It is by my imprisonment that you walk free.
I imagine you'll never forget it. I hope it will haunt you, hurt you, shadowing your every step and making sure there's never a moment when the guilt doesn't have you shackled and insensible. I hope it will weigh heavy on your already-overburdened soul.
It doesn't seem that way, though. You were rather flippant about the whole thing when you came to visit me in my prison, you in your fine clothing and me in my rags, you being as civilized as you never claimed to be and I a gaunt, wasted little thing without a friend in the world.
You killed them, and that I am sure you can never forget. You'll never fail to remember the look on Ghastly's face - you remember Ghastly, don't you, your best friend, the one you murdered, with that impossibly sharp knife, the one you used to cut him more scars than he already had. You always did say you could never keep your friends, and I am inclined to agree.
I'm sure you'll never escape the memory of China's perfection, how lovely she was even covered with sweat and blood and not much by way of clothing. I can only imagine it, and you saw it yourself, and I would guard that memory to my grave. I daresay you will too.
You'll never stop hearing Tanith's last scream. You shot her, and the death was quick, for you. She still had time to scream, though, so it was hardly merciful. I wasn't there to hear, but you were, and do the echoes ever get trapped in your skull, bouncing in on you until you are deafened?
You'll probably forget me, locked up here, with the deaths of my loved ones pinned to my name. It's a shame, that they're gone, and I do wish you hadn't framed me, but I won't be too bitter.
I still love you, after all.
A/N: Ah, AUs. They are so much fun.
~Mademise Morte, November 14, 2010.