By Seneca Crosby

I never appreciated the light before I was plunged into the darkness. Over the weeks the Dark has morphed into a thick cloud of shadows. Its hands hold me down and pull me further into the darkness. The air around me is so heavy I can barely lift my head. Recently, the Dark developed a voice. It whispers in my ear and forces me to remember. Remember his face, his touch, his words. 

The more I remember the more the Dark looks like him. Its words hurt more now. “It’s all your fault. You wanted it.” “They will never listen to you.” Its grip tightens on me as I believe it’s lies. I close myself off from reality and huddle in the Darks’ cold arms. I fear it as much as I feared him. If I left he would hurt me. So I stayed.

I stopped fighting it and eventually, its face changed to a less familiar one. It told me that it was called Death. It told me that if I went with it, all my hurt and pain would disappear. Every day I stepped closer to Death. It promised me happiness with it. It promised to destroy him, to remove his fingerprints from my tattered spirit. I wanted to forget him more than anything. I wanted the memories and the hurt of his aura to disappear. I trusted that Death was the solution. 

Death cared for me more than anyone else did. It certainly cared more about me than he did. He only cared about my body, about what I could give him. He only took from me, and the one thing he gave me was pain. This pain haunted me and stalked my soul. He had beaten me down to the point where everything around me seemed bland and drained of color. I was told to let it go and move on. 

How could I move on when he was wrapped around my every thought? How could I move on when he still walked the same halls I did? How could I move on when Death promised me a relief that moving on never could? Death’s argument seemed more and more compelling as the days droned on. I was ready to make my decision.

     “I’ll go with you.” I spoke up to its blank face. I told hold of its frigid hand and almost jumped back in surprise. I had expected its hands to be warm and comforting. I had expected to be relieved to be with Death. All its words came crashing down on me and I realized it’s lies. I pulled my hand away from it and turned away from it. I didn’t get far until I felt the overwhelming pain from him. All the memories that had been frozen by Death had melted back into my brain. I felt colder than I had been with Death. 

Again, I was compelled to take its hand and follow it. I would rather feel Death’s glacial hands than live with the memories of him. I didn’t trust it, but I trusted it more than I trusted my own soul. I trusted that he could save me and that was worth all the pain. I stepped towards it again but before I could reach for its hand, an intense warmth overcame me. I looked behind me and a figure of light descended from the sky. 

She was beautiful. She took hold of my crippled soul and gave it hope. She led me away from Death and helped me back onto my feet. She was the true friend Death was pretending to be. She reminded me that no matter how dark and hopeless the world seems, the light is always around the corner. I haven’t seen much of Death much lately, nor have I felt it’s cold aura. Light has helped me back into my true self. I was fighting to win and I won thanks to her. She saved me from myself and gave me a reason to keep moving forward. Sure, it was hard at first, but I leaned against her for support as I took my first few wobbly steps away from Death. I have gradually started to understand that Death was lying to me. That what he did wasn’t my fault and that he can no longer haunt me. I’m free from him and Death, all because I turned my head towards Light and believed that she could save me.