The blade in her grasp ached her wrist. Like an uncleaned paintbrush, the remnants of her work remained on the delicate steel. Crimson paint smothered her canvas. His chest was hollow. The paint ran through every wrinkle in her weighted palm like a...
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"You never touched me, but you sure as hell hurt me just as bad."
Benjamin Wadsworth as Dominic Langcastle
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"I was wrong. Maybe you aren't better off without him."
I stared at her grave.
Lillian Cox. 1960-1979.
Suicide.
Bled out on her kitchen floor.
Mary wept beside me as the casket with the body of the girl I once loved was lowered into the ground with the headstone behind her.
Not many people were there. Regulus was. And the rest of those Slytherins. Us, of course. And a man I'd never seen before. But he was wailing like a child.
"Elliot, would you like to give a few words?" Inkwood whispered to him.
The tall man nodded, gulping and wiping his bloodshot eyes before stepping out. "I loved Lillian," He started and I felt my stomach tighten.
Not like I did. I thought to myself but then realised that I wasn't the one suffocating on my own sobs.
"I -- I just -- I wish I could've stopped her," He said in his thick French accent, "We were to marry in the late summer -- I have been left wondering if it was me,"
I glanced down at Mary who had taken my hand while tears streamed down her cheeks.
"I don't think I'll ever get the image out of my head," He tightened his grip on the small podium, "The blood -- I remember trying to stop it all -- But there was so much..." He swallowed, blowing his nose on his hankie, "My dove was nineteen. She was only a girl -- only young yet she was wise beyond all of our years combined. Her smile will be what I miss most -- she always gave me the brightest smile."
