Darcy's Monologue

Was her desire to leave the flat miscommunicated? Did Darcy believe that the cause for her frantic pulling on his arm was caused by some other reason? Or was he so wrapped up in his own little world that she was just an annoyance to be dismissed with a wave of his hand? Apparently, she was! Why was it that every distraction known to man or beast, was set on detouring them? Since her youth, Olivia had never understood the purpose of 'small talk' and could honestly say that she detested it. The asinine conversations never seemed to stimulate her mind or her emotions, yet everyone else around her was quite content with such an annoying pleasantry. Countless times she had considered asking those around her why they engaged in small talk to try
Constantly watching in disgust as Darcy wasted second after precious second of her valuable time on mindless chatter to only Heaven knew! Didn't he understand how much she detested small talk from subtle hints she had dropped at their introduction? Clearly, he hadn't. The whore was certainly dead, but that didn't mean the police weren't getting close to removing her scattered remains or worse, they had already done so while Darcy and the nitwits droned on and on. If there was such a thing as God, he had a sick sense of humor and penchant for seeing Olivia squirm. However, all prior annoyance melted away the instant their slender figures weaved expertly through the crowd of onlookers towards their journey's end. Mentally the young woman had prepared herself for the sickening effigy but as her body broke through the thick crowd, her breath was instantly snatched away from her
'Look away', she thought furiously, her shimmering orbs never leaving his quivering form. If the young woman hadn't been so horrified by her lover's lack of a spine she might have laughed aloud at his misery. Why in the name of God would she ever desire to 'look away' from the whore's disfigured body? Hadn't the purpose of this particular excursion been exactly the opposite of what Mr. Oxenham had pleaded? To look into the face of horror? If Darcy hadn't fallen to his knees to dry heave, Olivia herself would have left him by the wayside to enjoy the gory scene. Perhaps when the moment passed and her nerves weren't raw with agitation, she could look back on this moment and cherish his sniveling whimpers, even recall the image to her mind long after she and Darcy were no longer an