The wind blew through the mans long, dirty hair and his eyes teared as the scarring winds whipped at his blood-soaked face. He wondered what it was like to die. Was it quick and painless, or did it stab you like a thousand daggers until there was nothing left? He would soon find out, he thought. All had faded since he had lost his beloved; the world and his life didnt seem to matter.

Dinell was a simple man with a simple past. Growing up on the plains with his family all those years ago, he wanted nothing more than a simple, happy life. Recent times had dismantled everything he had ever wanted, ever dreamed. He lay dying on the battle field when the nobles found him, butchered, a broken heap of a man living out the last moments of his life in a puddle of his own mistakes. Why did it have to be this way? The kid had such potential. The sting of that statement was all too real to Dinell, because he knew that he couldve been so much more. No, thats not how it iscouldve ever been. We are doomed to the fate we make, and Dinell was doomed to fail, at his dreams, at his goals, at his life.

 "Agh! Where am I? How did I get here? God..." he managed to puke out before collapsing from the pain. Everything was black, but he could tell he was not alone. Nothingness surrounded him, and stalking shadows circled in the dark. He knelt on the ground, bleeding from the nose and ears, yet he felt at home. There was something familiar about being in pain, and it made him sick to his stomach. It was like being in a room full of people, and the only person he knew was his worst enemy. A kind of bittersweet comfort. It didnt matter. He was alone now. He sat up again in the pool of blood and shouted into the darkness.

"Bastards! All of you!" He crawled to his feet, muttering profanities at the shadows beyond. "Leave me now! Let me go!" The dark images swirled around him, taunting him with their graceful movements, never letting themselves be seen. "Leave me!" he screamed, dropping to his knees and covering his face with his hands. Keeping them there but a moment, he withdrew them to see a pool of black blood pouring out of his face. It bubbled and seemed to boil out of his hands. A ghostly face appeared in the blood, crying out towards Dinell, and then slinking back again. He cried out and wiped his hands on his dirty tunic. Looking up again, he saw that the shadows had left, but were not gone. Something within him told him that they were there, always.

Among the blackness and blood was a small light Dinell had not noticed before. It shone through the void into his swollen face and he squinted to avoid being blinded. Putting his hand in front of him to shield his eyes, Dinell stumbled towards the light, which hung above the ground as though on a wall. He drew closer and his eyes adjusted to the light, allowing him to put his hand down. He stepped up and stared at the sphere. Keeping his eye on the light, he stepped in a circle around the anomaly. Seeing no source for the light, and feeling no heat coming from it, he put his hand out and touched the sphere.

Dinell closed his eyes as the pain shot through his body. He could feel his hair erupt and his skin bubbling and melting off of his bones. He fell to his knees and screamed as his eyes burst in his skull. His screaming became increasingly shrill as he felt his stomach pop and his heart explode within his ribcage. The shrieking of the tortured man echoed through the black chasm.

Dinell opened his eyes and saw nothing but green. The pain of his wounds was gone, the blood and bruises a memory to him. Dinell took his hands away from his face and looked up at the blazing yellow sun and the clear blue sky that stretched to the forest to his left. In front of him was a simple wooded cabin in the middle of a glistening field of grass and soil. By a small stone well stood a woman, silent and still. Her back was facing Dinell, but he knew it was his beloved. He tumbled clumsily at what was his home, towards the dark haired woman who was his only love.

"Lily..." he choked out, sounding but a whisper due to his fluttering heart. It had been so long since she had died; he missed her so much. Why did she have to leave me? Its all my fault! MY FAULT! His mind raked at him. His steps were getting further away as his mind spun. The world became a twirling haze by the time he reached out and touched her shoulder. She was stiff and cold, but empty and light as though she were made out of straw. Her body spun around, noosed to some unknown branch, slowly revealing her featureless face. It was like a ball of flesh-colored dough atop her shoulders, her long hair hanging over eyes that never were and would never be. A tear ran down Dinells cheek as he recoiled his hand and took a step away from the lifeless figure. The clouds were moving faster now. Gray and black smears of dread swirled above them as the life and color of his surroundings went gray. The trees and rooftop flickered as though they were trying to escape the terror that was their reality.

There was a faint laughing, Dinell thought. Maybe it was screaming. He looked again at the figure that was his Lily. He could tell she was no longer featureless, but he could only see shadows behind the long hair that concealed her face. The once beautifully tailored dress she had been wearing was now tattered and dirty from being dragged through the dirt of a thousand pointless struggles. Her body seemed to hover off of the ground, but never moved from the point Dinell had placed her. Before another tear could roll down his cheek, she whipped back her hair and revealed the face he could only hope was a nightmare. It was the face of evil, a perverted mirror of the purest thing in his life. Her jaw hung loose from her skull in an eternal scream; her nose was broken and gnarled, an endless hole in her head. Worst of all were her eyes; two black holes as deep as they were horrible. She gazed at Dinell, who was now sobbing tears of blood.

