I loathe you, Draven, the words played in his head like countless needles piercing his skin, a dagger's stab as painful as the one inflicted into his chest many years ago.
The thought of Madeline hating him filled him with fear. Hearing it directly from her now made something even worse coil inside him, beyond fear and to his dismay, something he couldn't explain...
I loathe you, the words repeated, refusing to let him be. Damn, he could withstand if everybody hated him, but not Madeline. Not the one who had shown him care despite his coldness, not the one who had brought him happiness after years of torment.
He pounded his fist on the marble brown wall beside him, creating a crack, but he didn't care. His eyes darkened momentarily, a touch of sadness crossing through him, a full load of fear.
Realization dawned on him that he wouldn't bear it if Madeline loathed him, that he would feel incredibly lonely if she left and never returned.
