Emily: "Do you want to come in for a while? We have actual furniture now. It's nothing special, but you can sit on it."
Tristan: "I can't wait to see what you two have done to the place."
Emily: "The less you expect, the better."
Tristan: "Considering there wasn't any furniture before, I'm sure it's an improvement."

Though she was getting better at it each time, it still took Emily several minutes to undo the half dozen locks. The hardest part was finding the correct key in the near total darkness. Finally, the door swung open inward with a dramatic creaking that echoed somewhat less than it had previously.

Emily: "Well, what do you think? Be brutally honest, a laugh will do me good."
Tristan: "It's very post-modern. I like it."
Emily: "I swear, when this demon wedding fiasco is over that wallpaper is coming down. Oh! That reminds me! I wanted to show you something."

With a wide smile Emily grabbed Tristan's hand without hesitation, leading him up the narrow staircase and to her room. She pushed the door open fully with a dramatic flourish, reaching blindly for the light switch. The smell of fresh paint was strong, but not overpowering.

Tristan: "This is… wow. I can't believe this is the same room!"
Emily: "A bit of cheap paint can work miracles. What I really wanted to show you was my sewing machine."
Tristan: "Your sewing machine?"
Emily: "Yep. It was my grandmother's. She left it to me after she died, but until now I didn't really have anywhere to put it. I made a few phone calls and was able to have it delivered just a few days ago. I really wanted to show it to you because it's an antique and… um..."

Tristan: "I am as well?"
Emily: "Oh no, that's not what I meant at all!"
Tristan: "Relax, I'm hardly offended. It's really beautiful, Emily."
Emily: "I think it was made around 1908 or so."
Tristan: "1908…"

Emily watched curiously as Tristan reached out and tentatively touched the ornately carved wood. He seemed miles away, lost in a distant and faded memory.

Emily: "I remember my grandmother using it when I was growing up. It belonged to her mother before that, and since my own mom never wanted to have anything to do with sewing, it was left to me. I just wanted to show you because it's something special to me I guess. Now I feel a little silly."
Tristan: "Don't feel silly, I'm glad you did."

Emily: "So that's about it really. Did you want anything to drink? Eat?"
Tristan: "I want to kiss you."
Emily: "You want… what?"

Before Emily had a chance to consciously register the words, Tristan had taken her into his arms and was kissing her deeply. It felt familiar and comforting, and before he could pull away she brought him closer, eagerly returning his kiss.

There was no resistance, and the world around them seemed to dissolve away to nothingness. It was her dreams played out in reality, fractions of time repeating and coming together in sharp focus.

It was everything she'd ever wanted, everything she'd dared hope for. Each touch, each kiss, was more intoxicating than the last. She felt consumed by her desires and did nothing to hold them back. Without a word they fell together onto her bed.

In his eyes she saw a flash of the demon inside, normally so carefully restrained now allowed a small taste of freedom. The primal fear it stirred inside her was more thrilling than anything she'd ever known before, as though a fire had been ignited and was now burning her from the inside.

She tore blindly at clothing, wanting only to be rid of the last of the barriers between them. The touch of his skin against hers was like crackling electricity, wild and invigorating. She wanted to melt into him, to become a part of him, to share herself with him completely.

Deep in her mind, Emily felt something break.

A blind panic gripped at her, confusing images overlapping one another in a cacophony of despair and fury. He would devour her, take everything she was and turn it into little more than a hollow mockery. She would be lost forever in her own silence, nothing left at all if she allowed herself open up again.

Emily: "Stop…"
Tristan: "What?"
Emily: "I can't do this… please."
Tristan: "Emily?"
Emily: "Please don't. I'm not ready…"

She choked back a strangled sob as Tristan quickly pulled away from her, looking equally confused and concerned.

Tristan: "I'm sorry, I thought…"
Emily: "I'm so sorry, Tristan. I can't do this, it's too much."

Emily pulled on her shirt with shaking hands, drawing the sleeves down as far as they could go. She seemed to fold in on herself in an attempt to disappear into nonexistence. Tristan said nothing, merely giving her time to collect herself. Finally, she drew a deep and shuddering breath.

Tristan: "Talk to me, please."
Emily: "I'm not ready for this, for any sort of relationship. I'm still really messed up."
Tristan: "I should have realized. I didn't mean to rush you into anything. If you need time…"
Emily: "I'm never going to be ready, Tristan. I can't go through that again."

Tristan was quiet, carefully expressionless in the subdued light.

Emily: "I'm so sorry."
Tristan: "Do you honestly think I could even be capable of doing something like that to you?"

Emily: "That's not fair."
Tristan: "No it's not, is it? You don't even give me a chance. Not everyone wants to fuck with your head, Emily. Some of us do honestly care about you."

Emily: "You have no idea what I went through."
Tristan: "No, I don't. Not exactly. But it doesn't take too much imagination to put some of it together. You opened yourself up to the wrong person, I get that. It doesn't mean that everyone's out to get you."
Emily: "I can't take that chance. I can't do it."

Emily unconsciously flinched as Tristan stood up and put his undershirt back on.

Tristan: "I'm not asking you to do something you don't want to, I understand that it takes time to get over what you went through-"
Emily: "I'm not going to just 'get over' what happened, Tristan. Not now, not in six more months, not ever."
Tristan: "So that's it then, is it. You're just giving up?"
Emily: "I'm not giving up."
Tristan: "You could have fooled me."

Emily: "Well I'm sorry I'm not being more accommodating to your needs."
Tristan: "This isn't about me, it's about you. What about what you want out of life? Are you going to just throw all that away?"
Emily: "How can you possibly know what I want out of life?"

Tristan: "Because I know you, and this isn't who you are. Jesus, Emily, you weren't afraid to stand up to Death incarnate when you thought Mary was in trouble, I don't know why you're letting one mortal with a few mental issues beat you."
Emily: "What did you just say?"

Emily felt a wave of deep unease as Tristan's expression darkened. He looked utterly alone, a man weighted by an unseen burden.

Tristan: "You know what, forget it, ok? I'll leave you alone if that's what you want. I'm really sorry about this. For all of it."

Emily watched in silence as Tristan grabbed the last of his clothes before he turned and left. The sound of the front door slamming closed was jolting, yet she remained frozen in place. It wasn't until she heard the sound of his car driving away that she dared move, closing the door of her bedroom as though in a trance.

Her head was beginning to pound, eclipsed only by the ache she felt deep in her heart. She gathered the pain into a tight ball, pushing it down below the rage that continued to build inside her. She lay in bed, staring blankly at the dreary walls and trying to ignore the lingering scent of cinnamon on her hair and sheets. When Mary returned a short time later, she pretended to be asleep.