Devastated, he thought to himself, Horrified. Shocked. None are right. What words could he possibly use to describe the emotions that tore through his body? None seemed to express the sorrow which flooded his heart, choking all life from his blood until he was sure that he would die from the agony. His body felt as though it would burst, taking away his life by misery. And had not the confusion engulfed his mind, he would have ended his days right then and there.

Instead, he lived as a punishment. Endured the pain that she must have felt, for he had been too blind to help her.

Hard to believe that only a few days ago he had been holding her as she wept bitterly against his chest. His pleading with her went unrewarded. She could not tell him the troubles that had been thrust upon her, would not let him carry the burden as well. Between her sobs, she could only shake her head when he continued inquiring; shuddering, she'd clutch him tighter. And at last, she cried herself to sleep.

He never left her side that night. His hand stroked her hair in a steady rhythm as she whimpered piteously and trembled in her nightmare filled, restless slumber. He felt helpless, worthless knowing that he was incapable of protecting her. Therefore, he contented himself with giving as much comfort as she would receive.

When she awoke, a mask of serenity was donned upon her face. It appeared that whatever thorn she had suffered from had resolved itself.

But she remained close to him, hardly letting him out of her sight in a clingy and protective way. It was apparent that she was still troubled, though trying her best not to show it. To him she was as easy to read as a book, but again, she denied that she was hurt, and only wished to spend the day with him. He knew better. She was not a physical person, preferring her space and freedom to being tied down to anything. Cuddling hardly occurred unless something was on her mind, but even then it was more flirtatious than needy.

And in the end, it was this that gave her away.

One final time, he asked if he could be her confidant; let him carry some of the pain. She refused, of course, shaking her head sadly and hugging herself. It was her barrier, telling him that the matter was not up for discussion, that she would let no one in.

It shocked him to hear her speak, asking softly that he not go out on his next mission. She begged him to stay, not wishing to be alone. He could only refuse. This rendezvous had been planned for months; he could not back out now. Her cries exploded at full force, her body shook in convulsions until she slid down the wall, collapsing on the floor in a heap of tears. So heart wrenching were her sobs, that he held his breath, determined not to give way.

Kneeling beside her, his hands found the small of her back, and he pulled her into his lap, kissing her tenderly and petting her until she was calm enough to understand the promise he was about to make. Upon his arrival, he had whispered, he would take her out and buy her a ring. He saw her eyes brighten ever so slightly at the prospect of possible marriage, despite their young age, and she nodded her consent.

But when he returned, it was only to find her body being dragged from the river.

He choked at the gruesome sight of her battered and broken body, looking like an abused and cast away doll. Her limbs appeared stiff, lying at awkward angles. Her flesh was beginning to wrinkle, though the skin of her face was pulled tightly across the bones. Dark bruises shown like beacons on her deadly white skin. Her hair was covered in mud, hanging in mats, plastered with blood to her neck. Eyes bulged hideously from their sockets, the whites beginning to turn gray; lips tinted with blue were parted slightly, a river plant hung wetly from her chin. The clothes she wore were torn and covered in pink splotches, places where he blood had been washed way. The flesh on her shoulder was in ribbons, and the bone peeking teasingly through the red wound.

His throat tightened as a crowd gathered, curious to know if the rumors were true. The world was fading out before his eyes and all that was left behind was the shattered figure of his lover. Staring any longer at her was not an option, but nor could he bring himself to look away from the grotesque, disfigured picture.

He swallowed the bile pooling in his mouth, grimacing at the taste, when a thought struck him.

Suicide?

Never again would he get to listen to her laughter as they fought over useless things. They could no longer throw punches at each other at their favorite training grounds. No more dragging one another home in a drunken stupor after drinking matches. Gone was the time to see each other off on missions. Too many walks had been untaken. Too much time had been spent taking for granted what they had. Lost were the days where he would watch her perform daily activities, or endure her teasing in the marketplace, or dodge the small items she was throwing in her childish fits of anger.

Pulled back from his thoughts as the silence was broken, there was a child's shriek lingering in the air. When everything had returned into focus, a small boy had thrown himself at the body, burying his head in her bosom as tears streamed down his face. The older of her two brothers approached calmly, kneeling by the younger one and watching him mourn.

But the man most hurt by the scene had already turned away, returning to his dwelling place to grieve in private.

Devastated, he thought again as his head hung over the bowl. He vomited freely until his heaving produced nothing; and he knew that "devastation" was the closest word he could find to describe the emotion which flowed through his veins.

A thin layer of sweat glistened on his brow, dripping small crystals onto the rim of the porcelain bowl. The image of her loomed in his mind, haunting his thoughts as her dead eyes bore into his soul. It was almost as though she was begging to return. Wanting…forgiveness?

But he was the one in need of forgiveness, for it was his fault she was now dead.

How stupid he was to have missed such an obvious detail! Yet, was he the last one to have noticed it? Could it have been the reason she had taken her life, and the reason she requested his absolution? Impossible! But he was certain…

No. No, it had to be a mistake.

Her stomach could not have possibly bulged in such a way when he had left. Then again…she had appeared slightly rounder than usual. She had suffered from a small stomach flu a few weeks earlier. And her eating habits definitely had altered.

No doubt about it.

His lover had been with child.