Blackfeather Woods She's Never Gonna Sing Them No More

Don't ever apologize! Your writing is wonderful! (also I frequently make absurdly houred posts, case in point (it is 2 am here) :)

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Cella's death had occurred over two years ago. Markus, his only friend during that trial of life, had not come to find him. It had been so long, he doubted they would even have recognized one another. Markus was also the only creature on earth who knew of Taikon's hardships. He was the only one who understood or cared. And, Taikon had never spoken to him again.
Years later, most of the time he was numb. On evenings like this, he thought of drowning himself. Or throwing himself from a cliff. No one would miss him, he thought. The pain after a memory was almost unbearable, for he had to relive the experience over and over again.
Taikon stood up, and he wanted to scream. He could smell blood. The pleasant twilight had faded into a dark and cloudy daydream that had nothing for him but terror. His breath had quickened without him noticing it. His breathing became fast, almost rapid, and he spun himself around the corner of a tree in a frantic— and there she was.
No. The image faded, and a great beast of a woman stood in her place. Taikon stood, a bit dumbfounded, but happy to be rid of the spell. Hello there, he said, as if nothing had happened to him. A light grin crept across his fine features. I was just uh— he took a very long, stupid moment to yawn. He hadn't woken up fully, despite his attack. Well, waking up I guess. He smiled widely.