Diana

He lay on the concrete. His hands clasped behind his head and he curled into a ball to protect all of the most vital parts of his anatomy. He was bleeding, bruised, in pain and vaguely wondering if there were any internal injuries. 'And for what? A belief?' A belief that had gotten him shunned by his peers, kicked out of his home, 'out of my family really', and now beaten. All for a necklace they had thrown back at him.

He risked opening his eyes when no blow had come for a few minutes. Lying with him on the concrete, covered in spit and grime, was that very necklace. He couldn't see clearly but he recognized what he would have once considered his most beloved possession. Now he didn't know if it was worth it.

He heard footsteps approaching rapidly. There was only one set, and they sounded too light to be the same men but he was taking no chances. He curled up and waited for the rain of strikes to begin again. He felt light hands rest on his arm and relaxed slightly, instinct overruling caution. He opened his eyes and tilted his head slightly, refusing to relinquish his protective shell.

A woman kneeled next to him eyes wide with concern. He couldn't make out anything about her through the haze of pain and tears covering his sight. He began to unfold only to curl up once more, an immediate reaction to the pain lancing throughout his body. An arm wrapped around his shoulders and she pulled him to her for comfort. She was murmuring something but he couldn't understand her. He added a ceaseless ringing in his ears to the list of injuries.

Slowly she helped him to his feet. Carefully she began to guide him away from the terrible scene. He was conscious of sitting during their agonizing trek, so maybe they traveled by car, or maybe he just needed to stop frequently to rest. They ended up in an unfamiliar bedroom. He thought he remembered stairs so probably an apartment.

She peeled off the filthy pants and damaged shirt to inspect his wounds. As she shifted him painfully this way and that for a better look she spoke soothing words. Slowly he began to understand them. She was mostly talking to herself, cataloging his injuries, but she continued to assure him they were minor or superficial. As she cleaned and bandaged them she commended his luck in avoiding any internal injuries. He knew better though. There might be no broken bones or damaged organs but he remembered how he felt looking at the necklace.

She stopped, his body was taken care of but she seemed to realize that he had suffered far greater damage through the attack. She knelt on the bed, legs folded under her, and once again wrapped her arms around him. She sung wordlessly as they rocked back and forth, holding him as he cried. Slowly the pain fled, leaving him empty. He felt betrayed; by a world that claimed to cherish freedom, by his family and by his beliefs. All had turned their backs on him.

She stroked his hair, reminding him that one person could still care for a stranger. He looked up and once again tears clouded his vision. This time however they could not mask her beauty or grace. It was a natural beauty, full of life and promise, not like the pinup girls of centerfolds or the anorexia of runways. Her hair was unkempt, but stylish as it glowed in the moonlight from the large window. In the dark he couldn't tell it's color, or that of her eyes, but it didn't matter. It was her power and radiance that inspired him the most.

A hand brushed his cheek. "You need to rest." Her voice was musical, but the command in it was unquestionable. She leaned forward and kissed his forehead lightly before lowering him to the pillows. He struggled to stay awake as she shifted the sheets across him. There was something he was supposed to say.

Suddenly he remembered. "Who are you?"

Sitting on the edge of the bed she smiled gently down at him cocooned in warm sheets. "You can call me Diana."

"Thank you Diana. For everything." She smiled a knowing smile as sleep took him.

When he awoke in the morning he felt considerably better. His body was sore but everything seemed to work. She wasn't in the hotel room so he quickly got dressed in freshly cleaned clothes and hurried downstairs. She wasn't in the lobby. He went to the desk to ask after her. The concierge informed him that she had paid for the room very early and left but she had left something for him.. He was devastated but he waited for the man to retrieve the item from the back room.

When the man came out he recognized it immediately. His heart leapt as he once again held it in his hands and stared in wonder. There, cleaned and polished, lay his most beloved necklace. The same that had been left, in the confusion and anger, in the alley the night before.