“I don’t want to leave,” my demon said. She looked like an ordinary person, thin and tall, with curly brown hair only kept out of her eyes by a sunhat. She brushed a strand of it away from her face and caught me looking at her.

“You’re not making this easier for me,” I said.

“I know.”

An awkward silence fell between us, and to fill it, I stared out over the ocean. Despite our height on the cliff-top, sand still crunched beneath our bare feet. She had insisted on going shoeless for no particular reason, and because I loved her, I had obliged despite the pain. Assuming I could follow through, the bruises would later be a fitting reminder of what had happened here.

“This isn’t a good spot to die,” she finally said. “It’s too peaceful.” Her brown eyes glinted as she glanced back at me, searching for reassurance. Though I should have said something to the contrary, forcing her to stop making excuses, I proved too weak. Who was I to deny her final request?

“Okay. Where do you want to go?”

She surveyed the landscape again, then turned without saying another word. I picked my way across the clifftop after her, cringing at the sharp stones I stepped on. She did not seem to notice my pain, but that was common for her.

Occasionally, I would remember the brutal nights she forced me through, like the broken shards of glass on my floor and the lingering smells of blood and alcohol. I shuddered, crossing my arms to ward off the sudden chill.

“There’s a bridge up here,” she said. It took me a moment to realize that the tremble in her voice was due to more than just exertion. I had never seen her vulnerable, and though her tears had only been manipulative in the past, now I felt her sorrow was real.

We stopped, just out of sight of our destination, so I could wrap my arms around her and bury my head in her shoulder. Empty platitudes died useless on my lips, and all I could do was hold her. Taller than me, she settled her chin on the top of my head, and we stayed that way until her shoulders stopped heaving. Her hand trembled when she wiped the tears away, but the determination I had always admired in her gaze had returned.

“You shouldn’t have had to see that,” she said.

I shook my head, pulling away. “It’s okay to be weak sometimes.”

She smiled feebly, offering me her hand. Though it broke my heart, I took it just like we had done before, swinging our hands back and forth as we walked the rest of the way.

“What color is the bridge?” I asked. She had the best way of describing colors, and I wanted to hear it from her one more time before she had to leave forever.

“Vermillion,” she said. “It’s like the darkest part of a campfire or the perfect shade of a falling autumn leaf. It is freshly spilled blood or the heart of a grapefruit. It’s close to the shade of that house I took you to in Venice.” Her voice broke again, but I did her the courtesy of not looking at her. “It’s a lovely color. Vermillion, that is.”

I remembered Venice as if it was yesterday. I had tried drugs for the first time at her behest and been arrested for it. “It is,” I said.

Her hand was warm in mine, but not clammy. Though she walked to her death, she came bravely. Still, her touch sent sparks of fire racing through me. How can one love someone who has hurt them so badly? The question broke me apart inside, and this time it was my turn to cry while she comforted me.

“I can’t do this,” I said, and I expected her to agree, as such was in her nature. Perhaps she recognized that in my moment of weakness, I would have done anything for her, even going back to live with the demonic figment of my imagination for eternity, if only she’d love me in return.

Yet surprisingly, she shook her head and encouraged me instead. “Yes, you can. Not everyone would have been able to walk me here, and at least you are brave enough to do it yourself. Besides, I’m not real. When I’m gone, I’ll simply cease to exist. There will be no pain.”

“I won’t ever get to see you again,” I cried. “I love you.”

“No, you don’t,” she said, oddly sagacious. “I am the worst part of you, and you don’t love yourself. But maybe someday,” she said, squeezing me closer. “Maybe someday you’ll be able to really love me.” The words did not make any sense, but perhaps they were just what I needed to hear. “Okay?” she asked.

“Okay.”

She grinned, and I exalted in that smile, memorizing the features of her face. Then, we pushed back the last line of bushes, revealing a sandy stretch of beach leading to the vermillion bridge. “Catch me if you can!” she called, bursting forward.

Even though my feet hurt, I chased her to the edge of the bridge, catching her just before she reached the other side. We laughed together, possibly for the last time, and as that realization struck us, the mirth fell away.

The wind whipped the waves dangerously across the sea, and her eyes grew lost in the sight. “Now this is more like it. Almost as wild as I am,” she winked.

I saw through the desperate attempt to lighten the mood, but I smiled anyway. Another few minutes passed in silence. “Remember when you first created me?” she asked.

I nodded. “With a sheet, a chair, and a marker. I’d spend hours talking to you every day. Everyone thought I was crazy.”

“They still do,” she teased. By now, the sun had crossed the midpoint in the sky and begun its trip towards the horizon. The somber reminder of the passage of time brought us back to the ocean.

“I wish there was a way where you didn’t have to die,” I said.

She shook her head. “We both know there isn’t. You’ll just think of me again, and I’d never truly be gone.” Holding out her arms to me, she offered one more hug, and I accepted it. “I’ll miss you,” I murmured into her shoulder.

“Vermillion,” she mused aloud. “It’s a lovely color, and this is a beautiful place to die.” Even as she spoke, I could feel her fading. Her essence drifted into a billion particles that spread throughout the air and fell sloping to the bridge and the water below, before those too disintegrated. Not a trace of her remained, and despite how much my heart hurt, I felt as if a huge weight had fallen from my shoulders with her.

“Hello?” I called. “Angel?”

For once, no one answered. My demon had left.