For Cain (who is a figment of my imagination)

He shifted his eyes to me. I looked into the deep green and embraced the cold I saw in their depths. I held his anger, his rage, his violence. I gathered it in my arms, accepting it. As I held his gaze, the cold began to thaw. One bloody guilt-ridden icicle at a time chipped off his soul. I held his gaze and his pain, and turned the ice into tears. He cried once stripped of his protective wall of anger. I held him, the man, instead of the monster he thought himself. I hoped that once I had melted enough of the ice, he would look in the mirror and see what I saw. I held him, the lost little boy with deep green eyes.