"I think I could kill myself tonight," she said to me, as we walked through the theatre district together, slowly making our way from one end of Randolf avenue to the other. Sweet, beautiful Tasha with her enchanting smile and eyes that burned with an icy blue fire. Naive, emotional. obsessive Tasha, who threw caution to the wind, and was destined for pain.

"Don't, my love," I replied, leaning in close to her and caressing her face as she pressed her head softly against my shoulder.

"I can't bear the thought of another day, Damon."

"Shh... quiet now." I soothed. "Don't even think of such horrible things."

Oh, if only I could have seen into the future. If only I had taken her seriously that night.

This is a story about love. It is a story about sorrow. But mostly it is about the madness that lurks just beneath the surface of every human mind, and the damage that such madness can cause when it is allowed to manifest itself. I lay here as I write this, knowing that I may very well never rise again. My time on the earth is running out. They say that if we fail to learn from our mistakes the first time around we are destined to repeat them in the next life. I hope that it is true. For I would gladly die a thousand times over for the chance to re-live the mistake of bringing Tasha into my life.

The first time that I saw her, I was sitting in a bar with my best friend, Brent, causally sipping a glass of some cheap wine, looking around and making eye contact with the women who glanced my way. Brent poked me in the shoulder.

"You know, I don't understand what they see in you," he said. "You're not particularly tall, you're skinny as a rail without a trace of muscle, and in fact, with your dark clothes and perpetually harsh demeanor, I'd even go so far as to say you look downright evil at times. And yet beautiful women seem to be drawn to you like a magnet. I can't pretend to understand it."

"It's the lure of the unknown," I replied. "I represent something that these women lust for. Danger, excitement---"

"You're full of shit." Brent burst out laughing and it was hard for me to keep from grinning as well. His jovial temperament was sharply in contrast to my rapier wit, dry sense of humor, and sometimes scathing tongue. Perhaps that is why we got along so well.

Brent was my best and perhaps only true friend in the world. We had known each other since childhood and probably knew each other better than we knew ourselves. Brent sometimes knew what was on my mind even before I did, and that was saying something. He was several inches taller than me, of a heavier build, and light of hair and eyes. He was boisterous and outgoing, whereas I've always been more reserved and quiet.

We were in the habit of going downtown every Friday night and hanging out at the local clubs and bars, watching so-so bands perform to lackluster crowds and drinking just until we were buzzed enough to consider the whole arrangement fun. Sometimes we were lucky enough to find a girl or two to take home, other times we went home alone, but either way, every Friday night would find us hanging out with nothing better to do.

But the night that I met Tasha I will never forget. It was later in the evening, and Brent and I were just about to call it a night when Brent caught my eye and motioned to a girl sitting by herself on the other side of the room. "That girl's been watching you for some time," he whispered conspiratorially. "I think she's starting to get upset that you haven't even so much as glanced her way once all night."

"Oh, I'm sure that's not the case at all..." My words died on my lips as I looked over to where Brent had pointed. There was nothing remarkable about the girl as far as looks went. She looked no better and no worse than the average young girl you would find at a crummy bar on a Friday night. Straight dark hair of a moderate length, medium height, average build... but then she looked straight at me and I found myself being drawn into her eyes in a way that I never had been before. Something in her gaze caught me and ensnared me. I found myself struggling to look away, but I couldn't. In that single moment I fell for her.

Brent rudely poked me again. "How long are you going to sit there staring at her?"

And so began my relationship with Tasha. We talked at the bar that night, and she came home with me. I never knew what exactly it was about me that attracted her so, but there were sparks between us nonetheless. I felt for her in ways that I had never felt for any woman before. For me, the stars shone in her eyes, and the rest of the world ceased to exist when we were together. She never quite let herself feel the same way about me. She loved me, in her own way, but she was always holding herself back, as if she were afraid of letting go of something. I learned to live around it.

My family had old money, and I grew up in a huge old house, never wanting for anything of monetary value. My childhood was easy enough. My parents were usually away on some vacation overseas or another. Brent was my only childhood friend. His family lived down the street from mine and he and I were constant companions. I never went to collage, and I never had to worry about working a day in my life. When I was 19, my parents were killed in an automobile accident, and I inherited the house and everything in it, along with all of the money that I could ever want.

