My breath was shattered from my lungs. A thousand thoughts I previously had in mind scattered faster than my ability to turn my focus into what I was being told.
Marvel's grip might stay firmly by my wrecked arm but his words did more damage than the weapon itself did to it.
I heard so much regret in his sound, intertwined with bitter remorse and shame in every hurtful phrase he conveyed. He couldn't even say sorry as if he didn't let himself be forgiven…
At a time like this, his vulnerability laughed cynically at him and how he couldn't fight his pain. Something was hurting him. It was bothering him. Traumatic. Everything was still there like it was before. Remaining, never completely fading.
