hard work and sacrifice

I am keeping my lover alive with blood sacrifice. She doesn't know. I made up some excuse for the bandage on my hand, and so far she hasn't asked if it's getting better or when I'll be able to take it off. And every night when she's asleep I go into the dressing room and unwrap the bandage and reopen the wound and let my blood spill into the little altar I've built.

She's happy and healthy and has no idea she's cursed. And she asks about my waning health and I tell her it must just be allergies. I'm not sleeping well. I've been spending more time inside. She never wonders if I'm draining my life force one day at a time to keep her alive.

It started a few weeks ago. I heard a voice whispering "she is going to die" and I thought I was dreaming, but even when I was awake I still heard it, and I saw an image of her wasting away. I tried to ignore it but it persisted, until I couldn't sleep at night. I went into the kitchen to pour myself a drink, and, seized by some inspiration, I seized a knife and slit my palm open and let the blood pour into the sink.

It swirled and bubbled there and I felt an instant sense of relief. But I knew that wouldn't be enough, and the sink wasn't the place for it. I bound my hand with a rag and let the last of the blood wash down the drain, and I set to work on my altar.

I come back to bed after and she looks so peaceful, and even though I'm feeling light-headed and anemic it's worth it. The whispers have stopped. She's not wasting away.