[Quaxo]: 438.The Dying Immortal.Chapter One: All for Modesty

Death cannot kill what never dies.
Thomas Traherene (Centuries of Meditation.)

I stared into the steaming drink that was before me. I could still see the steam rising from the cup. It made my nostrils flare. My eyes watered. I held it to my lips and took a little sip: it was so warm. Unlike other humans, I felt cold all the time.  I gulped it down and got ready to leave. No change: I was still freezing cold.
Cold: so very, very, very cold.
I would wrap myself in snug, thick blankets and I would even light an inviting little fire but still nothing could thaw the frozen block of ice which I called my heart. I could feel it floating within my stomach without a steady beat. I rarely went to doctors in fear of them listening and hearing no beat coming from my empty soul. I felt lifeless. I wasn’t worthy to live among the living.
I opened the door of the quaint, tiny coffee shop and went on my way. I didn’t know where I was going. All I knew was I was leaving my past as usual. Everywhere I went something happened and it added something more pain striking than before. I just wanted to leave my past as far behind me as possible. I never wanted to see it again. It was dead, they were dead, he was dead and so was I. But even when something is dead, it’s spirit seems to loom over you, haunting you constantly.
I had died countless times and the more it happened, the more I wish I could die. I could imagine the feeling but barely. I thought of it feeling like heaven. The pain searing through your body, your mind ready to burst inside your head, blood slowly making its way down your arms and legs: it must have felt great. I envied those who had been in real pain. Not emotional pain. I knew that pain all to well and I hated that feeling more than my cold, lifeless heart of ice. Anyone could feel emotional pain. We all had emotions: despondency, loathing, ecstasy ( a feeling I rarely felt), fury, compassion, resentment and others. I wanted to feel real pain. I wanted both my body and heart to feel it. That was all I wanted in life. Was to one day feel real pain or be on the verge of death. 
I didn’t fear death. If I did, I’d only fear life itself. A man fearing death is a man fearing life and himself. Death was natural. The world was old and we become old. The older we become, the more we realize that we shan’t live forever. We began to see death. We suddenly realize it’s there and that we can’t escape it forever. Some die young, some die old and some die when it’s their time. People sometimes just can’t face the fact that not everyone can be brought back to life. I’ve had to face that fact one too many times.

I thought I’d be alone in the world with no one by my side; I was right. I was another woman, another bum, another whatever on the streets that gave off a eerie glow that warned others not to get to close to me. I was not one for relationships. Relationships meant caring about someone other than myself; I couldn’t do that. I wasn’t being selfish but in order to care for another you have to care for yourself: I didn’t follow that rule.
  I walked down the silent sidewalks with nothing but the wind to listen too. The birds sang their songs in the distance. It almost sounded as if they were sighing, sad that day was over.
“Alas, alas, alas.” They seemed to say.
“Yes, alas.” I replied to them forlornly.
This city seemed to have a ghost floating around. Everything seemed so lifeless yet at the same time so alive. These people went about their everyday lives almost knowing that death could be right around the corner but they didn’t seem to care. They welcomed death with opened arms. I passed a cemetery where ones who greeted death showed no remorse. I admired these people for this.
I was almost to the city limits where I would leave St. Augustine. I liked this part of Florida. The air smelled of sweet ocean. The shops around me where nice and quaint. They had once been old house but now they had been turned into independent stores. The dew on the grass was shinning as I walked past a nearby playground. I sighed: I really didn’t want to leave for some reason. The only thing was, I didn’t have anything to live for and if I did, it didn’t seem to be here.
I was ready to leave when I heard a that scream; the scream that made me stay. I froze: that scream echoed through the chambers of my mind. I turned around, looking for the source of the shriek. I saw a girl with short, brown, messy, wavy hair running from three men who were all taller and bigger than her. She tripped, falling into the dirt, covering her face with filth. One of the them turned her around and began to tear her shirt off. She screamed again, covering her exposed her chest with her arms.
“No please!” The girl eyes filled with tears.
“Shut up bitch!” He said, slapping her.
She whimpered and fell silent. They all sniggered as one of them began to slip off her skirt. I stood there, watching him in horror: these men were about to rape her! My feet were glued to the ground for a second as if they didn’t know what too do. I stared at the girl who was silently weeping. The tears were mingling with her dirt covered face. I could have done anything: call the police, run away, turn my back and not pay any attention. But for me, I couldn’t think of leaving such a girl in such a state. I took a deep breathe and made my way across the street.
“Excuse me.” I was now standing in front of them.
“Oi, she’s hot!” One of the rapists said.
“We’ll get you next sexy.” The man from the ground said to me.
I felt a bit annoyed that they had not seen me as a threat but I really couldn’t blame them. I didn’t look like much to them but despite my appearance, I was still strong. I cleared my throat, hoping they’d hear me. It was drowned by the sounds of slapping and screaming.
“Excuse me.” I was trying again.
“We’re busy pretty baby,” One of them looked at me with a look I’ll never forget. He smiled at me and then started approaching me. “We’ll get too you soon. Or would you rather just let me make you feel good?”
He stood in front of me soon, pinning me against a tree. He ran his hand along the side of my leg. That was biggest mistake he ever made in his lifetime.
He screamed in pain as he held his crotch and fell to the ground. The other two whirled around at the sound of their fallen comrade. I stared at them; they said nothing. When they didn’t say anything, I spoke.
“If you ever come near this girl again, I swear I will personally dig your grave.” My voice was colder than usual.
The two of them stared at me before they started running in the other direction, leaving their so called friend to yell in pain. I stared at him for a moment and then remembered the girl. I turned around to see her lying on the ground. I ran over to her and checked her pulse. She was alive, just knocked out. I scooped her up and put her over my shoulders. I looked ahead to see if I could find a taxi. I stood on the sidewalk until one stopped in front of me.
“Take me to the nearest hospital please.”

