I know you may be wondering how you happened to come across this letter in a darkness not of your own. Your eyes scan feverishly across these blank pages as my voice pierces through the air as though you are hearing me for the first time over a dying intercom.
Welcome to your new home. Don’t fear the hellish growling in the distance. Those hounds only bite on my command.
I can sense your anger and confusion, but I just need you to breathe. Otherwise, you risk an early death.
Recently, you left the confines of your home and decided to speak with me directly. Your boldness has always been beautiful. I met you under rupturing stars Friday night, tucked tightly in a tent barely big enough for the both of us. As the temperature dropped, the space between us condensed with raw heat. I needed you to feel me as much as I needed to feel you. The chilling wind whistled through the branches above us, which lulled us both into an entrancing sleep. You have been so tired lately, so as I woke before you, I watched you sleep.
I have loved you patiently, more so even now.
I have fallen for you time and time again, but never have you risen to the occasion for me.
As I caressed your sunken cheeks, it somewhat pained me to know, that upon your rising, you would have to drop to your knees before me. You knew it was inevitable. Your fear was never a match to my knowing. Your pain was never greater than the power of my healing. You have been tucked away into a darkness of your own creation for far too long. How silly of you to get so comfortable.
Morning came and the sun bared its face. With nowhere to hide, you fought as much as you could at the sight of me. I couldn’t bare to see you struggle, but luckily for me, your surrender came faster than I expected. You passed out shortly after.
Now that you are awake, again I say, welcome to a wild unknown.
Settle into my hell and I will grant you heaven.