My Druid, My Love

Oscar Manuel Lopez Camargo

7/1/25

(Trigger Warning: Manipulation, Emotional Abuse, light descriptions of gore at the end)

Oh, how I love her! From the moment we had met, typing away at our computers like obsessive woodpeckers to a tree, maxing out the message board word limits per messages, our love was unbreakable. Unbreakable past even the most potent of explosives or mining equipment, birthed from feelings and hardened through time. It was to the point that our physical distance could no longer be tolerated, and I was on a flight to her hometown as soon as I could.

She greeted me with open arms as I walked through the quaint house she had made for herself, balancing the edge between a small neighborhood and miles of forest, and her interior only reflected the latter. Flowers rested upon every surface they could, whether it be contained within the glassy confines of a vase, or simply scattered amongst every surface they could be placed, as if her abode was being overtaken by nature. Rustic and earthy, not bound by the latest trend or one's other opinion.

She only dressed all the same, every knitted sweater or pair of overalls a beautiful green hue, only accentuating the earthy brown and shining hazel that made up her hair and eyes. She was the closest thing to a living being of nature itself. And when she stood inside her garden, surrounded by the healthiest reds, blues, greens, and yellows of a multitude of plants, a pang of fear would always shoot through me that she would eventually return to nature from whence she came. My druid, clad in clothes not meant for her and living a life she doesn’t want, yet still flourishing all the same.

After dinner that night, she would share a part of herself with me, a cup of tea blended from ingredients only known to her. A dark liquid, warm enough to hold, warm enough to ensure every last drop of that sweet, bitter liquid ran down my throat. It blurred my sight, dried my throat, yet to truly experience the warm comfort of her embrace, I had to feel her pain. Her discomfort, her suffering, even if it all had to be concentrated down into a tea. I longed for the sweet release water would give me, yet the warmth we created, wrapped in each other's arms late at night, would hydrate my soul.

I was positively addicted to her. Amidst the sunlight we’d tend her garden, walk around her hometown, ignoring the stars given to us by locals as we basked in our unabashed love. When the moon fell, we’d share our stories as I shared in her pain, only to rest, tangled in each other's arms like the sheer notion of being apart would kill us on the spot. It was the happiest I had ever been…yet things had to end.

I had packed up my things for the flight in a couple hours, my dearest mentioning that she would be in her garden as I did so…yet when I checked, there was none but the wind blowing against the plants. Around the house I walked, the populous flowers still lining me with the sweetest scents as I walked by, but once again there was no one to be found. I hated looking into the unknown, especially under the guise that some wouldn’t want them to be looked at, but as time ticked down, I knew I had to.

Yet, all they led me to was what was expected of the house. A bathroom, a reading room, even the closets were too lined with suitcases and unopened perfume bottles to even consider hiding in. All that was left for me was to go down. Slowly I made my way to the basement, barely an afterthought introduced into my psyche as she showed me around the house on day one, was now the only thing I had left to think about. After a cascade of creaking steps, leading me further into the partial darkness below, I grasped the door handle…and swung it open.

Consciousness was torn from me as something hard struck me in the face, then fully evacuated as I landed against the hard, tiled steps.

I awoke to straps holding me down, naught but the singular light of a hanging bulb above illuminating the room. My eyes adjusted to the dark, a dented, metal baseball bat leaning against the wall next to the basement door catching my attention first. Darting my eyes around, there were shelves, much more than someone living by themselves would need, and dozens of bottles with labels too drenched in the darkness for me to comprehend. And slicing through it all, standing in solidarity against the artificial coldness of the light bulb, was a singular streak of sunlight, most likely piercing through some kind of window or trap door I couldn’t see, coming from behind a wall to my left. I couldn’t move, I could barely see, but the sounds of footsteps gently resting against each step downstairs caught my gaze.

