Blind Spot by Sakshi C (the reader ebook TXT) 📕

Despite everything he did, a silly part of her was still enamored with him. It still craved for him. It was her unfounded feelings that had made her tell him what she had never dared to repeat even to herself. And it had felt so good. How relieved she had felt when she didn't see contempt in his eyes for her after she was done telling him the story.

But yesterday. He broke her completely. She had been humiliated countless times but the last night had left an incurable scar. Maybe it was because the one who gave that scar was him. 

"I said give it to me," he held the glass tightly. So tightly that it soon crashed into pieces, piercing their palms. The pain was quick to sweep across her features as the red liquid mixed their blood spilled from between their fingers. 

"Damn it," he cursed and kneeled in front of her as he forcefully made her uncurl her fingers from around the glass. She couldn't fight.  

The glass dropped to the floor with a shattering sound. He straightened her palm. She winced in pain. 

"It will hurt," he glanced up at her to gauge her reaction. Her eyes were squeezed shut. 

He looked down and started gently pulling the shards from her palm, ignoring his own wounded hand. 

"Silly woman," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head as he pulled a long piece out. She winced again. He looked up at her. Tears were glistening in her eyes as she stared down at him. Something akin to guilt stabbed his guts. He turned his gaze back to her hand. 

"Does it hurt a lot?" he asked as he carefully pulled the last shard. 

She surprised him by grabbing his hand. He looked up at her, clueless as she brought his unwounded hand towards her chest. A tear leaped down her eyes as she held up her blood-coated hand and shook her head. She pressed his hand against her heart and nodded. More tears trailed down her eyes. He released a deep breath, realizing what she was saying. Her hand wasn't hurting, it was her heart that was hurting. 

"Doll," she put his hand with his palm up on her lap and started trailing her index finger over it. He watched her finger dancing on his palm with confusion. It took him a moment to realize she was writing something. 

"You said you will be my protector then why are you hurting me so much?" his chest rose a bit as he drew in an uncomfortable breath. He couldn't help but spy a glance at her. Her focus was on his palm but tears continued to slide down her cheeks. His chest constricted painfully. 

"I haven't killed your brother. He was my best friend too. He was the only person who had accepted me as who I am. He was the only person who didn't hate me. He was the only person who made me feel like a human. He was the only person who didn't backstab me. How could I kill him?" a sob escaped her but she didn't stop. It seemed she was on some mission. His palm was now wet with her tears.    

"I am a human too. I can't speak but it doesn't mean I can't feel also. You said you would protect me but you are the one who drive me to the point of suicide. I was born mute, I lost my mother, my family, my best friend, my freedom, and yesterday you took my pride too," she was a sobbing mess now.

"You treated me like trash. Yesterday, you made me crawl like a whore. You made me feel like a slut," she looked up at him at this point. Her eyes held pain and vulnerability. 

"No one had ever made me feel like a slut. You did. You knew how much I hated it, then why?" he didn't need to follow her trembling finger to understand what she was saying. The question was evident in her eyes. 

Still staring into his eyes, she continued to move her finger, "When you said you will protect me, I trusted you," he felt something heavy like a boulder crushing his heart. 

She dropped his hand and started moving her hands, " I am afraid of intimacy but I let you get close to me. I liked you being close to me, you know why? Because I trusted you. Because I thought you will not betray me. You will not backstab me like others," her confession had stripped him off of his voice. Guilt twisted in his guts like a sharp knife.

She grabbed his collar with both her hands, ignoring the pain it brought. She tugged at his collar, pulling him closer.  

She jerked her face up and asked "why." They were so close. For the first time, he felt intimidated by her. He gulped hard. He had no answer. 

The woman he had claimed to love was crying, weeping because of him. What could have he said.  

His hand of his own accord lifted to wipe her tears. She didn't resist him as he swept his thumb across her flushed cheeks. 

He wiped her tears but the blood that was oozing from his cut smeared on her cheeks. 

His gaze held no malice, no spite. They mirrored his pain.  

They held their meaningful eye contact for a few moments before Danzel finally broke it. He pushed to his feet. She also looked away, wiping her unshed tears. She closed her eyes and hung her head, hearing his footsteps growing distant. After a few moments, he returned with a first-aid box. 

He kneeled in front of her in striking resemblance to the last night when she had kneeled in front of him. 

She opened her eyes when she felt someone's hand on hers. He took her hand and cleaned her wound. Heavy silence ruled them as he quietly tended to her cuts. Once he had gauged her cuts, he let go of her hand and took to his feet. He was calm and composed, like always. Inessa watched him with suspicion as he simply turned and walked out of the room without looking her way for once. The scarlet blood continued to drip down his unattended cuts, dotting the white marble behind him. 

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