I am almost too tired to write now.
The healing process takes a lot of energy and I find that sleep is difficult to maintain. Whilst I have no choice but to lie here and rest my body, my mind will not leave me be. Everytime I close my eyes, I see him again. His face swimming in the depths of the darkness, his cold blue eyes staring into my soul; judging, mocking, accusing. I cannot escape it.
Whilst Davick is here I put on a brave face. I do not wish him to see how terrible I feel, to know how all of this is truly effecting me. He would only sneer at the softness of my heart, as per usual. So, I smile and I laugh and offer him sympathy all the while dying a little more each day, my spirit weeping bitter tears for the crime I have committed.
Perhaps this is what my life has always been leading to. Perhaps it was for this that I have been endlessly punished in advance. Everything else has always been backwards for me, so why not this as well? Does that excuse it, though? Does that mean that I have paid my pennance already? I do not think so. What else, then, does fate have in store for me that could be worse than what I have done?
Every hour or so, I hear the sharp, mournful cry of a hawk. I never see it, but the call haunts me. Whilst I cannot see much through the window from the bed save for the boughs of tall trees at the far end of the glade, I feel as though I am being watched. It seems as if the bird knows where I am and it is waiting for me. It is a fanciful notion and utterly ridiculous. I keep telling myself that. I cannot shake it, though.
