Westing

Windy sauntered down the hallway towards the designated room for the reading of his will.  Ahead of him, coming from the other direction, a couple appeared from around the corner, heading towards the same room.   

"Crow."  He breathed her name softly, indistinguishably.  It had been too long since he had seen her - really seen her - last.  The deep stabbing regret seeped into him again, but he pushed it aside. 

She had insisted on him calling her Crow.  Berthe was too formal.  Too rigid.

She was with Amber, of course.  Stiff and afraid, though she was hiding it well, she seemed to take comfort in Amber's presence. 

He should have known this would happen.  But it didn't matter.  She would never take him back. 

The first time he had ever laid eyes on her was on their wedding day.  He had looked up to see a small, trembling girl walking gracefully down the aisle.  Their eyes met for an instant before she looked down again, afraid.  Of course she was afraid of him.  She was only 17.  So young.  He nearly began to cry. 

But he mustn't think of this now.  He needed to stay in character.    He was Sandy McSouthers these days.  Whistling a little tune, he strolled down the hall. 

"You seem awfully chipper," Amber commented, approaching.  

Sandy laughed.  "You would be, too, if the man you most despised up and dies and then goes and names you in their will." 

"It is not wise to speak ill of the dead," Crow commented stiffly. 

Violet...

The smile slid from his face and he swallowed hard.  "I won't say another word," he promised as the three of them entered the room together. 

Sandy looked around to see only four seats remaining, two on each side of the room.  Quickly cutting off Amber, he sat next to Crow, smiling to himself as Amber crossed dejectedly to the other side of the room and sat down .

Sandy focused on Crow.  He knew her to a fault.  He could always sense every emotion from her.  Every motion was a clue to how she was really feeling, no matter the outward appearance. 

She had stopped drinking, he realized.  She was stronger than him.  Better than him.  She had beaten the addiction.  He pulled out his flask, feeling her stiffen as he took a drink from it. 

Hell, she must hate me.  For everything I've done. 

The intense self-loathing welled up again.  The pain in his chest so great he almost pressed a hand to it, trying to still the pain. 

Violet...  Cold.  Dead.  Horribly and completely dead. 

Maybe his death was more meaningful than he had originally planned. 

Crow sobbing. 

No...

She was pale and cold. Her lifeless body draped in his arms.

He didn't care.  It wasn't like before. 

It was Crow's fault.  She deserved to suffer. 

Dark.  Cold. 

She was sitting right there.  He wanted...  he wanted to apologize.  He wanted her back.  He wished... 

His face wet with tears he didn't know he could cry anymore. 

But this was not how it used to be.  Things had changed. 

As long as she was happy now. 

I hate myself. 

Then the pain would be worth it. 

The pain of seeing her again after so many years. 

Crow.