The Eternal Despair of Abigail

As Mark stepped out of Samuel's cell, the heavy metal door clanged shut behind him. He exhaled deeply, still reeling from the conversation he had just had with Samuel. The cold, lifeless tone in Samuel's voice had shaken him to his core. He couldn't help but feel the weight of everything Samuel had endured, the loss of his humanity, the pain of betrayal—and now, the finality of it all.

But as Mark turned to leave, something caught his eye—a figure seated in the far corner of the dim hallway. His breath hitched when he recognized her: Abigail.

She was sitting motionless in the shadows, her face partially hidden, but her eyes—eyes that seemed to carry the weight of regret and sorrow—were locked on the door of Samuel's cell. She had been listening.

Mark stopped in his tracks, his eyes narrowing. He hadn't expected her to be here, not after everything.

Abigail slowly stood up from her chair, her movements deliberate and measured. She stepped out from the shadows, her face pale, but her presence heavy with unresolved emotions.

Mark (firmly): "Abigail, what are you doing here?"

Abigail didn't answer immediately. Instead, she took a long, steady breath, almost as if she was trying to steady herself before speaking. When she finally looked up at Mark, there was a flicker of something—regret, sorrow, or perhaps something darker—in her eyes.

Abigail (softly): "I had to hear it from him... I needed to understand." Her voice was trembling, the cold indifference she often wore slipping away, revealing the woman behind the hardened exterior. "I needed to know what went wrong... what I did to him."

Mark felt a pang of sympathy for her, but it quickly faded when he remembered what had led to this moment. Abigail had played a role in Samuel's destruction, and no amount of regret could erase the damage done.

Mark (with a frown): "You don't get to just sit here and feel sorry for yourself. You've done enough damage, Abigail. Samuel's not the same man he was. You might be the reason for that."

Abigail winced, but she didn't back down. She had already known, in her heart, that Mark's words were true. She had failed him in ways that she couldn't even comprehend, and now, seeing the person Samuel had become—this hollow version of the man she had once loved—was eating away at her from the inside.

Abigail (quietly): "I know. I know, Mark. And I wish I could take it all back. But I can't." She wiped a tear from her cheek, though she tried to keep her composure. "I… I never wanted him to lose himself like this. I never wanted him to hate me."

Mark took a step closer, his voice growing more pointed.

Mark (sternly): "But you still pushed him. You pushed him away, and now look at him. Look at what he's become. He's given up everything—his emotions, his desires, his humanity. All for what? For you to finally see the damage you've caused? He's beyond saving now, Abigail. And you have to face that."

Abigail felt the sting of Mark's words. They cut deeper than anything Samuel had said to her, because she knew Mark was right. She had been the one to break him, piece by piece, over time. And now, she could only watch as Samuel became someone she no longer recognized—a person with no soul left to burn, no love left to give.

Abigail (whispering): "I never meant for it to get this far. I just... I just wanted control. But now, I don't even know who he is anymore."

Mark looked at her with pity in his eyes, but his tone remained unwavering.

Mark (coldly): "You didn't want control, Abigail. You wanted to win. And in the process, you lost him. And now, you'll never get him back."

Abigail swallowed hard, her mind racing with thoughts of how she could fix it, how she could make things right. But the truth hung in the air like a heavy fog. She had made her choices, and Samuel had made his. There was no going back now.

Abigail (with a hint of desperation): "What can I do, Mark? What can I possibly do to undo the damage?"

Mark's eyes softened for a brief moment, but he still held his ground.

Mark (sighing): "Sometimes, Abigail, there's nothing left to fix. You just have to live with it. You have to live with what you've done."

With that, Mark turned and walked away, leaving Abigail standing alone in the hallway. The sound of his footsteps echoed as he disappeared down the corridor, and Abigail was left in the silence of her thoughts.

The weight of the past pressed down on her shoulders, suffocating her with the realization that the man she had once tried to control, the man she had tried to shape into something else, was lost to her. And now, there was no way to reach him. Not anymore.

Abigail closed her eyes, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. But the truth was undeniable: she had broken Samuel, and now she had to live with the consequences of that brokenness for the rest of her life.