In she walked, my Druid, my love, still clad in those familiar, earthy tones even if they had been washed out by the yellow light illuminating the space. She greeted me, the same slightly sultry, warm tone still forcing me into a light smile despite the circumstances. I tried to joke, mentioning that we had no time for being adventurous, but a single finger to my mouth silenced me. Slowly she straddled me, those familiar, warm eyes growing dark as I noticed a hand reach into her pocket, pulling out a small, black berry. I hadn’t experienced all of her pain. I had simply sipped from the ocean that is her own toils. What am I then, if I fail to even entertain the idea that I had helped her, only to pull away not even a one hundredth of a way through?

I opened my mouth, accepting the berry in full. Another flight can be booked, another job to be found if I’m fired, another call to be made if I miss one from my family. Why make all this sacrifice? Because she loves me. And I love her.

One berry a day, the same feeling I had grown used to, the blurred vision, the dryness of my throat, yet I had conquered it. Even if it still hurts, I will do it. Because I love her.

Two berries a day. My heart was pounding, my skin flushed and coated in my own sweat, yet I still stood fast and conquered it. I was a warrior, and she was my goddess, testing my resolve to one day ascend to her level. Because I love her.

Three berries. Two in the morning, one at night. My phone might have been dead by now, who knows, sat upon her living room table, buzzing with messages, but if they heard what I was doing, they would understand. Not like I’d even be able to focus on its light anyway, as taking in her pain forced my focus from my sight to my body. And on my body I focused, because I love her.

Five berries. Two in the morning, three at night. She had freed me from my shackles, allowed me to feel the cold embrace of the basement floor, even as my body shook without my own control, or as the very reality around me felt like it had forgotten what it was supposed to be. Yet every time I saw her face, all that I needed to know was still there with me. She was my everything, because I loved her.

Eight berries. Four in the morning, four at night. I was no longer in control of my body, all that was known to me was the softness of the blanket she had laid out for me, the refreshing taste of the water she gave, and the warm bites of food she made, feeding it to me when my muscles couldn’t hold themselves still. Damned things, so locked in their toils to realize the bigger picture. My body was betraying me with every waking second, and I hated it. My heart beat in irregular rhythms, my body seized and flopped around on the floor like an ugly, worthless fish, yet every time she would nurse me back to health. And I would lay, letting her continue the cycle, because I loved her.

Ten berries. Everything went black. The void wanted me, it crept, it's cold, all encompassing arms around me, cradling me through my delirium, but I fought back. I knew it was the end, but I needed to see her one last time…to apologize for not being able to fully understand her, even after weeks, and hundreds of small, black berries of concentrated pain. So I fought, my body seized without my control, my head pounded and I could feel myself shutting down, but I used it to my advantage. I wiggled free, each familiar twitch of my muscles, every horrible cramp from how much I was tensing myself, was my path to salvation, to forgiveness. Before I knew it, I felt myself coming back, escaping the void in its own realm, to the bright light of consciousness once more…

Pain was a friend to me, something I had grown more than used to with each berry, but amidst my consciousness, my shallow breaths, did I feel something laying on top of me. I could barely move my eyes, but the very voice, dripping with sobs as the sounds of the basement door being kicked down gave me more than enough information. As the door cascaded down, as the barrel of a SWAT team member's gun pointed down at us, I finally let myself speak.

“I love you, Abilene.”

The bullet pierced both of us, a single shot more than enough to end this heaven on Earth.

My instincts kicked in as the sounds of a branch snapping off to the side interrupted my grazing. My father had warned me to always stay on my feet for predators, not to engage with beings made to rip, tear, and destroy…yet something about the wolf’s being, in front of me, froze me in my tracks. Seeing my eyes upon its own, it hesitated for a moment, antlers still entirely capable of goring any unfortunate creature in front of them, but it knew better, I knew better.

As she tore into my flesh, one bite at a time, as I felt my life seep from my very soul, I couldn’t help but gently whistle. I had found her again.

And I knew she loved me.