[There is no judgement in her eyes, no disappointment. She doesn't recoil like he wants to from this fact, this memory, merely cares for him, and maybe that's way he pulls away slightly, reaches to grab her wrist and drop his eyes between them. He can't bear it, the acceptance, when all he feels is gutted and self-loathing over it, but he's too selfish to entirely deny it. There's a part of him that knows he did the only thing he could but now in retrospect he wonders if that's true. He wonders a lot.]
no subject
He was going to kill me. Kill Ali.