Jason's POV
Megan had a long time to warm up to me, and it took even longer to persuade her to accompany me on our departure. She was afraid, so I didn't become angry when she didn't run up to me as soon as I entered the room. When she was terrified, it was only normal for her to avoid people as much as possible, and I didn't mind that. In these types of circumstances, all that was required was a calm voice, slow, soothing motions, and patience, and I was capable of handling that.
Her hands and legs dangled freely as I carried her, and she hung limp in my arms. She wasn't stiff in my arms, but I could tell she wasn't totally on board since she still avoided personal relationships and physical touch. She seemed frigid as her body trembled in my arms, but I knew otherwise. She was feeling terrified, and I felt completely helpless to assist her since I had no clue what to do. Knowing how useless I was to my partner and how much misery she was through, I felt pitiful for simply letting it go on since I couldn't stop it.
"It is real," My body responded to her voice causing goosebumps to appear on my skin as she murmured in my ear.
"What is real?" I returned her kind words while running my fingers over her hair in an effort to seem reassuring and comforting.
what is being spoken by everyone? I am a killer, they say." Her body tensed a little, and her voice did too. She seemed to be getting ready for a battle as it clenched and the muscles tightened.
I comforted Megan, "I don't care. "Everyone here is a murderer in some way or another." I shifted her weight in my arms before walking into our home and opening the door. Her head shook back and forth against my neck, and I could feel it.
No, you don't understand. Her voice started off softly, but it quickly became louder and louder.
What did you get, Sweetheart? In an effort to calm her down, I maintained a steady voice. "We are all the same; at some point or another, we have all had to kill something."
"You don't get it," I said. When I laid her down on the ground and released her, she snapped and pressed her palms into my chest. "I commit murder,"
"I'm sorry, Megan, I don't understand." My head cocked. "I have previously murdered people. I commit murder, just as you do. It makes no difference.
It does, indeed! I'm repulsive! I slaughtered innocent people to amuse myself. She yelled angrily at me. She dropped her head and covered her face with her hair. I'm an evil person. Her tone became shrill and frightened as she spoke.
So, you like murdering people? I inquired in an effort to better comprehend. Did you murder them just out of desire?
She was stunned by my queries, unable to respond before sobbing uncontrollably. Her cheeks were moist as tears ran down them, glistening in the sunshine. As I watched each tear fall from her face, my body ached at the sound of her sobs. She jerked back as I tried to give her a hug and pushed me hard away.
"No! I'm worthless, pitiful, and a shame!" She cried while screaming at me. Kids, I am a nasty killer who murdered the innocent. She sobbed and pulled me back even more, pressing her little fists into my chest as she did so. "You should strike me,"
A: "H-Hit you?" I gasped, shocked and perplexed by her unexpected outburst. Why do you believe I should punch you in the face?
"Because you should," she said. She stood in front of me motionless, her head down. She seemed to be waiting for me to pull my hand back and strike her.
"Why on earth would you even think that?" I inquired, horrified that she would even consider the possibility that I may touch her impermissibly.
Because I should be punished, is that why? She sounded as perplexed as I did. I shouted at you and shoved you. She stated it in a way that suggested she was certain I would have a good excuse to hurt her.
I made a strong statement, attempting to control the trembling in my hands, "I am never going to hit you."
The question "B-But, why?" She took a cautious step away and her eyes widened as though she thought I was lying to her. I couldn't stand the idea that she was scared of me or that she believed I would ever be untruthful.
"Because no one deserves to be hit over something so trivial, something so small like you expressing your opinions or becoming irate," the speaker said.
"You don't get it at all! I expect you to strike me! I must be punished by you. She sobbed and retaliated at me in a frenzy. "I am a hideous, disgusting beast that needs to be beaten into submission. They deserve justice since I took the lives of innocent people, and I should pay for it. I executed them harshly. I am a killer who is abhorrent and revolting. She then turned to face me while crying. You must strike me. She nearly seemed to be begging me to hurt my own partner by doing it.
I carefully and gently took hold of her hands, tying our fingers together, and held them close. I made care to retain eye contact and attempted to speak clearly, trying to control the trembling in my voice. You are not, in fact. You don't deserve to be struck, and I won't ever do it to you.
She turned away from me and yanked her hands out of my hold before moving ahead a short distance. I had to look away from her as my cheeks began to heat up and her hands tugged at her shirt and ripped it over her head. My senses became even more acute as my body became hyperaware of hers. My ears perked up at the sound of the cloth slamming on the floor.
Say, "Look at me." She muttered.
"I -- I cannot." My cheeks began to burn even more as the temperature crept up to my neck. You are impure, I say.
Say, "Look at me." She whispered it again, and I heard her bra come undone with a snap and make a little thud as it struck the ground, where it now lay next to her shirt. "Look at me, and please tell me that I am not a monster." Just as I gently turned my gaze toward her, I caught sight of her pulling her hair back against one shoulder so that the top of her back was visible.
Oh, Megan. One of my own tears ran out of my eyes as I sighed, and others quickly followed. The new skin layers had a gloss to them that reflected the light, and the scars were everywhere and deeply indented into her body. She assumed that I would find her disgusting or terrible, but instead, it made me believe that she was much more formidable than I had previously believed. She was much more stunning in my opinion, if anything. How did they treat you?