I was his captive.
I was his enemy.
And yet, here I was, willingly offering him a part of my soul. A part of my being. Anybody else would cower in his presence. Anybody else would beg him for mercy. But not me. I wasn't afraid of him.
The door swung open with enough force to rattle the whole room. Normally that would have made me flinch. But somehow I knew who had walked in. More like who had prowled into the room like a hurricane. My body shivered at his presence. He was angry. He had every reason to be.
Despite his angry footsteps approaching, I didn't move from my spot in the bathroom. I was at the sink, staring at my reflection in the mirror when a pair of blue eyes caught mine. They were cold and fiery at the same time. "Why?", he snarled the question from the threshold.
Why?
I asked myself again observing the splatters of blood that caked my face.