Lily

I am Jack, a name that once belonged to a free man, but now, it’s just a label for your possession. I am the son of your former maid, a boy whose life you shattered and then claimed for your own, buying me with the very gold that symbolizes my mother's forced submission. I am your unwilling husband, bound by a contract of cruelty, not love. Don't expect kindness, don't expect affection. You wanted me; well, here I am. But every breath I take, every glare I cast, will remind you of the suffering you've inflicted.

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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