I had always thought that my world was perfect. I didn't have to work. I had everything that I could ever want. I could go anywhere I wanted to whenever I pleased.I never for a moment imagined that anything might be missing from my life until I met Tasha.

Sometimes she would say to me "Doesn't your life ever get boring?"

I would laugh and ask her what would ever possess her to think such a thing.

"You've been all over the world but you've never really done anything with your life. It's been meaningless so far. Doesn't it ever bother you that if you were to die tomorrow, people would look back on your life and not be able to name one thing that you ever really accomplished? What do you have to be proud of? In what way can you honestly say that you have made this world a better place just by being here?"

Her questions meant nothing to me, and I would just make some off hand comment and dismiss them.

Tasha's lifestyle was vastly different from mine. She grew up with her mother. Her father left her mother when he found out she had become pregnant, and so Tasha grew up never knowing who her father was. Her mother had been an alcoholic and was often times abusive. When he mother died of a stoke, Tasha was 18, and she went off on her own. She was a talented writer, and found a job working for a magazine that paid enough money for her to live off of, but not enough for her to live the way that I did. The older she got, the more she became obsessed with finding her father. She believed that he was all she had left of her past. She would make up grand stories of who he was and how he was pining away for his long lost daughter.

Tasha tended to be quiet, like me. But her silence had pain and fear behind it. She was unhappy deep inside and I tried many ways to reach that sadness and help dissolve it. Her smile was to die to for, and I would have given her anything at all that she wished for if only to see her smile. But she smiled rarely, despite my best efforts. She spent whatever time she was not writing or out with me on her search to track down her missing father. But he search always seemed to lead her to a brick wall and she could never get more than a small clue at a time as to his identity and whereabouts. It nearly drove her mad.

It was a whirlwind romance at first. I took her all across Europe. We visited Paris, Rome, London, Munich, Venice. But neither the castles of Bavaria nor the alps of Switzerland could completely win Tasha's brittle heart, and even when she seemed happy, I could still sense some tragic sadness lurking somewhere beneath her quiet facade. Little did I knew, that there was something lurking inside of me that was infinitely more terrifying.

I promised Tasha everything that she could ever desire. Wealth, jewelry, trips. I asked her to marry me and she declined, claiming that she wasn't ready yet for such a commitment. I could wait. I had all the time in the world. I invited her to move in with me and live in a luxury that she had never known before, but this she also she declined. She said that she liked her life the way it was and saw no reason to rush into anything and make hasty decisions.

Once we went horse-back-riding on majestic Andalusians along the beach in Andalusia, Spain. Tasha reveled in the feel of the wind in her face as her horse galloped along the sand, and I smiled because I had finally found something that made her happy. She fell in love with an Andalusian stallion. He was the color of pure silver and his mane and tail were longer and fuller than any horse's that I had ever seen before. He was a creature of beauty and Tasha wanted him so badly. She had never before asked me to buy her anything, but she asked me to buy her that Stallion. We were cautioned against buying him. "He has a weak hock. He'll never be safe for any kind of jumping." But Tasha was adamant in her desire to own the stallion. "I'll never jump him," she said. "I just want him to ride for pleasure." So I bought him for her and found a stable close to where I lived to put him. Tasha adored that horse. She named him Regalo, which is Spanish for gift.

She would go out every day to ride him in a large pasture behind the boarding stable. How I loved watching her ride. It was the only time that I ever saw her truly happy. She and Regalo would fly with the birds, with nary a care in the world.

The one thing that worried me about the pasture was a sheer cliff at the edge that led down to the river about a hundred feet below. The only way to get to the opposite cliff on the other side was to cross a narrow bridge that spanned a distance that had to be close to fifty feet. I worried about her riding too close to the edge and slipping, but she assured me that she was careful to steer Regalo far away from it. I never chided her too much about it though. Riding was her passion and I couldn't bear to put a damper on her enjoyment.

