"I miss you. With every tear that hits the ground, even more. It's like you were the reason I wanted to live, just to wake up every morning beside you, kissing your lips. I never needed anything else in life. And now I curse God. With every lightning that strikes down, I grin in his disapproval. There is no quarrel between us, God and I. We understand things differently. I wanted you to live, he didn't.
Though it's funny, how simple life really is. So simple in fact, that we tend to make things difficult for ourselves. We ask questions that have no answers. And when we find ourselves blocked, we create answers. Satisfactory? Maybe. But truthful? No'¦
Why can't we accept things as they are? Dark is dark, light is light, and cold is cold. There is no good or evil hiding in a simple word.
We loved the dark. Only incest candles would light our home, ever so dimly. Relying only on our sense of touch, we held ourselves so closely, our un-beating hearts played the same rhythm. Our little dark rituals, licking blood and dripping wax, they never hurt anyone. So why evil?
As long as I live, you will be remembered in the true light that you shone. The Inquisition can spread all the rumors they want. Truth has many faces, but one soul.
I maybe damned, cursed to walk the night and feed off the blood of innocents, but evil I am not. And neither were you. You were purer than any one of those wretched robed hierarchs who condemned you to eternal hellfire.
I promise you, my dearest Autumn, you will not be forgotten. As I clench the rose in my fist, and drip the blood on your grave, I devote myself to an un-life of emotional solitude and misery. This can only end in one way.
Revenge is not recognized by religion. But condemnation is beyond me. And if the Abyss is what awaits me, I will raise my head to the darkened skies and cry out a lament for this God, or any other, to hear, and tremble.
As from this day forward, I am to be known as Dirge, the most loveless of lives."
And as Dirge dropped his bloody rose to the ground, a final glance, and a tear, was his goodbye to the only love he may ever know.

It is said that when a person dies, he is forever trapped in the last emotion to seize him. Dirge had been trapped in this memory every night, thus not allowing the angels of mercy to bring his soul beyond.
This is already your Hell Dirge, my poor friend, my destructive alter ego.

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