Love is the mystery between two people, not the identity. We were at the opposite poles of humanity. Lily was humanity bound to duty, unable to choose, suffering at the mercy of social ideals. Humanity both crucified and marching toward the cross. And I was free, I was Peter three times the renounce, determined to survive whatever the cost. I still see her face, her face staring, staring into the darkness as if she were trying to gaze herself into another world. It was as if we were locked in a torture chamber still in love, yet chained to opposite walls. Facing each other for eternity, but for eternity unable to touch. Of course, as men always will, I tried to extract some hope from her that she would wait for me, not judge me too quickly, such things. But she stopped me with a look, a look I shall never forget. Because it was almost one of hatred. And hatred in her face was like spite in the Virgin Mary's. It reversed the entire order of nature.