He didn't have feelings, they said.
Some would say that he was insensitive. Others said that his "affection" was never backed up by true emotions. Perhaps there was some truth to their words, the words of those who had had their heart torn to pieces by a man who drew them closer to him with his sweet words, whispering ever-lasting lies in his victims' ears, before turning and leaving for yet another's love. And perhaps his flippant attitude could hurt and sting others, without leaving a single scar on his own heart.
Maybe all that was true. Maybe he did hurt, and sting, and capture, and deceive. But one thing was sure, she knew. One thing was certain, as the translucent ghost of a young woman looked on, soft blue eyes shining with remorse. The man in front of her, hanging onto sanity by only the remnants of a broken spirit, turned his head to the dark gray sky, rivers of tears streaming down his dirt-smudged face. Clutching the remains of a scorched female body ever closer to him, an agonizing scream sounded from his constricted throat, both weak and wild with harsh despair. The suave facade, the careless mask, all defenses of his mind had broken down.
A silent sigh escaped her lips. This time, a feeling stronger than her remorse came to her. Pity. Because, despite all they said, he had all the feelings a human could ever have.