The illumination of the candle brings joy to my aching heart. The warmth of such a bright beautiful object put in front of me, all for myself is a feeling never to be touched upon again. In this locked away chamber, consumed by darkness, one little candle and flame is a gift no Deity could fathom. This candle emits a scent of true euphoria, the sweetness of which would melt even the coldest of beings.

Without this candle, things wouldn’t be the same. The darkness surely would consume my flesh and soul, leaving me nothing but a cloud of dust. Forgotten in time. 

I cannot lose this candle, this beam of hope in a newfound world of terror. Without such a thing I’ll be lost to darkness. I’m getting lost in my mind thinking of everything awful that can happen.

“What if my breath extinguishes the flame?”

“What if a raw movement of my figure brings an end to this brightness.”

I will not live a life without the candle. No, I cannot return to such a life. Its importance weighs significantly on my well-being.

To prevent the destruction of my light, I back away from the candle, cowering from it and hiding for the better of myself and the candle. Preventing myself from destroying the one good thing for me.

As I grow comfortable with the state of my life, the flame of the candle that's been so good to me vanishes. Leaving just me and the darkness, completely alone. The intoxication from the candle fades quickly.

There is only one option left for me.