Jonathan's mind spiraled into a whirlpool of regret and anguish. How could the first woman he ever loved turn out to be so unworthy? The realization that he had hurt Clarisse for so many years over someone like Catherine tore at his soul. Regret, pain, guilt, and remorse intertwined, tearing at him from within. Bertram was right—Catherine's punishment wasn't nearly enough. He wanted her gone, erased from existence, with no hope of redemption.
He tightened his hold on the slender body in his arms. "Clarisse, I'm sorry... I'm so sorry. I deserve to die for what I've done."
Clarisse, sensing the root of his turmoil from his words, gently stroked his back in comfort. "Jonathan, don't blame yourself. Loving someone when you're young isn't a crime..."
But Jonathan refused to listen, pressing his head against her shoulder, his voice filled with anguish. "Clarisse, you've suffered so much because of me."
