How she sees the world

The town is desolate.

It's so small as to be as such even on it's busiest day.  The houses creak and groan from age. The wind passes through them like a dark thought, creeping inside your skull.

You've lived a lonely life. No paintings on the walls, nothing personal laying around. You do your rounds, barely sleeping.

Your house is silent, no children, no husband. You force yourself to go through the motions. The last time you were killed, they brought you back. I'm guessing you wished they hadn't.

Your life isn't your own. You go through the motions, and as you do, every day, you wish he'd come back and finish the job. But you know damn well they'll just keep bringing you back. Over and over. Because you're their savior. Their symbol of hope. You see the world as a penance, what have you done to deserve such a fate. You see everything in the village, even the invisible bars of your self imposed prison.

You're just what I need to impress him.

You'd think your reflexes would've improved by now, but they haven't. The dreaded duties you're forced to perfom keep you dulled beyond compare.

I watch over you as you fall asleep. I can almost tell that every time you close your eyes, you wish it was the last time.

The point pushes against the soft skin, parting it aside to allow the metallic intruder access to your circulatory system.  The poison is slowly injected, a soft gel I add to it prevents the burning sensation you often get from such chemicals. You barely feel a thing. And soon enough, you feel nothing at all.

The poison finds your body, sings it to sleep, it's deadly lullaby coursing through your heart, lungs, brain.

I wish I had more time. I wish I could've had a precious moment with you, taste you while death takes you in for a weekend.

But you're schedule is too tight. In a few hours, they'll come for you because you won't be out there, patrolling.

The priest will be summoned, promptly, and you'll be ressurected, put back in action.

The sad part is, you're the first person I can empathize with. Emotions get in the way, you understood that the moment a knife found it's way to your insides, only to be brougth back as if nothing happened the day after. Sure, they offered you time off, but that's not who you are. They've done such a good job on you that you can't even think of something better to do than defending this spec of dust of a village.

For now, enjoy your night off.

The world will turn without you for a night, and it'll still be there in the morning to be, forever more, watched over.