Life never stops

Murdered. Her hair was black and so were her eyes. Stabbed right in her heart, not usually one of her vulnerable spots.

It happened on a well-known street, the murder, inside a fine clothing store, amid hustle and bustle. Hysteria as she fell ... perhaps.

Azriel. I knew her. Yes. She'd been a friend of mine. Azriel. Rich and lovely to behold. Most of all she longed for death. I know that now. She invited it. A release from the pain of living. Her dark red blood coursed through the pavement veins sweeter than life itself.

But I remembered Azriel pretty well. She wanted to know everything, one of those kind, humble, ever listening, and sweet, yes, very sweet. I remembered her. Sure. Ironic, that doe of a girl slain and then the tragedy of her family's delusions. Perhaps ...

I was right about one thing. When we are forgotten, we cease to exist. I forgot about her. I forgot that she'd been murdered. Azriel. I guess I forgot that she'd ever been alive.

The world changes, we do not, there lies the irony that finally kills us.

Locked together in hatred. But you can't hate me, Azriel. Azriel my love, you was mortal to me. I gave you my immortal kiss and I became your mother, and your father, and so you are mine forever.