When I found (name), she was drinking at Madame Christmas'. Her face held a delightful flush, over her cheekbones. The rosy color made her beautiful eyes pop- even though they were foggy from alcohol. Both of us suffered from the same thing- terrible memories filled with blood and death, blood and death which we caused. Sitting beside her, I told Madame to give me the same. Judging by the look she gave me, (name) was there since the night bar opened.
"Hey, Roy." (Name) whispered, slurring the words so much I could barely understand her. I was surprised she even recognised me. "Do you ever think about time?"
"I do not quite understand you."
"Ya know. That dumb saying. Something about time and wounds. I think it's wrong 'cause time sure as fuck didn't heal mine." (Name) snorted then slammed back the green alcoholic drink, immediately ordering another while slipping a banknote to Madame. "Did it heal yours, Roy?"
"No, no it didn't." I answered while I watched Madame pour (name) glass after glass. "But it gets easier."
For a few minutes, (name) gazed into the glass full of green liquid. Her lips trembled when she looked at me and the pain in those eyes of her was strong enough to bring the coldest of men to his knees. The guilt hit me like a mallet. How could I not see that (name) was suffering when she came to comfort me all those years ago?
"Take me home?" She begged, sounding beyond broken.
Nodding, I stood up and helped her stand. I threw my coat over her hunched shoulders. She looked so tiny and frail- like a flower in a storm, petals already being blown away.
The trek home was slow. When we arrived to her house, (name) invited me in. As she walked from the foyer, (name) shed her clothes. Scars littered the entire surface of her body- pink, red and white. They intersected like dozens of webs. I recognized the burns from the fire I have created.
She was still beautiful and so, so strong. Though she has seen all of her victims, though she touched and tortured them, all those children and people- she managed to keep herself together longer than I have.
I love her, that strong and amazing woman.
[It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.' I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone.
Rose Kennedy]
