There once was a girl named Izzy, who no one understood. It is actually quite understandable why but, nonetheless, this is still a sad story.

The girl was a mystery to most, her parents, classmates, friends (if she had had any), and, later in life, her colleagues. She spent most of her days in complete darkness and, though it seemed odd, her family just let her be. No one really knows why they let her sit there by herself for so long, but it was rumored that whenever anyone would go near the door to her room, they would hear her muttering, even giggling on occasion. So they left her alone and focused on their other children. Ignorance is bliss, right?

One day, a boy by the name of Lysander caught a glimpse of this odd being in the back of the classroom for the first time. He’d heard of her, but for some reason hadn’t noticed her presence. Her long blonde hair fell around her, seeming to act as a shield from the outside world. She was flicking a lighter on and off, sometimes snuffing it out with her fingertips. He saw strange markings on her hands but wrote them off to be tattoos or birthmarks or something of the sort. Unsure as to why, he approached her after class, intending to start a conversation.

“Hi Izzy,” he uttered with less confidence than he’d planned.

She stared up at his face. Just stared at him until he felt as though he could shrivel into a corner and never face the world again. And then she left, walked out the door into the natural world, like nothing had happened. As if nothing really mattered.

Yet he couldn’t think of anything else but her eyes. It wasn’t because of how beautiful they were so much as how odd. They were the lightest shade of a blue hinting at green. And then there were the gold rings. Oh yes, that was what had really struck this boy. Just around each of her pupils was a band of gold. A thin band but undeniably prominent. They seemed as though they should have been halos sent to her from the highest place in heaven, but instead were a curse driven up from hell, tormenting everyone who laid their own irises upon them.

Late in the night, Lysander was haunted by the beauty and terror which resided in those eyes, the madness which roamed around just beneath Izzy’s skin. It struck Lysander with such agony that he wondered what was wrong with him. Why would he feel so much for this girl who had only stood before him but for a few moments? Why should he care so much?

The next day Izzy was not in class, nor the day after that, nor the one after that. In fact, Lysander never saw her return to school. He was awfully curious as to what had happened to her but also relieved that he wouldn’t have to deal with those eyes again. After a while, she began to fade from his memory. It wasn’t until many years later that he even thought of her again.

Lysander went off to college and returned home for the summer after the completion of his first year. While eating dinner, his father brought up that the King’s had decided to tear down their old house and were moving someplace far away. No one was really sure where. King… where had he heard that name before? And then it hit him with all the force and destruction of a hurricane. A deep gash seemed to open up within his heart and he ached as the emotions from the laceration sprang forth. He could see her eyes again; he had never truly forgotten them, only suppressed the memories they brought forth. It left a bad taste in his mouth and a longing he wasn’t sure he himself could satisfy. Something was eating him from the inside and he knew he had to see her. Without so much as a goodbye, he sprang from his seat and ran to her house. Had he known she lived so close, he may have gone there sooner.

The house looked dead, as if not a single living soul were home. And maybe that was true, for something alive surely couldn’t have brought all this upon him. But he knew she was in there, somehow, he knew, and he was fully aware as to where to find her. He ran into the house and found nothing left in it but a note saying that the family had packed up and left. According to the note, they had paid the construction workers in advance for the house to be torn down. Their daughter is still here. What were they thinking? Do they want her dead?

He ran up the rickety spiral staircase and stopped on the top level. There was only one door, painted black, at the end of a short hallway. He could hear muffled laughter and a conversation being carried on by only one party. Feeling numb, Lysander opened the door. What he saw was a thing of nightmares. There were no windows in the room, or anything else ordinary, for that matter, and the walls were all pitch black in color. Candles, blazing in an jumbled array of blues and oranges, decorated the entire space, save the very middle. In the center was a mound of what appeared to be glowing garbage but upon closer examination turned out to be wax with a lightbulb in it. The cord was sticking out of the hardened glob and led up to an outlet on the ceiling. Perched on top of the wax was a shell of a girl, bone-thin with long, blonde, lifeless hair. Izzy had another lightbulb in her hand and was hunched over it. She was the conversationist and it was apparent that no one but her could hear the other end of the conversation, which was coming from the light. He then realized what all the marks on her hands, arms, and even legs were: burns. Some scarred, others fresh.

“Izzy,” Lysander said. She didn’t respond. “Izzy!” There was still no reaction except laughter and muttering. So he started kicking the candles, stepping on them to get to her, not caring the whole house was going up in flames. This got her attention. She saw him destroying her beauties and launched herself at him. They struggled but in the end Lysander was much bigger and carried her down the stairs and out into the lawn. By that time, there wasn’t just a gash on his heart, but wounds all over his arms, face, and chest where her long nails had torn up his skin. She was still fighting him until she caught sight of her house, beautiful and ablaze. She was mesmerized by it and probably would have remained so for the rest of her life had that been an option. A crowd was gathering outside and the call of a fire truck and ambulance resounded throughout the neighborhood. A team of nurses surrounded Lysander and took him away to clean him up. He watched as another team picked up Izzy without any trouble and continued watching as they took her away. They tended to his injuries and clapped him on the back, calling him a hero for saving her life. They didn’t even know what else he’d saved her from and they never would. The fire, her parents, and, worst of all, herself. He’d tried and failed to free her from her madness.

He knew there was no need to explain what he’d saw. They’d figure out how insane she was soon enough. What they would never know is how crazy he was for falling in love with the mad creature. But she’d never loved anyone, and it was time to forget about her and her cell where she’d be staying for the rest of her days, where no light would be allowed.

Alas, my love-that-would-never-be was in love with the lights, never me.