Zevran.
I do not know for how long I laid on the floor in the cold snow writhing away in agony, but by the time the pain finally stopped— only a little— it was already deep into the afternoon.
My body was covered in marks and bruises from where I had desperately scratched at myself whilst seeking relief, and even though I knew deep down that she hadn't slept with him yet. That she hadn't gone all the way. I still couldn't help but feel so terrible.
I still couldn't help but feel like a piece of shit.
Because come to think of it, it wasn't her fault but mine— ours.
She would've never hurt us if we didn't hurt her first. We would've never lost her if we weren't so stupid and blind.
While these thoughts ladies my mind, in came another, which was:
And was this… was this how she always felt whenever we slept with Chalice? Was this how she always feels whenever we did this with other people?
