He was gorgeous. The epitome of tall dark and handsome. There was something in the way he moved, the gentle whisper of his beckoning voice, which was so familiar, yet so foreign. It is merely human nature to be attracted to the beautiful, the unknown possibilities. I looked at my current dance partner, swirling me around the room. He was beautiful as well, but I knew him and he knew me. He knew every thought in my mind, he loved me, cared for me but there was something about this other person. Some unyielding force that drew me towards him. My partner looked at me, shaking his head no. In concordance with my thoughts, he knew what I desired and he knew that it wasn't what I needed. But it was what I wanted, so I pulled away. Ending our dance abruptly, only to be swept into the arms of the mysterious man with the bewitching eyes. The dance was fast and passionate, like fire, all consuming. He spun me around the room, dazzling me, every time we passed my old partner, he would stretch his hand out. A silent gesture of return, although he reached for me, he did not touch me, I leaned, becoming just outside of his grasp. I know he could have retrieved me if he so wished, but his eyes told me that it was my choice, it wasn't something that could be forced upon me. We danced and danced, all the while he whispered sweet words into my ear. He told me how he loved me, and how very long he had been waiting for me, and how ecstatic he was that I was not allowing myself to be used by that monster I had been dancing with before. After a while I wasn't sure where we were, it was dark, my old partner had disappeared. I pulled my thoughts from him, it didn't matter where he was, and I had this captivating new partner. Blinded by the newfound attraction I had for this feeling of being reckless and doing what felt most self-gratifying to me, I didn't see the dark shadows that began to fall. The sun was gone, the moon was gone, and the twinkling lights that had reflected in his eyes were gone as well. It was dark, not quite pitch black, but becoming closer by the second. As the black-purple sky deepened, his face faded slowly out of focus, and with it, his beauty. He slapped me to the ground. I pressed my cool palm to my face, hoping for a moment of relief from the stinging; I looked at the ground scared to turn my eyes upward. I realized then, in the darkness of night, my attacker cast a shadow, a haggard shadow, one that sent shivers of terror down my spine. He shoved my chin up, forcing me to look him in the eyes. He was hideous; it was unimaginable to think that enchanting creature had morphed into the gruesome silhouette standing before me. He growled at me to open my mouth, I did, left with no other choice. I shuddered at first, as he poured the burning liquid down my throat. But only at first, the more he gave me, the more I craved it. The more I craved it, the more beautiful he had begun to appear. A new sensation was making me dizzy, leaving me entranced again. We danced again, and again. At the end of every dance, he would fade, becoming a revolting remnant of what I was used to seeing. And just like every time before, he would find me something new, something that I had never seen, tasted or felt before, something addicting. Something that I would crave and only he would be able to supply, making him yet again beautiful in my eyes. This time, he had run out. After all of the years I had spent dancing by his side, in hopes of him staying beautiful, and then doing whatever it took to keep him that way, he was done. He told me how worthless I was, how he couldn't bear to look at me, how I shouldn't be able to look at myself without feeling like I was insignificant. I thought he had run out. But he hadn't. He handed me something metal, the coldness of it seeped through my pores as the tears ran down my face. He offered me control; he said this is the only way to do it. Just do it. My fingers were shaking, I was confused, I didn't want to, but I did, it was the only thing I had left, a miniscule amount of control. He helped me, raising my hand that was holding the gun until I could feel the cold metal barrel against my temple. He gently placed my finger on the trigger. My hand shook. He told me he couldn't choose for me, I had to make the choice. My mind flashed back to what seemed a thousand years ago, when my first dance partner said those words to me. He was willing to save me then, but I was sure he didn't want me now. My muscles tensed as I prepared to make my choice, my hand shook so badly that the gun clattered out of my hand and onto the floor. I sank to the floor with it, not to retrieve it, but because I could stand no more. He laughed at me, he told me I was weak, and that I wouldn't last long. He picked up a wooden hourglass and tipped it over, setting on the ground in front of me. He told me I would be dead before the hour glass was empty and if I wasn't, we would continue to dance. He left the room then, still pleased with himself. At this point, I knew I needed help. I started my journey here a long time ago, I was naïve, and I thought that beautiful meant good, inside and out. I was terribly wrong. I was positive that my partner would not want me now, but I had to try. I screamed through my tears, calling his name again and again. I persisted in this until almost all of the sand had drained from the top of the hour glass. Unable to speak, my fear was confirmed, he had not heard me. I heard heavy footsteps approaching. I picked up the gun, standing up from the ground. I would do anything to escape the dance. Placing the barrel to my temple and my finger to the trigger, I was just about to pull it when a blinding light flashed, and a strong hand snatched it from my grasp. Rage in my eyes and pain in my heart, I whirled around, ready to fight whoever had taken my last chance of liberation. It was my first partner, with a cry I collapsed in his arms sobbing, he had heard me. At that very moment, my prison guard returned. He looked on in fury as I was protected in the arms of my Savior. He walked toward us violently, his feet striking the ground as if it was the one who had wronged him. My Savior stepped in front of me; I knew that he would fight for me. I stood on the sidelines and watched in anticipation as my Savior confronted death and sin, for me alone. He took a severe blow, only to conquer in the end. By the time I had reached his side, the slash across his chest had stopped bleeding, and was healing into a pink, puckered scar. I paused in front of him, looking at his injuries and blood saturated clothes. He closed the gap giving me a hug. I sobbed into his shoulder as his blood soaked into my clothes as well. He smoothed his fingers over my hair gently, murmuring words of comfort. He had heard me, and the bloody clothes he was wearing were proof of that. He had heard me and he had rescued me. I stepped back, surveying the scene. Sin was on the ground, without breath or the beat of a heart, with him was death, both had been conquered. My Savior stood next to me; I still couldn't believe that he was here.

"There's so much blood." I whispered sinking to my knees, staring first at the blood all over him, then the blood that too was his, pooled on the ground and on my clothing as well. He knelt down beside me, his eyes making a direct contact with mine, to show me he was listening. I traced my fingers over the scar on his chest; he winced slightly before taking my hand in his own.

"Why did you do it? I don't understand. I'm nothing anymore." I whispered, still in awe.

"Because you're worth it." He replied simply.

"What makes me worth it?" I continued, I had to know exactly why.

"I love you, that's what makes you worth it." With that he stood up, reaching his hand down to me. This time I took it. I had made my decision. As he pulled me to my feet, we were in the bright room again. Our clothes were clean and white, and it was as if nothing had happened in the first place. But it had, I remembered, and I knew that there was nothing that could pull me from my Savior's arms. I had been there once; he bore the scar to prove it. I wasn't going back. I held on tightly as my Savior and I began to dance, it was slow and gentle, and full of unconditional love.