she glittered like the face of a diamond in the dark. she was sitting at the table drinking her cafe latte and it didnt surprise me when she said i could sit down. she was like a darkness i had never known. so sad and so determined to see the darkness in everything around us. she was a princess. my gothic mistress. she smiled at me when i asked her how the weather had been. she said that it had been gloomy. as always. she said that it had been raining for days on end. she looked into my face and i still to this day do not know what she saw there. it frightened her though im sure. because i too had once been someone's someone. i too had once been a gothic mistress of the night. i too had once used excuses to cover up my absences from life. she could not justify why i was there with her. she was unable to encourage further conversation so i asked her, "what is it like?" she didnt know what to say. so instead she asked, "what, what is like?"i pulled up the sleeve of my arm and showed her the several hundred cuts along my once perfectly white arm. she nearly gasped at this hideous sight of self destruction. but she could not hide from me what she was really thinking. she was thinking of how survived and how she herself was on the verge of something as 'subtle' as suicide.
she was near to crying when i pulled the sleeve down again. she was ashamed of herself even though i do not know why. she looked up into my eyes and i saw her falseness had smeared across her face. she slowly but deliberately pulled up the sleeve of her left arm and showed me the almost identical several hundred cuts along her arm. i was afraid to smile at her predictability and so i did not. instead i bent over the table and kissed her arm gently without pausing to feel the scarred flesh under my lips. she shivered up her spine and i knew i had pleased her somehow. she felt understood. i looked at her eyes, her beautiful brown eyes. filled with a wetness that i envied because it had been so long since i myself had cried. i leaned over and looked at the article she was reading. it was about sex and orgasms. she was trying to think up ways to please her boyfriend before he hit her again. she was trying a little too hard i thought. looking in magazines that is. i took the magazine and threw it under the table. she knew my meaning and she sat up straight as if to defend her measly existence. i knew there was no need for that. so i put a hand over hers where it lay on the table. she shivered again as if my touch awoke things in her i cannot say i even had. i had become so emotionless throughout the years that i now looked like a statue of some sort. i suppose that is why she first looked at me with surprise lining her features. she was dark through and through. she cried at night when she was too exhuasted to sleep. she paced the bathroom when it was time to take that "at home" test. she was terrified of going on. so i leaned over again and i said, "it isnt all that bad once you fet to know who you really are." she searched my face for something relevant and did not find it. she kept on searhcing until i turned away to get something out of my bag i carried everywhere with me. it was a photo of me. of when i lay dying in the hospital from knife wounds and from overdoses and from various bruises that i cannot recall to this day. she took it from me and looked into the face of the young woman in the hospital bed and then back to mine before her. she saw no resemblance and felt hope rise within herself. she knew that had someone done it before her she could do it too. i carefully put the picture back in the bag and then i said one last thing. "life in all its beauty can be astounding, but a person realizing their own potential can be uplifting and inspirational." then i leaned across the table and gently brushed my lips across hers in the barest of caresses. she smiled at me and saluted me with her cafe latte and then i left without so much as an echoing of shoe upon tile. i could not say that she was happy after having met me because i really do not know. and i couldn't say that i know the difference between love and general likeness. but i do know that i had been as attracted to her as i would have been before my downfall and then my rise back to sanity. i had been compelled to help her and with that i did my deed of lending some advice and some healthy suggestions toward becoming a citizen again. we had met briefly and only i knew her name, her real name. it was mistress. a gothic mistress of the darkness of all things, and i also knew that without looking into her past there was deep regret there and i knew that she would do almost anything to overlook or to reverse that somehow. with those few words of wisdom that i knew, i know i instilled some hope within her and i somehow felt revived after our encounter.