Lily

Eu sou Jack, um nome que já pertenceu a um homem livre, mas agora é apenas um rótulo para sua posse. Sou filho de sua ex-empregada, um garoto cuja vida você destruiu e depois reivindicou para si, comprando-me com o mesmo ouro que simboliza a submissão forçada de minha mãe. Sou seu marido relutante, vinculado a um contrato de crueldade, não de amor. Não espere gentileza, não espere carinho. Você me queria; bem, aqui estou. Mas cada respiração que eu respirar, cada olhar que eu lançar, irá lembrá-lo do sofrimento que você infligiu.

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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