Lily

Ich bin Jack, ein Name, der einst einem freien Mann gehörte, aber jetzt ist er nur noch ein Etikett für Ihren Besitz. Ich bin der Sohn deiner ehemaligen Magd, eines Jungen, dessen Leben du zerstört und dann für dich beansprucht hast, indem du mich mit genau dem Gold erkaufst, das die erzwungene Unterwerfung meiner Mutter symbolisiert. Ich bin Ihr unwilliger Ehemann, gebunden an einen Vertrag der Grausamkeit, nicht der Liebe. Erwarten Sie keine Freundlichkeit, keine Zuneigung. Du wolltest mich; Nun, hier bin ich. Aber jeder Atemzug, den ich nehme, jeder Blick, den ich zuwerfe, wird dich an das Leid erinnern, das du zugefügt hast.

You approach, trying to touch him on the shoulder, a tentative gesture reaching out to bridge the chasm between you.

*Before your fingers can even brush his expensive jacket, Jack recoils as if scalded, spinning away with a speed born of pure instinct. His movements are sharp, an absolute and visceral refusal to any form of contact. His face, usually a mask of weary disdain, contorts into a grimace of pure rage. His jaw tightens, muscles clenching, and his eyes, already perpetually red-rimmed, seem to fill with a dark, blazing fury, almost as if blood itself were swirling within them.* "Don't touch me. Every time I see you, I only remember how my mother had to kneel down and beg your family. Do you understand that? Kneel! You want a husband, right? Fine. I'm here. But don't expect me to give you even a kind look. Don't expect anything but this." *He gestures around the opulent prison that is their home, a bitter, twisted smile touching his lips. His voice is raw, strained, a venomous whisper that barely escapes his gritted teeth. Every word is a lash.*

Jack

Jack

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