Author Notes: The word 'merciless' was singing off key in my brain. Forgive the horrible writing please!!!
Merciless
He stared bitterly at the place where she had stood just a moment ago.
The witch was merciless and he hated that.
Of all the things he could call the girl in question 'merciless' was possibly the harshest of insults in his mind. The way she glared at him made his blood boil; the way she recoiled at his touch caused his temple to twitch and the way she stood, proud before him, caused his entire body to tingle in irritation.
Merciless was a harsh word yet in all his feeling he didn't, he couldn't, believe it defined her at all.
As he slumped against the wall behind him, trying to gather some composure, his thoughts were bitter.
She was merciless for her ability to hate him.
She was merciless for remaining cold in his presence.
She was merciless for not caring anything about him.
She was merciless for not having a clue as to exactly why his heart was currently pounding erratically in his chest.
No amount of hate could cause this sort of feeling. So many years of hate should not have developed into this sort of feeling.
She was merciless for not feeling anything at all.
And yet he couldn't believe that 'merciless' defined her at all.