Ten inches away. Her reflection is the image of revolving insanity. What did she do to deserve this? She used to be so beautiful, so complete, and now she'll never see him again. That hollow certainty has her convinced that she's at fault, just like she was at fault the first time.
Seven inches away. Tresses of tangled, dirty hair are just beginning to float at the surface of the murky December water. Her pallid skin tightens around her bones in the frigid air, her body shaking violently as a last resort that she doesn't notice. Two won't replace one. They're only little unborn burdens.
Three inches away. As the wind blows, her reflection is rippled like a pixelated photo. Her one warm breath presents an obstacle for her vision, although she's not seeing anything at the moment. She's done everything to deserve this, of course. She doesn't even recognize herself. He'd hate her for that. He's the one who always gripped to his sanity like a precious gem. She would disgust him if he were to see her now.
No more reflections, now. She's too weak to fight off the unfrozen ice water that meets the tip of her nose, then encases her face. It doesn't take long. She's dying for three, after all. No, four. She's dying for four.
And suddenly, she's only ten inches away from him. Then seven.
A/N: If I had more time on my hands, I would report every ridiculous and grammatically incorrect story in this fandom. Unfortunately, there are only twenty-four hours in a day.
Disclaimer: It all belongs to Eoin Colfer, who would most likely kill himself if he saw what fangirls did to his characters.
