I have lost much in my life, but no loss has ever seemed as final as this. I have once lost my freedom of expression, caught in a silent shell without hope of ever being Monet St. Croix again. My sisters sacrificed their individual lives to return me to my life. I believed that they had made the ultimate sacrifice to give me the ultimate gift. I see know that it was not a gift. Were I still Penance, I would not be in such pain. I would never have bonded with a student at the Massachusetts Academy. The only difference I'd have seen these past few months would be that dark, bald man was no longer present.

Everett Thomas is gone. I have to accept that. I only wish that there was someone who was willing to listen for a few minutes, but they have moved on. After all, it has been six months. Other things are important in their lives. The world stops for no man.

Even when it happened, everyone else seemed to be taking it so well that I did not dare show the depth of my grief. They had not known about myfeelings for Everett. I continued to be the calm, composed Monet who I had always presented to the world. It was my defense mechanism. Invulnerability does not protect your heart, but that is not a problem when it is one of ice.

Everett changed that. Jubilee has always said I was the perfect one of the team. It was not me, but Everett who was flawless. He was the man for whom every girl dreams – caring, sensitive, polite. His kindness was what first attracted me to him. He did not judge. It is so rare to find a person in this world who has no preconceived ideas of humanity. The others had decided that I was conceited, and I suppose in some ways I appear to be. He saw past my aloofness. Indeed, I think he knew the reasons behind the facade. He never asked why; he saw the truth and accepted it for what it was. Why did he have to be such an understanding person?

He was physically perfect as well. He had the tall frame, broad shoulders, and slender, muscular hips associated with masculine beauty. Everett's face and build were that of a model, hard and chiseled, but his eyes were warm. Oh, how they captivated me! They were his true power, although I do not think he realized their strength. They would hold me powerless; I was never strong enough to break away from his gaze.

I first realized I loved him a year ago, and the emotion was so new and raw that I left the academy. I try to live my life so that I will die without regrets. At that point in my life, I felt that I would humiliate myself if I were to tell Everett of my love. Had I known that those few months I were in Switzerland were to be his last, I would not have gone.

Having an ocean between us did nothing to dampen my feelings. I returned to the team, to him. I remember the night I told him that I cared for him. I had prepared my words on the flight, but they were lost when I looked into his brown eyes. And yet, he knew my heart. The kiss we shared, outside in the cold, has burned itself into my memory. For one fleeting moment, perfection had entered my life. I only wish there had been time for it to linger.

I have not yet cried. Each night since his death, I have fought the hot tears which sting my eyes. They are selfish tears, and I will not cry in vain. He is in heaven, in bliss. I would weep not for him, but for my own loss. and for the thought of a life without him. I do not know why God took him from this world so young. Seven months ago, I dismissed the deaths of youths as God calling his children home. It was a comforting thought, but I have found it to be untrue. If our God were the loving, universal god, he would not take only one half of a soul. He would not have left me.