life threatening danger. They wont make it to the next month, unless we do something.

“For God’s sake! They’re young, beautiful, happy! They love each other! Look at her, how she’s holding his arm, her love for him is deep, powerful, visible!”

She deletes the history on her laptop every night. So he wouldn’t find out about the other guy. The one she flirts with. She hides all of her messenger conversations. She puts quotes from the Bible on her facebook page. No one would suspect that she’s visiting dating sites and, sometimes, she’s sending pictures of herself to strangers. She believes that virtual sex is not cheating. She’s wrong.

“Terrible! But…is she in danger?”

Her heart is slowly giving in. She’ll die in a month, a clean death. Heart attack.

“How about him? He holds her so tenderly! Just look how he’s kissing her hair, savoring her perfume…”

He hides all of his passwords and he has plenty! He watches porn fantasizing about being dominated. He turns his back pretending to sleep every night when she’s trying to get close. He’s afraid that, one day, he’ll hurt her, he’ll shock her, he’ll break her. Because he dreams of these sort of practices with her. He hates their daughter, he wants her away, far away. He overcompensates by buying her expensive gifts. He wishes he could harm someone, anyone, just to relieve a little of this unbearable pressure.

“I can’t believe…and yet, I believe you. Why is he in danger?”

He has diabetes and he doesn’t know. He suspects that something is wrong so he drinks and eats to exhaustion. He’ll be in a diabetic coma in less than a month. He wont make it.

“No, please don’t tell me that their teenage daughter is also…”

I’m glad you asked. She writes terrible things in her diary. She writes about harming herself, about burning, cutting, killing herself. She hates herself. Under the perfect mask hides a a demonic voice, pushing her to do it. She tries every night but she fails and hates herself even more. She lies. She replaced first love with first hate. She replaced tenderness with violence in all of her fantasies about boys. She doubts her sexual orientation. And…

“Please stop! I can’t hear anymore. The part about the girl terrifies me the most. And I have a suspicion about the danger she’s in…”

She’ll kill herself by the end of this month.

“How do you know all these things?”

Don’t ask. Just help them! Help them now!


Talk to them. More than the usual small talk.

Visit them, don’t let them alone.

Write about them. So they would know that someone saw through the masks.

Pray for them and pray with them.

Look at them. With the eyes of your soul.

Look at me now. What do you see?

Some nights we’re just breathing fire!


I saw her running like crazy, towards (what she believed to be) the only visible light. Ignoring the pain of breathing too fast and too deep, sighting with her feet stumbling on rocks and thorns, bitten by snakes and flames. I saw her crossing the bridge of fire, going right into the heart of that vibrant black light.

His aura. Or was it the black of his eyes? She’s biting her bottom lip, agonizing for a drop of water. Gasping for air in the burning air. And still, she looks happy.

Here I am, with everything in me. Take me, I want what you promised. To run with you and to be yours. Take this brokenness inside and make me whole. Give me life…for I belong to you.

He’s slowly turning to face her, his velvet wings almost touching her pale skin. The slightly amused smile and the flickering flames were not what she expected. Discouraged and alone, she’s clinging to her only hope. No dignity left in the empty shell of her heart. No pride and no sense of self value.

So she kneels in front of him.

And his cruel laugh breaks the last remain of her fragile inner strength. She breaks, she cries, she begs, she dies…

Really? I mean…REALY?

Just as I imagined, his voice has the force of a thunder. Just as she always fantasized, his words bring her to life.

Dark, dead fingers grabbing her arm are forcing her to stand. She trembles in front of him, waiting for her sentence.


If she would only look, if she would only dare, she would see the flames in his gaze and the snake wrapping around his neck. His wings burn with the fire of hell. His touch has the coldness of a thousand stones and when he grabs her chin, she feels torn in pieces.

So you want ME? 

Yes. Yes! More than anything. More than life. More than love…

He pushes her for no apparent reason. Just to see her falling? Just to see her crawling back to his feet? From where I’m standing, this is simply…unfair. Isn’t it?


She stops sighting, she barely breaths, waiting for his next move. But his tone is arrogant and harsh.

Weak and useless. Despicable. The one who falls so easily will never walk among us. WE are the ones who breath fire. And you cannot feed our desires. 

Knowing he’ll fly away, feeling she’ll never get a second chance, she does the unimaginable. Oh, sweet girl, did you really thought…?

Yes, she did. She clung to his wings and tore them apart. Black feathers and black blood, the horror of an endless desperate cry…

Some nights I breath fire too. In pure pain and deep agony. Ever since he left. He closed a door and opened the gates of hell. So take me now, dance me to the edge and let me burn!

(He’s not worthy, he’s really not worthy of your sacrifice!) – I shout in vain. It has to be her free choice.

Death stares at her with frightened eyes. Broken wings and broken hearts…when will it end? When will we learn?

I cannot take you. There’s ONE who calls you “my child” and I have no power over HIM. Do NOT call me again, you fool!

She raise her head and smiles brightly.

Her triumph is my victory and her happy-end is my beginning.

In love with life, because we’re worth it.





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