It was a couple hours before she woke up. I had stayed by her side the whole entire time. Her short, messy, curly hair was a lovely light brown color. Her face was black and blue along with a long cut on her cheek. As she slept, she looked so sweet, pure and innocent. I think that was one of the reasons I had gotten so mad. Rape was a serious crime already; to force someone to engage in sexual intercourse is disgusting. What really burned me what was that when someone gets raped it is like you take away their innocence. Thinking about it made me sick; I held my stomach in fear of vomiting.
I decided to leave: she didn’t want to see me is what I thought. I got to leave when I heard someone yell, “Wait!”
I turned around; she was awake. She was sitting on the bed with a huge smile on her face.  
“Thank you!” She said. “I’m Modesty Morriesy. Who are you?”
I didn’t say anything to her. I didn’t really feel like talking to her. I wanted to leave. I didn’t want to get to attached to her because for some reason I felt like I was becoming to attached.
She smiled at me again and said, “Thanks again! Not many people stand up for me like that!” She said with a smile.
I smiled back: I hadn’t smiled in a long time. It really wasn’t a smile; more like a sad excuse for one but nevertheless, it was a smile.
I was a bit surprised to see how happy she was after I saw her crying a while ago. I saw the trail a tear had left on her cheek yet she acted as if she had just won the lottery. She started telling me about how she had gotten used to guys abusing her and molesting her but she had never thought of a rape attack. I was confused.
“You got used to this?” I inquired.
“Yes. You see, I’m very weak due to a disease I have.”
She started explaining about her sickness. It was called weak vein syndrome.
When she was young, her arm had been punctured so badly by a knife; it fractured her veins causing them to be weak. Her veins have trouble sending blood through her body unlike most people. She still lived well but she’d have problems with blacking out and fainting.  She also said that this caused her to have problems with learning self defense and that was why men used her.
Throughout her while entire story, she kept a small smile on her face. She didn’t feel any pity for herself.
“Someone could always have it worse.” She once told me.
“Don’t you have any family?”
“Both of my parents died in a car accident when I was ten. My sister doesn’t want anything to do with me.” She said, still keeping her smile.
“So you’re all alone?” I asked.
She nodded. I was silent for a while until she spoke again.
“You seem like a loner too. What’s your name?”
“Chantal.”
“That’s a pretty name! Are you by yourself?”
“I have no where to go and no one wants me. I basically just live by myself.”
“Aw, why do you think that?” I didn’t say anything but she continued talking. “Well it doesn’t matter! I would want you! You seem like a real interesting person.”
I’ll never understand what made me want to stay with her day. Maybe it’s what she said about me or how kind she was. Either way, I stayed with her, saying I would protect her from any harm that could come to her. She gave a squeal of delight before wrapping her arms around my neck in a tight hug when I told her. I gagged for a second but then realized how good I was feeling. I had made her happy. For once in years I thought of someone other than myself.
That was the reason I stayed in St. Augustine: for Modesty.