Marguerite lays there, eyes vacant, her heart empty of any soul. Armel stands a little further on the side, looking at her in hope that she may find it in her heart to return the longing gaze he throws at her.
Armel knows he has made a mistake, it was his mistake to take away her child after she had bonded with him. He should have taken him from her before she could even lay her eyes on him after birth.
He thought that he was being merciful by leaving him with her for a few years, but he was being cruel. Much crueller than he wanted.
Now Marguerite lays there with empty eyes all day, not caring about anything anymore. It has been many months, in the past, she would have at least had the strength to throw stuff at him in anger.
But now, she doesn't even seem to notice when he touches her. She is like a frozen statue, frozen in time and frozen in space.
