He didn't even respond to her plea.
How did it come to this?
Iris Harris lay on the bed, lost in thought.
How did she become so low, cheap, worthless?
All she did was like him, so why did he treat her this way?
She couldn't understand.
Just felt a deep pain in her heart, a pain so intense her tears wouldn't stop.
She had always understood.
Everything was her fault.
She had handed him the knife herself, giving him the weapon to hurt her.
She had given him the opportunity to hurt her.
It was all... her own fault.
No one else to blame.
Yet thinking this, her tears wouldn't stop; she was really heartbroken, heartbroken to the point of dying.
A disgust for herself, or a despair for the future.
After a long while, in the silent bedroom, the sobs slowly weakened. She closed her eyes, gripping the covers tightly, and softly called out: "Brandan..."
Please stop treating me like this.
I beg you, be gentle with me.
Give me the courage to wait for you.
