"The black room took us in like a cave" - Maya

It was just what I wanted – walls painted black, even the windows, which were painted shut as well. They were covered with heavy curtains, but I pulled them back to check. No light. A single bulb dangled from the remnants of a long-discarded light fixture in the ceiling, but that was no problem. We didn’t have to turn it on. And we wouldn’t.

The black room took us in like a cave. I know what you’re thinking – like a womb. I don’t care. You can psychologize me all you want, it won’t matter. Black was what we wanted and black was what we got. We weren’t looking for airless or claustrophobic, so it was good that it was on the third floor an not, say, in the basement. Black and damp would have been too much for me. I’m allergic to mold anyway. In fact, it might have been a bright and airy room at onetime. Might be again. I wouldn’t want to be the one to paint over it or scrape off all that black paint, but that’s neither here nor there.

We had our little cave now. Our little sanctuary. Our refuge. I imagined it to be like an underground temple or a blank slate. We didn’t even need to bring much with us.

I’m sure you’re wondering why I did it. Well, you see, I didn’t know who he was when I met him. Or maybe I should say “what” he was. He was different – I could see that right away. I always was a sucker for different. And he moved fast. Those dark eyes that looked unflinchingly into mine – as though he wanted to see inside me. And did. And like who he found there.

He never lied to me. He just made sure I cared about him before he told me. All right, I’ll say it – I fell in love with him. Loved him. And he needed me, needed someone badly. He’d just arrived and wasn’t safe. He’d left his family – needed new territory, new blood, so to speak.

It’s not every day that someone promises you eternal life. Can’t you understand? Eternal life with someone you love and who loves you? I felt loved, anyway. I don’t know. I think he did love me.

So, I found the room. He promised he’d take me, turn me, once we settled in. He needed me to stay as I was to do the necessary business in daylight hours. Once we had a safe place it could happen. And it was perfect. I had the coffin moved in right away. He was so pleased. It was perfect.

How could I know he’d been followed from the old country? Tracked, like an animal. All they saw was trouble. Not his beauty, his kindness, his intense love. All they saw was danger. I didn’t. He’d explained it to me and it seemed doable. It seemed…okay. Does different have to mean bad? I’ve never thought so.

They’d waited till the sun went down and the coffin opened. Stakes in hand, they burst through the locked door – I don’t know how – and they killed him. God, they killed him. They’d have killed me, too, if he had turned me. But he hadn’t and they didn’t, obviously. They called me stupid, gullible, dangerous. They told me to leave before the police arrived. They were giving me a chance to start over. Then they left. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t just leave him like that.

Don’t you see? I could have run away and avoided all this, but I didn’t. I wanted to stay here in our cave, our sanctuary. I wanted to be with him forever.

Prompt: "The black room took us in like a cave." - Anne Sexton
6/7/08