Maxon's POV:
  Ever since I learned of her death, everywhere I look my thoughts somehow come back to her. As I lie in my bed, unable to sleep, it is my door that causes me to remember brighter times. Weeks ago, she had walked through that door, for the first and last time, gasping at my collage. I follow her actions, turning to my collage, trying once again to distract myself. It always used to work when I was little. It lasts about five seconds....then I spot her peeking out of a corner. She's wearing a magnificent emerald green dress, fitted to her waist with a sleek and shiny bottom that had sparkled when she moved. He lovely hair was pulled back into an intricate web of braids. Her blue eyes lively , embedded with surprise and delight as I had snapped. I remember that day so clearly....I had been taking some shots around the palace, when I heard beautiful singing. Following the noise, I had happened across America. "Smile!" I had shouted. She had turned, startled just as I took the shot. "Maxon!" She had giggled......I'll never forget the sound of her singing. It was truly immaculate. A fresh wave of sorrow hits me hard, making it hard to keep myself composed. The last thing I need is a guard to come rushing in, concerned that I was hurt, happening upon my crying. I quickly turn toward my desk and walk that way. I'll just work. That'll distract me. Again, that doesn't last long. I remember sitting here all through Christmas, writing to her letters I'd never thought she'd see. Finally, i give up, and let my tears fall. Slowly, I reach into my drawer and pull them out. After I had learned her dead, I had gone to her room and fallen asleep on her bed, taking in her sent for the last time ever. Rest assured, once morning reached it had faded almost completely. Just as her presence in this world. On my way out, I had found the letters sitting on her table, right next to that jar with a penny in it. The jar. It had always bugged me me, but not only until recently had I learned exactly what it meant. Sighing sadly, I had gently picked back up the letters. Ever since I had been adding to them, writing to her daily. It almost makes it feel like she's still here, like she's just away, and will return any minute. I do almost convince myself that- I just push the truth away. It actually works pretty well, that is, except for when I have down time. Which is when, similar to now, her memory comes haunting me. I just couldn't believe it! I can't believe she's gone! It seems only yesterday that she would lean into my shoulder, her vanilla sent wafting up to me, telling me that she isn't my dear. It might have annoyed me at the time, but now I would give anything just to hear her voice one more time.
Sighing, I put the papers gently back into my drawer, and pushed my chair in, heading back toward my bed. I can already tell that's it's going to be a long night. In Between losing America, the everyday stress of ruling a country, and the unpleasant event scheduled for tomorrow...I'd be surprised if I slept at all. I half consider going for a walk in the garden, but I'm not sure that I can handle that yet. Or ever. The gardens where ours. Walking into them without her by my side would be like breathing without in taking any oxygen. I'd be drowning in memories. Sighing I lay down staring at the ceiling as my head trails off in thoughts. I am not looking forward to tomorrow. Don't get me wrong, I wish America's murder death, but to actually see that happen is a whole new level. I can't put my word on it, but something about this whole thing just feels wrong...
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