You Drew First Blood
Every breath burned.
Eyes that hours earlier had shone a beautiful hue of blue green full of mirth, were now bloodshot - red rimmed from tears. No matter how long or slow he tried to breathe, he felt like he couldn't get enough air into his lungs to stop the fire that was engulfing him and scorching him from the inside out.
Laying on the bed surrounded by wreckage that had been his room, the thought repeated like a mantra "How could he?!" . The pain was unparalleled by any he'd ever known. No sword could cut like this. It was a constant unending agony that seemed to lash him anew with each beat of his heart. At first he'd cried. Dry gut wrenching sobs had shook his frame for hours. He'd never felt such a cacophony of emotions - so betrayed, so used, so hurt.
The sole source of comfort during it all was once his heart was done aching, and his body finished breaking, he'd piece himself back together and repay the pain tenfold. He was suffering first, but he certainly would not suffer alone.