~*~
Why didn’t I do it?
It would have been easier if he had. He would have been a monster. His world would have made sense again, and he could have killed her without feeling that emotion that should have been foreign to him…guilt.
But instead he was caught between the two. She’d said it, hadn’t she? He’d said it, too. Can’t be a monster, can’t be a man.
If he had even the slightest bit of sense left, he’d stake himself. Put both himself and her out of their misery. But for some reason, he couldn’t. Something inside of him still wanted to cling to this world, to somehow make amends with her for what he’d done.
He sat down, burying his head in his hands, that single question reverberating through his skull:
Why didn’t I do it?
And, quieter, the anguished screaming of the man who still lived, somewhere inside him:
What have I done?
~*~
Why didn’t he do it?
It would be easier if he had. If he’d gone through with it, like he must have before, then she could have hated him easily.
But when he reeled back, with that horrified look in his eyes—when he fled from her, like he couldn’t bear her seeing him—she couldn’t hate him. She felt anger, yes, even fury, but not hate.
If he’d done it, she would have been right. It would have meant that he didn’t really love her. But instead he’d stopped, and the guilt in his eyes made him nearly human—and it hurt to see.
That was why, when she slumped to the floor of the bathroom, the question eating her up was:
Why didn’t he do it?
And worse, when she thought of him as a person, not a monster, and remembered how she’d treated him, was the second question:
What have I done?
~*~
Author's Chapter Notes:
This, actually, isn't a repost--so eat your heart out =D