She returned because he was more abusive than any physical pain, and subconsciously, she liked this. He sat on the edge of a splintered table, while t...e dim lights flickered overhead. His arrogant eyes were aimed low as he used the box-cutter to clean perfect fingernails. His image was a deity, to Ella. All the prettiness, the smooth skin, the flux of color in his bright eyes, That’s their job, Ella. They’re supposed to care. It’s an act! They’re paid to give a shit about your health.. "It's blood that does it. I've always been queasy about blood. My father found it amusing. As a boy I revelled in stories of battles and bloodshed and it never bothered me. Even now I love listening to warriors talk about their deadly deeds. But show me blood and I become ill. My father laughed at that. The man revelled in swordplay and drawing blood while I hid from it. He said I would never be a great ruler so long as I couldn't draw the blood of another man. I guess he was right." Do your. More

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