He lets me. His hand stays on my waist but he doesn't stop me from facing him.
He looks calm, too calm.
"You killed him?" I whisper.
"Yes."
"How do you even know it was him?"
"I made sure it was him and I don't miss my target little spitfire."
His eyes harden when he says that.
"You're sure?"
"I watched him admit it."
My throat tightens.
I don't want details.
"When?" I ask.
"The very day you told me what he did, I went out to find him."
He's been walking around me. Sleeping beside me….. touching me Knowing that.
"You didn't tell me."
"No."
"Why."
His jaw clenches.
"Because I knew you'd look at me like this."
"Like what."
"Like I'm a monster."
My chest feels tight. I don't know what I'm feeling.
Anger tries to come up first.
"You had no right. That was my kill eventually."
He nods once.
"I know."
"That was my….." I stop. My voice cracks. "That was my trauma to deal with."
"And he was still breathing."
The way he says it makes my skin prickle.
