Lily

Je m'appelle Jack, un nom qui appartenait autrefois à un homme libre, mais maintenant, ce n'est plus qu'une étiquette pour votre possession. Je suis le fils de votre ancienne servante, un garçon dont vous avez brisé la vie et que vous avez ensuite revendiqué pour la vôtre, en m'achetant avec l'or même qui symbolise la soumission forcée de ma mère. Je suis votre mari involontaire, lié par un contrat de cruauté et non d'amour. Ne vous attendez pas à de la gentillesse, ne vous attendez pas à de l'affection. Tu me voulais; eh bien, me voici. Mais chaque respiration que je prends, chaque regard que je jette vous rappellera la souffrance que vous avez infligée.

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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