The charred embers burn through the dark night, scarring those involved and enveloping their memories in a veil of dread. We do not speak of the events from the previous night in fear of reliving the piercing pain. The open wilderness brings more peace than the crowded city streets. I swear they all know. Their looks shoot through me and seem to mock my cowardice. I shy away from them all and their mockery. All except for one; the main reason I must suffer the way I am.

He kisses my eyes as the tears cover my cheeks with fresh streams before making their way off my face. I haven't spoken to him since the deed yet he has not left my side since. He whispers unbelievable promises to me, trying to cheer me up, but I do not want to smile.

I haven't eaten in four days, but my stomach as finally stopped its begging. Even if I were hungry, I doubt we could even get any food. The lonely desert isn't one of the best places to go shopping. Our clothes are stiff from dirt and grit that has clung to them over the past few days. Hair matted to our heads, we look as if we haven't seen civilization in years, but I don't know if we would be alive had it been that long.

"Please," he says, pushing a warm bottle of water into my hand. "Please, just take a sip."

I don't answer him. I don't even turn to acknowledge his request. I've heard starving is the worst way to die, so why not try when there seems no other option?

"I won't let you die out here," he seems to growl, unsurprisingly reading my mind. "Even if you refuse to talk to me, I'll find a way to get food, and water, into you. If I have to use force, I will."

I huff quietly, knowing I can be stubborn enough that he'll eventually give up. Sure, he'll try again, but I don't have to deal with that now.

He stares at me for what seems like hours before letting out an exasperated breath and closing the water bottle. His hollow stomach lets out a weak protest at the lack of water but he ignores it much like I did. We sit in an uncomfortable silence for a while. During the quiet, I think of my family. Where they are, what they think of me now, if they care what happened to me. The ideas my mind forms bring on a new wave of depression. Soon, normally welcoming arms wrap around me in a warm embrace. Yet I push him away, punishing myself for enjoying the short moment he was able to hold on to me. A killer doesn't deserve compassion. Not even when the one giving it is a monster as well. I move away from him, hoping to get the point across that I'm not in the mood.

The hot sun soon begins to set, leaving behind it nothing but a continuous humidity that cannot be escaped. The stars have not shown in the days we have been in the wild. Beside me, his soft snores bring me no more comfort than when he was awake. A lone howl can be heard somewhere across the desert but brings no fear to me, only awareness. I feel as if I am his guardian, never sleeping but yet never leaving his side. He has stayed with me through all of this so I feel I owe him that. But I don't know how long I can keep it up; his presence only reminds me of my unforgivable deed.

He calls out to me in his sleep, his hand reaching for some part of me in a whole other world. I grab it in mine briefly, only to calm him and prevent him from waking up just yet. The loneliness of the desert magnifies my pain, forcing me to suffer in it. Sleeping would only take me away from my punishment much too quickly.

-To Be Continued-