I am blind, for I cannot see. I am mute, for I cannot speak. Through no fault of mine own am I this way, yet the world around me treats me as if it were so. Am I to understand that accident's are my fault? Am I to confess that I intended to lose my vision and voice to become a burden to others? Am I to believe that someone could ever wish to lose their voice, much less their sight? Am I to say that I revel in the eternal darkness that surrounds my every waking hour? Am I to also say that I revel in not being able to seek comfort through voicing my thoughts, thoughts which I have no way to communicate, thoughts which will remain in the deepest crevices of my mind, never to come to light? But do not pity, for I can still touch, taste, smell, hear, but most importantly dream.

I dream the same dream each night. It is only momentous, but those moments leave me with the warmth an comfort that I lack in my waking life. In my dreams, the colours are beautiful- the reds are vivid, the blues sparkle and the whites are the purest. The skies are clear and the wind blows softly across my face. My light summer frock floats lightly about and a man, in a cardigan and jeans, who's face I never remember, walks beside me. We just walk, for as long as the dream lasts, we walk. Each time, we hold hands, smile at each other, and then as the dream fades away, he says something but as I open my eyes to a black world, I never remember what it was. It does not negate the fact that I feel warmth bubbling from the pits of my stomach, that leaves a smile on my lips- of course wiped clean when I'm tipped out of bed onto the floor and orders are barked into the air, in a harsh woman's voice to start being useful to the household. I don't know whether it is shame or hurt that prevents me from calling the said woman my mother.

The dream stays with me trough the day, the bright colours in my minds eye, till I am ready to be enveloped by it again at night. Until, I'm woken one night to the melodious sound of a male voice, next door, that forces me out of my bed and onto the balcony to hear better. The journey is perilous. I grip the wall tight, lest I fall three stories down. But the labour is worth it. The voice is beautiful, with the right amount of husk in it that makes it manly and not just sweet. But footsteps in the hallway cut my momentary elation short. Yes, I am worse kept than a prisoner at my own home. I stumble into the room, my knee catches the corner of the bed. There's a sharp sting and I know I've scraped the skin, but there's nothing much I can do as I bury myself under the covers, falling asleep, cradled by the smooth voice, but not before I hear the last line, that for some reason, brings tears to my eyes-

"Wherever walk together will be paradise..."

That night, for the first time, the man in my dreams says the same thing.

So for the next few nights I sit up in my bed, occasionally peeking out the windows, waiting for the voice to sing me to sleep, not daring to venture out for the fear of being discovered by someone at home and then paying all hell for it. Each night it is the same sing that lulls me to sleep and each night it is the same words that fill my eyes to the brim. Then one night, the voice seems closer. Temptation and curiosity win me over as my legs make their way to the balcony. My hands fumble around the latch before I can slide the door open. There is a gust of fresh air, the unorchestrated symphony of crickets and cicadas, a trip, a fall and then two strong arms wrap around my waist and pulls me straight. The touch is unfamiliar. It's gentle, kind, almost the same feeling as from my dreams. For a moment I turn my face to what I hope would be this person's, till he uses a finger to gently turn my face, with a soft,

"I'm here." For a while I clench and unclench my fists and then, with hesitant fingers reach out to his face, which I miss for sure. Slender fingers wrap around my wrist and and gently pull it to meet a soft cheek. He's real. "You're the girl who was in the accident a few months ago.....?" I nod shakily, letting my hand slip over the slack of his jaw, his soft cheeks and then his lips, which part slightly under the touch. "I-I'm sorry... I saw you out here once and the leaning out every night ever since and then I just had to- not that I'm a creep, or any thing of that sort- I live next door and I stepped over into your bal- and I'll stop talking now..." I cover my mouth in a silent laughter. "Wh-why do you...?" He asks, and I'm standing close enough to feel his breath.

'Your voice,' I mouth silently and wonder if he has understood but it seems he has because he mumbles a soft 'thank you'.

There is a sound from inside the house in the silence of the night and I clutch wildly at the fabric of his shirt. His hands naturally wrap around my waist and pull me close. But panic has overtaken my mind as I struggle to break free from what might be the only ounce of kindness I have experienced in a long time, and scramble towards the door, banging my forehead, my only concern being that it might have awoken the entire house... an arm wraps around my waist and another around my shoulder and leads me to my bed. There's no trip, no fall, no bumps, no scratches, the blanket gently falls over me and a soft hand tenderly caresses my cheek. This is kindness I have not felt in a long time. This is a touch I have not felt before. The desire to keep it rises rapidly and I grab the wrist and look up with wide, unseeing eyes, into what I hope is the face of the person.

Stay.

The hesitation is almost instantaneous. With a jolt of horror, I pull my hand away, having realised that I have just asked an absolute stranger to- but human kindness is almost difficult to comprehend as gentle hands push me further into the bed and the bed sinks under the weight of a body that sits next to me.

As the night grows, he ends up reclining against the wall with me on his chest, an arm around my waist and the other intertwined with the fingers on my left hand, humming the words that still bring tears to my eyes-

"Wherever we walk together will be paradise..."

I am not a fool. I know there is no promise of a 'better tomorrow'. I know there is no promise of a better anything. There is just this moment, wrapped in an inexplicable feeling of warmth, safety and comfort, that comes from a stranger..... but I am content to live with it for now, until day breaks and I am tumbled headlong into my own waking hell.
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