The blood did not just seep down Dinells face; it erupted in a fountain of crimson terror. He could not tell whether he was screaming or weeping, only that in his pathetic tortured state, he wished he would finally die. He looked up again. Two black holes and that horrid jaw... leaning over him. Dinell wanted to cry. For the first time in his life, he wanted to cry. Dinell did not cry as a child, nor when his mother had died, nor when he had carried his fathers ashes through that beaten forest path. But now, he wanted to cry, that ghastly figure; an embodiment of everything he had done to her.

"No, thats not right... not what Ive done to her. What shes done to me." He looked up one last time, expecting to see the corpse, but he saw only gray. A dim light shone from somewhere by his feet... "How did I get tied to this table?" Dinell struggled against the leather straps that held him to the cold, metal table. His shirt and shoes were gone, leaving him bare-chested and alone. His head was also tied down, but he managed to tilt it up enough to see a small table next to him. An assortment of small blades and corkscrews lined the table, their gleam a beastly smile in an otherwise shadowed room, serrated daggers, scalpels, hooks, some things so horrible and obscure that their descriptions were lost to him. Only one purpose could come from these tools: torture.

I miss her so. Those starry eyes, that flowing black hair, those perfect lips. When she had died, I had felt so guilty, so responsible. How did she die, again? Funny how I cant remember. I know she's gone... but how? It was I, wasnt it Lily? I pushed you to death. I poked and prodded and smothered until there was nothing left. Oh, how brave you were to stay with me. I was so horrible to you, wasn't I? So inhumane. You deserved better.

If all this is true, then why can't I remember any of it? I was always good to you. I always treated you like a princess. Then why is it my fault? Why do I torture myself for mistreating you when I never did? I remember... the day you left. You told me you knew it would never work out between us, that it was just too complicated. You didnt die. You left me. You left me after my father died. You told me why you wanted to leave. You convinced me it was my fault. You were always so good at shifting the blame. You told me you didnt like me anymore. I remember my heart breaking and my life come crashing down when you told me you had never loved me.

Dinells thoughts were cut short by a distant tapping. It sounded like a mouse walking across steel, but carried far too much weight to be a rodent. Click click click. The sound got closer and louder. Dinells heart raced. He jerked his head and struggled against the leather straps that bound him.

"Hello?" he screamed to the noise behind him. "Whos there? Help me!" Louder and louder the clicking got, now not like pinpricks but daggers against metal. Closer and closer it got to Dinell, helplessly flailing on the table. It was close now. Click click... closer now... click click... next to his head... CLICK CLICK... on top of him!

The sounds stopped just short of the table. Dinell struggled and failed again against the restraints on his head, desperately seeking a glimpse of what cast the shadow down upon him. Sweat rolled down his face, heart pounding faster than he had ever felt. The shadow grew. Something stood behind him, leaning in for closer inspection. Dinells eyes scanned above him, waiting for the beast that stalked him. The creature leaned its head over him.

Except it was no creature, no horrible phantasm or shadowed demon, only a slender woman, with high cheekbones, a cute little nose, those perfect lips, that long, flowing, deep black hair...

The figure leaning over his face could only be his once beloved Lily. A sudden wave of relief swept over Dinell. With color slowly returning to his pale face, he said,

"Lily! Thank god! Help me! Help me out of these straps!" She smirked, silently staring into Dinells eyes. "Hurry! You must make haste! Something else is out there, some creature..."

"There is no one else Dinell. We are alone..." Lily interrupted. Her voice sounded calm, but queer, like a tree covered with cicadas.  "But then again, weve always been alone." She ran her hand across his forehead. Her skin was ice cold, her touch gentle yet unsettling.

"Lily, what are you talking about? Get me out..." Dinell stopped short. Lily stepped away from the table... click click... rounded the tray of instruments... click click... and came to a stop at Dinells feet. This was not the Lily Dinell remembered. Any normal person would stand at shoulder height with the table. Lilly towered over it, nearly twelve feet tall. But she did not stand on long, shapely, feminine legs. She stood, lurching over the table, on eight metallic spikes. Connected to her torso like a spider, the sharpened appendages clicked the ground beneath her. Metal plates were bolted to her chest and back to support the massive framework. Her upper body was still Lily. The slender arms and beautiful face. All else on her body had become an intricate pattern of metal and flesh. Bits of skin peaked out from metal bracing, and steel spikes jutted out of healthy flesh. She leaned over the table like a vulture. With wide eyes, Dinell could only gaze frightfully into the gaze of his one true love.

"Such a pitiful site you are Dinell. So pathetic! How could such a sad little worm come across an angel like me?" Lily smiled, revealing rows of gleaming, shark-like teeth.

"Lily..."

"How can you live with yourself after what you put me through. You always were pathetic! How could you not have known that I would leave? It was so obvious!" Lily taunted. Dinell finally gathered the courage to speak.

"No, Lily. I always loved you. I always had hope that we would be all right. Sure, we had no money, but I wouldve stayed with you until the end..." Lily glared and smiled again.

