26. Bug-Eaten Psychedelism
Her fingers are tight against his throat, cutting off his air and slowly killing him- but he doesn't mind.
Her eyes are wild, once-vibrant blue turned dull, dark sapphire. He used to love to watch her eyes brighten when he appeared, but it seems those days have long passed.
What he did was unforgivable.
Death by her hand would be nothing less than fitting.
He just didn't want her to leave. Len loved her so much that he wanted her only to himself. He couldn't control himself when it came to her, couldn't imagine that she'd disappear one day into the cruel world they lived in. She means so much, and he refused to let go.
So he'd made Rin his. He'd stripped her of her innocence, made her scream in disbelief and pain, left scars on her body she would never, ever heal from. It was nothing like what he wanted; it was agonizing even for him. Len can still feel her skin under his fingertips, the bruises he'd made, the sorrow she'd felt.
He only wanted her to stay with him, to love him, but instead he had broken her.
"I hate you," she whispers, her words no louder than the rustling of the wind, tears dripping down her porcelain cheeks. Her strength is from pure force of will. He's not even making an effort to fight back.
He's starting to black out, and for a moment he truly thinks he's about to die; but suddenly her fingers slacken, sliding down his neck and clutching into his shirt. Burbled sobs escape her throat, and she screams into his chest, angry at herself, at him, her rage searing hot through his clothes.
She was once so strong- but she's nothing but a shadow of her former self because of his selfishness.
Though he has no right he encircles her, feeling her tense in reflex, the effect of his actions controlling her. He hates himself, and loves her; he loves himself enough to hurt her, and hates her enough to never let go.
How pitiful they both are.
"I'm sorry."