I wouldn’t have to kill her.
I could taste her and she could live.
Forever.
She could travel with me. I’ve had many years of traveling alone. And I think that she wants it. Or at least doesn’t fear it. She stowed away on a ship, facing both known and unknown dangers to escape the world she lived in. She can still do that. I hold the key to being in this world and outside of it at the same time. She’d like that, I think.
But she doesn’t understand the risks.
In me, she sees passion and everlasting life. What she also sees, without realizing it, is control, an ability to make choices and renounce cravings. Willpower.
She may have it or she may not.
She may be what I am or she may be what I used to be.
There are no guarantees.