“Please cut it from my heart. Take your knife, your magic, and just carve his memory from my brain,” she pleaded.
The woman stared down at her with wicked eyes and said, “Only you can do that.”
“How? I’ve tried. I’ve used love and pain and words and distraction. Nothing will remove the memory of his arms, his lips. Nothing will make me forget how it feels to have him see me for the first time, to feel his skin against mine, the heat that builds between us, guarding us against the frigid world. Nothing.”
“And nothing ever will. There is no spell to unblight your heart. You found in him the only joy you’ve ever known, the only safety you’ve truly felt. He helped to make you. He will always be inside you.” She turned away, her black hair blowing in the dark air.
“You have to help me,” she begged, her voice shuddering under the gravity of defeat.
The woman turned back, examining the shattered girl clinging to the ground like the last frayed edges of her hope, and she said, “The only way is to go there, tell him. It’s the only way. Magic can’t help you now.”
As the witch walked away, she heard the girl’s lonely, hopeless cries, and she wondered if she’d find the courage to go.