For Those Whom I Have Sinned Against

He was always around. I knew he was nearby now: I could feel his presence coming like a train into a station. All around me voices of my past friends-the victims of my transgressions- yelled. Their voices piercing my mental defense system making me want to scream, “I’m sorry. Forgive me.” I didn’t. I swallowed my words and held back my tears. Then, he was here.
His dark presence filled the room, suffocation the previous ones that had dominated it. He stood full of confidence, though he was shorter than anyone in the room. His lithe intensive stance made him tower above us all. He didn’t say a word, only looked at my “friends,” until one by one they left the room eyes lowered and tails down. I could still feel their hatred for me radiating from them as they passed me on their way out the door; none of them dared breath a word. I watched each one leave, never meeting their eyes, the whole time lyrics from a song she once heard rang in her ears ‘for those whom I have sinned against, evil plans against me vow. With wicked pleasure revenge licks her lips. Two soul she’s captured now.’
After a moment of strained silence in the now empty room, I dared a look at the one I had hurt the most. I willed him to yell or scream anything to take away his silence; a silence I had once found soothing. He was always calm and silent, no matter what the circumstances. When he did speak his melodious voice would fill the room, quickly dispelling all other sounds. His words were mesmerizing, holding wisdom well beyond his twenty-one years.
I yearned to look into his beautiful green-grey eyes, but I was afraid of what I would find there. I focused, instead, on his upper chest. He was well built, muscular, yet lithe. He wore a black sleeveless top with a dusky jacket that covered his strong arms-arms that once held me. His grey-white pallor contrasted greatly with that of his clothing, giving him the look of death. His features fit his stature, small and strong, making the focus of his face his large eyes. I am entranced by his lips, beautifully pink but they pressed into a thin line and turned down edges. I guess that got his point across.
I walked past him and out the side door, expecting him to grab my arm and start throwing harsh words at me. He didn’t. I sat on the shaded cement balcony, letting the cot tears streak down my cheeks and burn into my ice-ridden heart. He appeared a few feet from me and sat, casually leaning against the wall. I knew he was watching me, but shamefully I hid my face. “You should leave,” I said bitterly into my arms, hopefully muffling the ice that dilled my words. “You should leave; the others have.” I wept more as he stood fearing he truly would leave me. But he sat again only inches from my body, his mouth near my ear and his warm breath on my cool skin.
“There is no one who does not carry scares on their hearts. If there was a person such as that, they would be a shallow soul.” His rich alto voice rang in my ears, his words etching themselves into my heart. He was right. I had made the wrong decision that had cost me my friends, my family, the one I cared most about. More tears slipped off my face as the warmth from his closeness faded away. I lifted my head, desperately willing his warmth back into my icy exterior. He was gone. As I knew he would be. He would not be returning again.