“She loved you.”
“Theo loved you,” she whispers.
I remain unfazed, Theodosia was no different than the others. She was just another toy to entertain me until I got bored with her. She served her purpose and now remains as a simple statue; her icy physique blends with the walls of my palace.
“Her feelings mean nothing to me, they never have.”
The woman in front of me—having an unknown relation to Theodosia—begins to cry. Once her tears begin there is no stopping them. She sobs pathetically.
She glares at me through her tears. Fury burns behind her eyes, though it appears dull whence intertwined with her sadness.
I step towards her, a cloud of bitter air following. Her eyes widen and she steps back. I take another step, larger than my first. She, once again, steps back shakily. This continues until I loom over her, and her back is pinned against the icy wall.
Glassy tears stream down her face; she weakly looks away.
I lean closer to her face and a blush spreads across her cheeks, I can’t help but smirk at the way she reacts to me.
I can feel the heat radiating off of her and, suddenly, she becomes irresistible. I can feel my lips on hers, but I don’t acknowledge the contact. I’m aware that her body is pressed against mine, but I take no consideration towards the fact.
I’m empty.
My mind escapes despite myself.
I cannot feel, my being is present but my mind is not.
She’s still crying, her sobs mingle with her shivering—a reaction to my cold. The frigid air that pools around my body engulfs her entirely, her tears are the first to react. The tears residing at the base of her jaw freeze, and the thin line of ice trails up her face.
She quickly jerks away from me, and brings a shaky hand to trace the line of ice that shines dully on her face.
She desperately tries to brush the tears out of her eyes, but it’s too late.
The thin trail of ice travels up towards her eyes.
The glassy ice covers her striking blue eyes.
Nothing can possibly limn the despair gathering in the pit of my stomach.
A feeling of mourning engulfs me, and I gently stroke her cheek.
She falls to her knees.
Her silky hair follows in suit.
The ice travels down her face and roams her body. It continues, leaving a trail of beautiful destruction until it reaches her delicate fingertips. I fixate my eyes upon her delicate fingers; it leaves me in a trance-like state.
Her body is freed of life.
I hook my thumb with hers.
I wasn’t done with her, not yet.
She becomes utterly captivating.
No longer am I able to have her, to kiss her, to touch her. The thought makes me want her, crave her.
She’ll simply become another captivating statue I’ll display through the glassy walls I isolate myself with.

Submitted by:

Twila Wright