He would never forgive Frankenstein for necessitating his own destruction, and for inflicting it upon himself before he had a chance to intervene. He released the corpse, before angrily pushing it up against the wall, slamming it repeatedly until bruising was visible against the blue-tinged, porcelain skin.
Had Frankenstein been alive, he would have told him, personally, that he was far beyond his forgiveness. The cold skin beneath his fingertips had him yielding to sorrow, and he buried his face in the corpse's collarbone