Sparkling
The stars were spectacular that night, but Pansy couldn’t be bothered. Not even her love of astronomy was enough to pull the numbness from her. Instead she sat on the ledge of her flat, her body pulled impossibly tight against herself. Absentmindedly she scratched at her skin, wanting out of her body, out of this place. It was unfair, it was all unfair. She scratched harder, the heat of her blood rising. Maybe she could scratch away the pain, the history, the blood on her hands.
Maybe she could be sparkling clean, worthy of something good.
The tears were coming again, falling desperately against her cheeks as if they couldn’t leave her body fast enough. It brought no relief, the coolness of the night lost to her. She had tried to be good, to repent, to repair. And it was happening all over again, the level of personal vendetta targeting her just the same. Yet Daphne was gone, the rest of them were still standing. For now.