Blindspot

Confession

"Why are you doing this?" she asked. He had already read this question in her eyes before she motioned it to him. 

"You wanted to die. I am giving you a way out," his voice held no emotion as he continued to stare at her fixedly.

Helplessness crossed her features. 

She inwardly cursed the maid who saved her. At least she would have been in peace now. If only she had arrived a few moments later, she would have been gone. 

She lowered her gaze as tears dripped down her eyes. 

"What? change of mind? Don't want to die anymore?" she detected a tinge of sarcasm in his tone.  

He leaned back a little all the while subjecting her to his unrelenting stare.  

"Don't ever pull this stunt again," he warned her sternly. 

A roll of tear dropped into the glass as she continued to stare at it intently. 

"Now put the glass down," he instructed her. A moment of silence passed as he waited for her to obey him. She didn't.   

" Put the glass down this instant, Inessa," his voice raised and became more demanding. But she didn't obey. Her hands were trembling a little but only for a moment. 

"Inessa," he warned her. In one swift motion, she brought the glass to her lips.

She closed her eyes and parted her lips to gulp it down her throat and let it burn her insides but just when the liquid touched her lips, the glass was forcefully drawn away. 

"What the fuck are you doing?" he thundered down at her. At some point, he had managed to rush over to her. He tried to snatch the glass from her but she held on to it as if her life depended on it in this situation, her death. 

"Give me the glass, Inessa," he gritted out, utterly displeased by her behavior. She responded by pulling the glass back. Some of the liquid spilled down the glass. Tears continued to stream down her eyes. 

She wanted to die. She was tired of everything. She was tired of being prey, being a toy all damn time. What he did yesterday had pushed her over the edge. It didn't only hurt her, it killed her. What hurt the most was that he was the one who did this to her. He made her feel like a slut last night. He knew how much she hated it then why did he do that. 

Despite everything he did, a silly part of her was still enamored with him. It still craved for him. It was her unfounded feelings that had made her tell him what she had never dared to repeat even to herself. And it had felt so good. How relieved she had felt when she didn't see contempt in his eyes for her after she was done telling him the story.

But yesterday. He broke her completely. She had been humiliated countless times but the last night had left an incurable scar. Maybe it was because the one who gave that scar was him. 

"I said give it to me," he held the glass tightly. So tightly that it soon crashed into pieces, piercing their palms. The pain was quick to sweep across her features as the red liquid mixed their blood spilled from between their fingers. 

"Damn it," he cursed and kneeled in front of her as he forcefully made her uncurl her fingers from around the glass. She couldn't fight.  

The glass dropped to the floor with a shattering sound. He straightened her palm. She winced in pain. 

"It will hurt," he glanced up at her to gauge her reaction. Her eyes were squeezed shut. 

He looked down and started gently pulling the shards from her palm, ignoring his own wounded hand.