Through gritted teeth, I watched him release my hand.
“Do it, Sophia.”
I wrenched the knife free.
He groaned, blood covering my face.
The scent of iron pulled my mind back to that rainy night in high school.
I staggered and fell, but he caught me swiftly.
“Don’t be afraid. It’s okay, I’m here.”
His hand brushed my cheek gently.
Blood from his forehead dripped onto my face, one drop after another.
His eyes held no concern for his own wound, only worry for me.
On countless nights when my father beat me half to death, he had held me the same way. Shielding me with his back against beer bottles, chairs, even knives.
Grinning at me through the curses:
“Don’t be afraid. It’s okay, I’m here.”
We once embraced in blood, kissed in storms.
When love reaches its peak, betrayal becomes all the more monstrous.
I shoved him away.
“Don’t touch me.”
Stumbling, I left that room thick with blood.
For a time, we stayed apart.
And the girl—she remained sheltered under his protection, hidden beyond my reach.
But in the end, the girl was still young.
She couldn’t hold herself back and came to find me.
“Have you been looking for him lately? I’ll just tell you—he’s with me.”
Dressed in couture, she smirked triumphantly.