Some things can never be forgotten.
It was funny really, in that all too ironic twist his life seemed so often to take, but that was what came to mind first. When all his suppression failed to keep the memory down, when some unthinking acquaintance or uncaring member of the press brought it up.
Just a scream.
Not what came before; wading through piles of mud that was a branch that snapped underfoot, just a branch, don't think don'tthinkdon'tthink... Grasping pale limbs to overturn far-too-cold caricatures of faces he once knew, searching and searching until he found... whatever it was he had to find. -Needed- to find. Or rather, needed -not- to find...
It never called up memories of dirtied red hair, over too-still freckles and a face that would never redden in embarrassment or anger again. Never forced him to recall the frozen disbelief, the sense of we thought we'd get through this, together...
Just a scream. Only one, but it cut right through him in precisely the way that day's curses had failed to do. To him, at least.
After that, silence, and a crumpled form over a mud-spattered corpse. Warm fingers twined with cold, and through the dirt, a diamond ring sparkled like a reminder of promises shattered.