I carved at the ice in my hand, moulding it and shaping it absentmindedly until it was taking the form of a bird. No, not a bird. A Phoenix. Of course.
I often dwelled on Darcy, how breath-taking she’d looked when she’d visited, how much I’d wanted to drag her into my arms and beg for her forgiveness. I knew every word of our conversation by heart and regretted at least eighty percent of them. But there was no room for regret in my life anymore. I had to push her away. It had to be like this. Even if I’d tried to apologise, what good would it have done? I didn’t want her forgiveness. I didn’t deserve it. I never would. So she’d had to come and go. Just like that. A brief encounter which meant more to me than every single day that had passed in this place since. I replayed it, mostly on mute might I add, so I didn’t have to listen to the cold detachment of her voice, but the memory of her standing before me in a dress that seemed designed to hook onto my darkest, most fierce desires had me in pieces.
Yeah just keep dwelling on it, asshole, that’ll cheer you up.
At least she seemed okay, though I imagined nothing could comfort her over what was going on with her sister. I just wished I could do more.