Decent: Part II: The Savior

The moment my eyes had shut, I awaited the death that was certain to take me.  I didn't know how much longer I would go without food or water.  I was sure death was working a cold finger down my spine; taking his time and making an endearment of my youthful flesh.  I could almost hear the cold whispers in my ear; "ah dear, so young, so young!  What a sweet day it is when I deliver unto the flesh so young!  I followed you out there, you know," I could hear him taunt. "Out in the ashes of your friends, and family, hopelessly wandering.  NO food, and little water; Dear, how long did you think you would last out there?"

I could fell a smile drawing itsself across my face.  "Take me then,: I swore aloud.  "Make of me your lover, for I embrace you, Death!"

That was when I heard the footsteps, so distant at first, drawing nearer with every quickened step.  In my state of mid, I believed it to be Death coming in to take me.

I heard someone kneel beside me and there was fidgeting, and then I felt two warm fingers pressing hard on my neck.  A minute later, the fingers left my neck, and two warm hands were turning me over onto my back.  That was when I opened my eyes again.  That was when I knew my fate had changed forever; though he would've argued that it was fate for me no be found there and I was never meant to die out there.

I opened my eyes and I couldn't believe it.  Someone else had survived. . . survived and found me, of all people, of all the chance in the world.  I wasn't alone in my desolation now.

"Hello there," he said.  He gently hoisted me up onto one knee and supported my head with his hand.  I felt like a doll in his arms, so easily moved about.  "How long have you been out here?" he asked.  I wanted to tell him, I wanted to explain to him the agonizing feeling in the pit of my ash-filled belly; I wanted to tell him--no beg him--not to leave me; not in this desolated pit. . . not again. . . but I couldn't move.  So instead, I only looked at him, into his eyes hoping he could hear my pleads.

"It's okay," he said, his voice so soothing.  "I'll take care of you."

He heard me! He heard me and he wasn't going to let me die!

At that moment I summoned up the last of my available strength through my aching, burning muscles and threw my arm over him, embracing him for as long as ii could.  I wanted so badly to cry in that moment; he would not isolate me; abandon me; leave me for dead.  Immediately, a tie was made; a bond had formed and a vice had been created around my heart, and I would not know how evil of a vise it would be until the day it's leeching grip had been taken from my desperate, wretched heart.  For now, though, I was not alone. . . and that was all that mattered.  A few moments we held that embrace, and, though I'd have liked to forget the world and all that it had become at that moment, I merely felt safer; drawn back from death's waning grip.

With his free hand, he rustled in his pockets and drew out a pair of big, green winter gloves and he slipped them, one at a time, over my scrawny, freezing fingers.  Then he took off a woolen scarf that masked his face and he wrapped it around mine.  "So you don't breathe in all the ash floating around," He said.  He gave me that smile that I would soon grow so accustomed to.  The smile that would tell me everything will be alright no matter the circumstances.  Finally, he reached his arm under my legs and stressed to lift me up.  I could hear his bones aching under the weight my little, starved body added.  He seemed to strain a little bit with this added weight.  "He must not have eaten in a long time either," I thought.

Once he began walking, I couldn't keep my gaze from his face.  He continually glanced down at me and each time he did, it was accompanied by that soft, comforting smile.  Each time I received that smile, I felt the vice of death loosen more and more, and the comforting one he had placed about my heart grow stronger.  Soon, though, the steady, rhythmic rocking of his steps began to lull me into a sleep much like the one my father used to rock me into when I would lapse into a fit, and this was one that I tried desperately to fight while He carried me away.

I fought the sleep my body so desperately craved from me for one reason and one reason only; I had my own personal sense of security back now; I had someone to protect me again, and that meant one thing. . . The vise of darkness had it's grip of terror over me once again. . .