"Shut the fuck up!" he shouted, his frustration boiling over. He forced me to meet his gaze, his eyes filled with a mixture of anger and desperation.
Why didn't you fight back before, Paul?
My words echoed with a mixture of regret and confusion, seeking answers in the shadows of our tangled emotions.
I meant to hurt you, but instead of doing so, I hurt myself.
Instead of punishing you, I am punishing myself.
I've never thought of it in this way before.
He instantly yanked me onto his chest.
"Why are you putting up with me like this?" he asked, his voice a mixture of frustration and yearning. "Is it really so awful that you can't come with me?"
"I killed my mother only for you," he confessed, a dark truth laid bare. "And I changed myself just for you. I'm trying to be a better man. I've punished everyone who has harmed you, and I'm even punishing myself. So, what's the point?"
