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A Heart Bound

by Samuel Slater

Consciousness quietly ambushed him. One moment he was drowning blissfully in the depths of oblivion;

the next, he felt fully aware. He found himself laying on his belly. A strange weight rested firmly

on his back, pinning him to the ground. Heavy yet soft warmth enveloped his body, creating a

wonderful illusion of being tightly wrapped in a cocoon of blankets. If only the soothing

sensations could bring comfort to his tortured soul.

He bit back a sob and felt himself break all over again. His despondent heart shattered into a

million tiny shards too fragmented to ever put back together. At least, it should have shattered.

An alien force stubbornly held it firmly in place like a skin-tight barrier. The firm grip holding

him together proved far stronger than its gentleness implied.

And yet, he wished the strange force wasn't so powerful. As bad as his pain hurt, he wanted it. He

needed it. Brokenness was all he knew. All he had. The pain didn't just encompass him, it was him.

It had become such an integral part of him that he couldn't bear to let it be taken away.

Rebelliously, he fought back against the unwelcome entity keeping him alive. It had no right to

interfere with his private misery. He wanted it gone. He pushed against its hold, harder and

harder, trying to escape its unyielding grasp. He burned through hidden reserves of energy like

fire consuming an oil spill.

Rage fueled his efforts. Years of pent-up self-loathing tore free, demanding a target for their

destructive energy. He eagerly used that vast supply of hate, focusing it on the one who dared

stand in his way. No matter how much anger he burned through, there was always more on hand,

waiting to be used.

Fury became the entirety of his existence. The volatile emotion fed off itself. Rage created even

more violent rage in a never-ending chain reaction. He became an uncontrolled explosion of anger,

clawing for escape. And he would escape. Nothing would hold him back. He would break free and

demolish the force holding him at bay. He would smash it for having the gall to stand up to him.

As soon as he wrestled free of its grasp, he would swarm in and destroy it utterly.

Something inside him shifted. Something changed. The pipeline to his precious anger closed off.

The emotion sustaining him suddenly vanished. With nothing left to feed off, his rebellion flamed

out as brilliantly as it was vain.

Anger had been his last bastion. His final desperate defense in the face of overwhelming despair.

Now stripped of his strength, he lost all sense of purpose. The ice in his heart leached warmth

from his bones. The darkness in his soul blotted out all memory of light. He was lost and afraid,

weak and helpless, cold and purposeless. He was so very, very alone.

A sharp claw slowly trailed along his cheek and traced his jaw--a dragon's caress. An act of love

and comfort in a world of emptiness and despair. The tender affection crushed him. The walls that

had felt so restrictive and suffocating a moment before now felt like a cavern of infinite size.

This time he didn't stop the tears. He sobbed hysterically. He turned his head around and buried

his face in the long neck behind him. He desperately needed something solid to hold onto. Something

to prove he wasn't utterly alone in a universe full of darkness. The physical contact helped.

"Shhh. It's ok. I've got you." Her voice was a soothing balm for his withered spirit. It promised

to ease the unbearable pain tormenting his soul. It spoke directly to his mind, by-passing his

ears, and the rest of the physical world, entirely.

That voice. As benign as it sounded, he could feel the vast, fathomless power behind it. Power to

shape him as she saw fit. The power to build him up. The power to tear him down. The power to

simply erase him and replace him with something better. It should have terrified him. It didn't.

His meaningless life was disposable, worthless even to himself. He had stopped caring about it

long ago.

The voice filled him not with fear, but with shame. Why him? She was strong enough to do anything

she wanted. She could be out serving some great and wonderful cause, something worthy of her

awesome might. Or she could be off satisfying her own deepest, darkest desires. Instead, she was

here, wasting her life, trying to rescue a pathetic excuse for a human. A man who stayed alive

only because death was among the many things he could never achieve.

He found himself on the brink of a terrible impasse. On the one hand, he wanted to push her away.

He didn't deserve any help. He didn't even know if he wanted it. She would be far better off if she

simply left him alone and never looked back. On the other hand, he needed her. She was all he had.

If she went away, he would fade until he became as lifeless as a corpse.

He felt trapped, unable to make a decision. He wanted to reach out to her. But he dared not. To do

so would be to condemn her to a lifetime of misery and futility. He should just turn away and spare

her the pain she would inevitably suffer at his side. But he didn't have the strength to make her

go away.

The dragoness made the choice for him. She pulled him into her vast mind, submerging him in an

ocean of aquamarine. She welcomed his spirit into herself, encouraging him to find peace in her

fathomless mind.

At first, he fought back. Without even trying, her amazing power could change him in ways he

couldn't imagine. Then he remembered that he didn't care. If she wanted him, she could have him.

It wasn't like he could stop her anyway. He finally gave up trying to fight and accepted her

unconditional affection.

Now that she had bridged the gap, he was unable to stop himself from reaching out to her. Even so,

guilt still threatened to overwhelm him. What gave him the right to shove his burdens onto her? He

almost drew back. Instead, he squirmed against her soft neck, trying to burrow his way through her

scales and lose himself in her all-consuming inner core.

The barest contact between her curative spirit and his anguished heart left him gasping. Her touch

felt cool and soothing like damp cloth on a fevered brow. He didn't know which hurt more: his

bitter self-condemnation or her magnanimous absolution. For now, he preferred the shocking cold of

her comfort to the searing fire of his pain.

For a long time, he remained trapped within her unbreakable embrace. Hot tears of guilt and

self-pity scalded his cheeks. Sometimes he clung desperately to her like a piece of driftwood in

an ocean of pain. Other times he would turn away, struggling in a futile effort to escape her

unbreakable hold. At all times, her quiet strength and gentle warmth enveloped him.

Gently, she pried hate's dangerous blade from his grasp. Gingerly, she plucked out guilt's tiny

shards. Determinedly, she stitched closed despair's gaping wounds. Patiently, she set depression's

fractures. Carefully, she wrapped shame's burns. Delicately, she smothered ointment over

loneliness's welts. Thoughtfully, she placed a compress over pain's feverish surface. Bit by bit

she tirelessly bound his heart as a physician might heal his body.

Eventually, his emotions balanced out. For once, he felt ok. He still felt fragile, as if even the

slightest provocation would shatter him all over again. But for now, he felt ok. He took a shaky

breath and sniffled. In his mind's eye, he saw himself as no larger than a young child. His small,

helpless form lost within the dragon's embrace. He knew perfectly well that reality was closer to

the opposite of his impression. His tall, lanky body dwarfed her shorter, denser one.

However, the spiritual world, with its ever-shifting nature, told a different story. Within that

realm, she could easily hold him with one paw and still have room to spare. He found the comparison

reassuring. He had no faith in his ability to stay strong. But maybe, just maybe, with her there

to hold him, he might somehow make it.

It felt strange letting her comfort him. Had he been allowed to choose a guardian, he never would

have even considered putting a dragon on the list. Yet now, contained within her warm embrace, it

felt right. The weight of her small body resting solidly upon his back. The feel of her sinuous

neck outlining his head. The press of her legs pinning his arms to his sides. The gentle squeeze

of her tail as it twined around his thigh. It all seemed right. He couldn't explain it.

Again, a sharp claw stroked his face. This time he arched into the tingling sensation, nuzzling her

paw like an infant. He gave no thought to how ridiculous he might look. He felt more at peace with

himself--more whole--than he had in a long, long time. That was what mattered.