I saw her standing there, cold and alone, staring at the place her heart used to live, now just rotting, stinking; being eaten at endlessly until it is gone, ceases to be, endless emptiness filling its place. Her eyes still filled, overflowing as they did for a year now, but maybe her eyes had no conception of time, or maybe they wept for that heart she lost, so dear to her once, so dear to her always. If only those eyes filled with sorrow knew what she was really weeping for. Weeping for death; weeping for pain. Kept in the dark by that blindfold, if only her hands could remove it and see the light from that torch she held so dearly to, but her mind is distraught by those eyes. Those eyes that weep endlessly for what she cannot see. The earth's pleas muted by those eyes. I saw her standing there and I lied. I let slip the evil I so detested in where her heart lay right through my teeth. Why? She held that heart of darkness so near, so dear.
Marlow's lie.