And so the months passed. I had never had a reason to be jealous of anyone before. My relationships of the past had been short flings with little or no strings attached. Tasha was the first person that I had ever felt anything for that could even be considered akin to love. So I almost didn't know what it was until it was too late.

Tasha and I were in my bedroom one night. I was passionate about her. She could seduce me with a smile. But there were no smiles on her face that night and I felt a strange emotion take a hold of me. "It's someone else, isn't it?" I demanded, grabbing a hold of her wrist. "You won't give yourself to me because you're in love with someone else. Who is it, Tasha? And why are you here with me instead of out with him?"

A look of shock passed across Tasha's face. "There's no one else, how could accuse me of that? There's never been anyone else. I just don't feel right tonight. I have a lot on my mind. I should leave."

"You're lying, damn you!" I screamed. "You can't leave!." Uncontrollable anger welled up inside of me. I couldn't control it.

I felt my hand tighten around her wrist, and she cried out, but I ignored her.

"You're hurting me. Please stop." A white hot blinding rage filled my mind and I held on tighter, tighter, and I couldn't let go. Tasha screamed, and my other hand flew up and struck her across the face, hard, silencing her. When I drew my hand away, a trail of blood flowed down the back of it onto the floor. I could feel the wet stickiness of it on my skin, and it broke me out of the spell I had succumbed to. I released her wrist and she threw herself against the wall, sobbing.

What had I done? Oh God, what had I done?

The next weekend, Brent took me to a carnival just outside of town. Tasha had gone out to visit Regalo, and I had nothing better to do with my Saturday evening. I tried my hand at some of the games along the midway, trying to win a stuffed animal to bring home to Tasha, but I didn't seem to have much luck. "Let's have our fortunes told," Brent suggested, leading me towards a large multi-colored tent at the end of the midway that read "Madame Fane, Fortune-Teller.

"I don't believe in that nonsense, it's a waste of money," I said. "But you go ahead if you like."

"Oh, and you throwing away money on those stupid games that are rigged anyway is different?" Brent questioned. "What else is a carnival if not a waste of money? You're no fun anymore."

"All right," I sighed. "Why not?"

It was dark in the fortune teller's tent. Brent and I sat down at one side of a long rectangular table with the usual crystal ball in the middle of it. The lady sitting on the other side of the table looked about how I expected a fortune teller to look. She had long black hair and long dangling earrings, and was dressed in something akin to Joseph's coat of many colors, only in skirt form. Brent went first, and the fortune teller predicted the usual for him - fame, fortune, love... But then she looked at me, and her smile turned to a frown.

Uh-oh.

"There is evil somewhere deep inside you," the woman said, staring intently at me. "It is linked to someone you love very much. You must leave her."

"What? You're crazy, lady." I started to get up, but she hissed at me.

"Listen to me! I see nothing but sadness. There can be no solace for her. You cannot help her. That path will only lead to your destruction. And hers. I am sorry. I will not tell you more. You would not wish to see the rest. The decision is up to you."

I pulled Brent out of his chair. "Let's get the hell out of here," I exclaimed, throwing money on the table at the fortune teller. "This lady's nuts. I told you it was a waste of money."

We left, but the fortune teller's words rang in my ears the rest of that night, and for many days to follow.

I raped her one night. Once again the anger consumed me, so hot and so intoxicating that I couldn't see or hear or feel anything at all. In the morning I couldn't decide which of us was more insane. Myself, for what I had done, or Tasha, for coming back to me.

I was becoming a monster. Brent knew it, and he became angry with me. "What the hell's the matter with you?" He asked me one day. "I don't know who the hell you are anymore. You're like a snake, waiting to strike. I don't even want to hang out with you. You're brooding and miserable, just like that damn girlfriend of yours. Maybe I should just let you two be together and get out of your lives. God knows you were certainly made for each other."

I couldn't believe that my best friend would treat me like that. I went home and locked myself in my room and refused to come out for two days.