"So, the maggot speaks!" Every word she spoke was poison to Dinell. The only person he had ever loved, saying these horrible things. "Well, I can't have you interrupting me, now can I?" With that, she lashed out at Dinell, grabbing hold of his throat. He struggled, but could not escape her unrelenting grasp. She squeezed tighter until her nails penetrated flesh. With a quick yank, he felt her tear out his throat, bathing Dinell in crimson life. With a smirk, she tossed the hunk of meat on the wall behind her. Dinell tried to scream, but only salty blood came forth. Smiling again, Lily proceeded.

"Much better. If only I had done that years ago." She licked the blood off of her hand. "You were always such a bother, Dinell. Im surprised I didnt leave long before I did." She seemed a teacher, lecturing him for a poor assignment. "You think we were so perfect," she continued, picking up a scalpel from the tray. She held it before her face, reflecting that unknown light. "Truth is, Dinell, I never really loved you."

With that, she pressed the tip of the scalpel into the middle of his chest. Slowly, she slid the blade down, leaving a line of blood and broken flesh all the way down his stomach.

"You were never really my type, you know. I never meant for us to get that involved. Why did you have to get so attached Dinell? I just wanted to have a little fun!" She made another incision, this one across the collarbones, forming a T of blood in his chest. The table was dripping now, each one of Lilys clicks splashing on the floor. She made her last slice, across his belly. The pain was excruciating. "Now the fun will begin."

Her grin... that horrible metallic grin. Her razor teeth formed rows of triangles in her skull, reflecting the pale nothingness of Dinell. She leaned closer, sticking her delicate hand into the stomach incision. Then, the other hand on the opposite side. With the glee of a child unwrapping a gift, Lilly slowly unwrapped Dinell. His eyes rolled back in his head as he soaked in the exquisite agony. He could tell by the look on Lilys face that she felt the agony, too, but found pleasure in Dinells suffering.

"I never meant to hurt you, Dinell. Honestly. You were just another pretty face to me. I figured if I stayed with you long enough, you might eventually make something of yourself, take me somewhere, show me something!" She reached in and pulled out what looked like sausage, leaving his stomach screaming in pain.

"But no. You didnt take me anywhere, never made anything of yourself, never bought me fancy things." She pulled out something brown and slimy, tearing it to shreds. "And all the while did nothing but bother me with poems and stories your wrote. What a fool!" She reached in and he felt his stomach collapse. "You were nothing to me." Such pain... "Such a worm." One more yank...

At last, there was nothing else for her to ruin. That was it. Dinell could feel no more pain, know no more suffering. As she ripped him apart physically, her words tore him apart from the inside out. He began to wonder what happened to Lily. Such a sweet, innocent girl, now driven on the pain of a long lost love. Maybe she had been brainwashed...

Another blinding jolt of pain.

Maybe he had changed...

His torso was a red-hot furnace, burning him alive...

No. He hadnt changed. Neither had she. It was a game. It had always been a game... at least to her. Dinell began to remember:

They had met last spring, at a banquet near the town Dinell grew up in. He walked her home, and on a forest path under the shining moon, they shared their first kiss. It had been the most romantic moment of Dinells young life. The moment was eternity in an instant, and it was then Dinell knew he loved her.

Lily moved into Dinells home, a small cottage in the woods. They lived happily for several months, Dinells love growing all the while. There wasnt a person he would rather be with. Lilly was that one person that lifted his spirits and motivated him to succeed. Lily shared with him her dreams of the future, promising her unconditional love to Dinell

Rumor grew in town of a country woman, with silky black hair, that took men into her home and slept with them. Infuriated, Dinell confronted Lily. With placid emotions, she admitted everything, seeming proud of her deeds. She told him that it had been going on ever since they had met, and told him that she had never really loved him. In blind anger, Lily left his home, screaming about how it was all his fault. Emotionally shattered and isolated, Dinell lost all will to live. Shortly after Lily left, he joined a local militia and prepared for a campaign. In mid-battle, Dinell dropped his sword and threw himself upon an enemy spear. His body lay on the field for weeks, rotting slowly amidst a thousand random souls.

"I died..." With this, the harshest of realizations, he sat up, no longer bound to a table, no longer gored, no longer being torn apart by his one time love. He stood, in those same tattered clothes, in that same all too familiar darkness. Though this time, he was not afraid at all of the shadows that lurked beyond.

Dinell understood. He had died. Where he was now, he could not say. Only now he understood his life, and every misery that his soul could not let go. This was not heaven... if there were such a place. Nor was it hell. He had not been brought here to be tortured, for his mind had been tortured to insanity. No, not insanity. Blaming oneself for their misery is not insane, but the very essence of guilt. So he stood now, within his own mind, remembering the countless failures and forced guilt, all to heal, so that his soul may rest.

"I understand." Dinell said to the shadows, though they already knew. The swirling phantom approached Dinell, like a puff of smoke in the wind. It swirled around him, engulfing his body, tracing every inch and seeping into every pore. But Dinell was not afraid. The figure tingled his senses, leaving a calming bliss he had never felt before. Dinells hair blew back as the figure pulsed through him. No pressure had ever been greater to Dinell, but still it felt marvelous. With silent grace, the phantom swirled around Dinell once more, then was gone, finally releasing his soul from the world of darkness.