It was the first of December. On December 19, Virginia would go missing. We had less than three weeks left together, though of course I could not know that. Or perhaps I did know. After all, a terrible, restless darkness had been inching toward her every day. I had sensed it, I had almost tasted it, yet I had dismissed it as nonsense. In the end, I had not believed her, despite my steadfast promises. In the end, I left her to face that terrible, hungry darkness on her own.