I took Tasha to see "Phantom of the Opera". It was a poor way to make amends for my behavior, but she agreed to go. I bought the most expensive tickets available and made reservations at a fancy restaurant downtown. I could tell throughout the meal that something was bothering her. Her mood was sullen, and she only spoke to me when I asked her a question. She sat through the show, but with a sense of impatience, almost as if she couldn't wait for it to be over with. She clapped in the appropriate places, but I knew at the end of the night that she hadn't enjoyed the dinner or the show. I took her for a walk through the theatre district, and we passed by the grand old buildings from days long gone. Tasha didn't notice them. She kept her eyes glued to the sidewalk, as if it would open up and swallow her at any given moment. She almost looked like she wished that it would. I waited for her to tell me what was bothering her. Asking would only make her close up even more. Finally, she sighed and took my arm.

"I found my father," she said.

"Oh love, that's wonderful," I replied. "When? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I didn't want you to know... not right away. I finally tracked him down and called him. He lives a few towns away, but he agreed to meet me last night. We met at the coffee shop down the street from where I live."

"And so what was he like?" I asked, "What he everything you expected?"

Tasha didn't look up. "No. He was not. He came in, and right away I knew who he was. He sat down and didn't even offer a hug, or a smile, or a handshake. He almost seemed angry. I didn't understand why. He told me that he has a wife and three children and that he is happy with his life. His family doesn't know I exist, and he doesn't want them to know. He doesn't want to be a part of my life. I'm a link to a past that he would much rather forget, he said."

She stopped walking and finally looked up at me. I could see the pain in her eyes. She was starting to cry.

"Does he think he's the only one who was hurt? Doesn't he understand the pain that I've been living with all these years? I have feelings too! How can he be so heartless as to not even wonder how I turned out, where I was all those years, if I was even still alive? I am his daughter, I am a part of him!"

"Oh love, sweet, dear, Tasha." I took her in my arms and held her for a long while. I didn't understand her father any more than she did. How could the world be so cruel to one as wonderful as her? She had never done anything to deserve such harsh rejection. I would have erased all of her memories of her past if I could have. It tore me up inside that I couldn't.

"I think I could kill myself tonight," she said. And oh, if only I could have foreseen the future.

She asked me the next day to accompany her to the stable for a visit with Regalo. The sun was smiling brightly down on the world, giving the false impression that all was content and right beneath its rays. Tasha rode her horse as if the two of them were joined. They moved like one animal, galloping effortlessly across the pasture, and I was taken in by the beauty of it all. Suddenly, Tasha pulled her stallion to a halt in front of me and looked out at the steep cliff at the end of the pasture leading down to the river. "I want to jump the river," she said.

"What?" I was shaken from my trance and pulled harshly back to reality by her words. "Why in heaven's name do you say that? The two cliffs must be fifty feet apart. No horse could jump that, or would willingly, even if they could."

"Regalo would, if I asked him."

What Tasha was saying didn't make any sense to me. "Regalo can't jump a log, let alone a huge chasm like that. His hock is too weak."

But Tasha was serious. She studied the gap between the two cliffs with nothing short of outright obsession. "I think he could do it. I have to try. I don't know why. But I must. It's a need that has been burning inside of me ever since the first time I rode Regalo here. It's going to continue to burn until I try. I can't resist it any longer."

"There is no way you would make it! It's suicidal to even think about something like that! Regalo won't jump it. He'll come to a dead halt in front of it and you'll both be thrown over the cliff! How can you be so stupid as to even consider it?" I knew that I was getting hysterical, but I couldn't stop myself. The mere thought of Tasha being in danger threw me into a panic. I had to talk her out of such nonsense!

Tasha was crying quietly then, and I reached up and put my hand over top of hers on the reins. "Come back to the stable, love. We'll put your horse away together and then we'll go out. Anywhere you want to go." I pulled gently on the right rein, and Regalo obediently turned towards me and away from the cliff. Tasha said nothing. She sat perfectly still as I slowly started walking her and her horse back to the barn.

