He grabs at my hands, clutching them, and I whimper in response, not in protest, I just... don't deserve his touch, especially not his concerned touch.

I want to fall against him. Listen to his heartbeat. Draw strength from him. I want him to wrap me up in his arms and tell me everything is okay.

I've hurt him too much, more than I can ever make up for. I garb roughly at his hand, my bloody finger marking him. I shouldn't be doing that. I just shouldn't.

"Okay..." I whisper, trying and failing to lift myself up, stand on my own two feet.