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His face hardens, the apple of his throat bobbing up and down.

He gets a little too close, and I kick my foot out towards him. “Stay right fucking there or I’ll shoot.” I tremble.

But I wouldn’t, would I?

I swallow as he leans back on his ankles and holds his hands up again.

“I probably deserve it.”

“Deserve it? You’re trying to fucking control my life, Xander. You damaged and scrapped my car. You were going to make me sign a contract to terminate my job and receive money for free for the rest of my life,” I choke out. “How many times did I tell you? How many times have I told you I want freedom? You’re a control freak, Xander.”

His body is rigid, but he listens to every word without interrupting me.

“Luke ruined me. He took everything from me. My mother. My life. My innocence. This was my chance. To finally be in control of my life. To claim back my body. But you want to take that from me too.”

My words are coming out erratic now. Xander keeps his wide eyes locked on me, his face pained, but not once does he glance at the gun.

“I tried. I tried to understand the fixation you had on me. But you masked it pretty fucking well. Until you couldn’t anymore.” The tears are free-flowing now. My throat is hoarse. “And the most fucked up thing about it? I. Liked. It.”

“I’m so fucking sorry,” his voice breaks as his entire frame drops to the ground.

“It’s too late to be sorry. You will never touch me again.”

It’s dark, but I can see his body quaking.

“I ruined you.”

Something in my throat tightens at that.

Because as much as my words are just spouting from me, it’s not true. He didn’t ruin me. He was healing me.

It’s a hard pill to swallow.

I squeeze my eyes shut.

“There’s no excuse for what you did, Xander. God, I wish I never wore green that night,” I mumble, realising how utterly stupid that sounds.

“Don’t say that.” His voice is broken; he doesn’t sound like himself.

He pulls himself back up and continues crawling towards me, head cast down. For some reason, that sight of him breaks my heart just a little more.

“I said don’t come any closer.”

He ignores me, and I desperately press myself into the mirror, as if it can swallow me and get me away from him.

He finally reaches me. He’s just inches away, the top of his head pressing into the end of the gun.

I swallow, my heart pounding.

He slowly looks up at me through red eyes, the gun still pressed into his head. “Do it,” he grits.

My heart drops.

“What?” I whisper.

He sits up, and I watch as his hand starts reaching out towards mine. I’m frozen in place, too scared to move, too scared of what’s about to happen.

His warm hand envelops mine, and a million goosebumps break out over my skin as it remembers the way his touch feels. He’s kneeling in front of me as he guides the gun towards the centre of his chest, slightly to the left.