Without warning, Tasha gave Regalo a swift kick with her left leg and yanked on her left rein, causing him to pivot to the left so suddenly that he hit me and knocked me off balance, tearing the rein out of my hands. Before I could so much as lift a hand to stop her, Tasha kicked Regalo again, and he shot forward towards the cliff at full speed. I screamed at her to stop, and I ran after them, but there was nothing else I could do. My heart was pounding as I watched them gallop closer and closer to the edge of the cliff. Regalo's legs worked furiously, faster, faster, until they were a blur in my vision. The edge of the cliff came up far too soon. I couldn't bear to watch. But I couldn't force my eyes to turn away. "Please don't stop now, you stupid beast," I prayed. The worst thing would be for the horse to stop this close to the edge...

Regalo didn't stop. He soared into the sky with power such as I never never seen before. He flew over the cliff like a horse with wings. It was a beautiful sight to see, beautiful but so terrifying at the same time. He started to descend... I prayed that he would make it to the other side. His front feet landed safely on the other cliff, and I screamed with triumph. But it quickly turned to a scream of horror. As Regalo's back hooves landed, his right hock trembled, and his back legs went out from under him. Tasha was thrown over his head as he fell. She landed a few feet away and both she and her horse were still.

The next thing I remember, Brent was beside me and I was sitting on the ground on the other side of the cliff, watching various people run around with a huge sense of detachment from the world. Tasha had died on impact. Her neck had been broken in the fall. I felt a huge emptiness inside of me. I was in a state of shock. It took all of my strength to remain breathing. I waited for the pain to fully set in.

The vet was kneeling down beside the horse, who was still alive, but had failed to make even an attempt to get up. He stood up and walked over to me. "I know this is a difficult time..." He said, stooping down on the ground beside me. "I just need your permission to put the horse down."

Brent scoffed at him. "Kill the damn monster," he said angrily, "Do you think anyone cares?"
"No!" I said. "No. He belonged to Tasha and she loved him. She would want him to live."
The vet ignored Brent and looked at me. "I don't think you fully understand the condition the horse is in," he explained. "His hock was weak to begin with, and I'm shocked that he was able to jump the way that he did. He should not have been able to jump even half that distance. But the landing was too much for his joints to take. The force of it shattered the bones in the hock. Shattered. They can't be repaired. They are just fragments of bone. Trying to save the horse at this point would be very expensive and--"

"Money is no option."

"Let me finish. Even if by some miracle he were to recover from the injury, he would never be able to run again and he would always be in some level of pain. There is no way to--"
I broke down at that point. "Fine, do it then. Destroy him. I've lost everything I've ever had, what importance is one horse to me now? Having him won't bring Tasha back."

"No, it won't." The vet took my hand sympathetically, then got up and started preparing the injection that would end Regalo's life. I turned away and wept.

Brent convinced me to go out with him that night, but I couldn't bear to go another smoky bar and watch the women flirt with me and listen to another mediocre band sing songs about love and broken relationships. I had to get out. I had to go far, far, away... away from pain, away from fear, away from people...
Numb, I ran blindly through the streets, ignoring the biting rain. The lights reflected in the pavement looked like rivers of blood flowing down into the darkness beneath my feet. The asphalt was slick, and several times I lost my footing, but somehow regained my balance and kept on going. On and on I ran, long into the night, heedless of any and all pain, until I could run no longer and I finally collapsed where I stood. I don't remember what happened after that.

"She's in a better place now," Brent said to me. We were sipping wine in the dinning room of my house one evening. "She would never have been happy in this world. There was too much sorrow here for her, too many bitter memories. The moment that horse's front feet left the ground they both ceased to be a part of this world. They were like gods after that, free spirits in an alter world that only a select few ever catch a glimpse of. There was no coming back here after they left, you know. She is where she wants to be now, and the sooner you can realize that the better off you'll be." I just looked over at him and fought back tears. No words came to me. What more was there to say?

So now I lay here, alone. Brent no longer comes by as often as he used to. Tasha is never coming back. I reach for the knife on the table beside me. I feel its smooth cold metal beneath my fingertips. I will use it. And when I come back, perhaps I will heed the fortune teller's advice. Perhaps I will leave her before it is too late. Yes, perhaps I will. And then I will go out in the world and make something of myself. I will do something that will make the world a better place. But not this time. My life, this life, is over...