I’d never wake her...not even if the world were crashing down around us. They say that sleep is our biggest escape from reality, from all of the complications and confusion in our conscious world. I’ve grown to detest that world, maybe even life. My life was Liz—her vitality, her strength, her acceptance, her understanding, her love, her touch...oh, God, her touch. But our love is forbidden, and as a result I’m trapped in this paradoxical Hell. My mind pleads with me to forget her touch, forget what it does to me, for the sake of myself, of Michael and Tess and Isabel and the rest of the free world. My heart, seemingly stronger by far, holds the memory of the way she felt in my arms as its most closely guarded treasure. It’s all I have...I cannot allow myself to forget, thus the pain, the paradox.

I come here every night now. It’s not the wisest habit I ever picked up, I admit. Now I know the truth, and this is as close as I can get to her. Where was it that I’d heard you know you love someone when you can spend the entire night just watching her sleep?

I wait until she’s in a deep sleep. I can see it through her window at night, the look of contentment on her face. That’s when I come in quietly and sit in the darkest corner of her room, my knees pulled close to my chest. With the moonlight streaming through her curtains on to her pillow, I watch her intently for hours, studying her face, listening to her mumble, trying desperately to decipher anything coherent. Sometimes she smiles, and I imagine her dreams to be satisfying, even idealistic. Don’t we dream of our own relatively perfect worlds? And I hope that somewhere, occasionally, she sees my face, and that we’re together. I suppose this is where I hope her smiles come from.

The hardest nights are spent listening to her whimper. She’s said my name a few times during these nights, but last night, she cried. I didn’t know it was possible to cry in your sleep. I knew I had to leave. Staying would tempt me beyond my powers of self-restraint. I’m back tonight, hoping tonight is more peaceful for her.

My eyes never leave her face. She truly is mesmerizing. Have you ever watched something so beautiful that you were afraid to blink? Afraid to miss something? Nothing I’ve ever seen compares to her; it’s the most consuming addiction I’ve ever experienced. She has no idea what I know, that the whole Kyle thing was a complete lie, that she did it selflessly to save us all, and my admiration for her grows even greater. She is the epitome of what I was always taught not to wish for…Isabel said she could never exist, but I knew she was somewhere. I just had to find her first. And now, in some sick twist of fate, I have found her, but I cannot have her.

I study her face intently, moving slightly closer to her. I just want to feel her breathing, reassure her, if only subconsciously, that my love for her hasn’t changed, that I do trust her. I knew it would come to this eventually. Here I am, on the side of her bed, wanting to touch her, maybe even more. But I don’t. Instead, I merely whisper to her, softly, that she is all I want, all I need, my everything, and my eyes well up with tears. It’s almost dawn. She’ll be waking soon. I get up to leave through the window, wanting desperately to stay, just like every other night. I leave nothing to indicate I had been there watching her as I slip through the window, stealing one last look at the woman I know I’m destined to be with and belong to for the rest of my life. The birds are chirping; the sun is coming up. It’s come time to live through another day without her. But I know I’ll make it…I’ve got the night.