Bleed Myself Dry

"Hit me," I whisper, staring up at him, as he towered over me, my back pressed to the wall.

His face falls from one of anger to one of confusion, his brows furrowing, and he looks down, ripping his stupid, show-stopping blue eyes away from my own.

God, even when I'm mad at him, I love him.

He looks at me, taking a step back, in complete and utter shock at my words, "What?"

"Hit me, do it, don't act as you care for me," I spit out, pursing my lips together to keep myself from sobbing.

He looks at me, and I stare back, the silence fills the room and he runs his hand through his hair, turning away from me.

"I'm not gonna hit you, you idiot, I love you" He snaps after a few painful minutes of silence, gently cupping my face into his hands, lowering his tone, "Despite everything, I still love you,"

I find myself leaning into his touch, even though I don't want to, "You love me, but I'm one you've turned on, repeatedly,"

"I'd chose my sister over you, any of you," He says, softly. But for some reason, when he says it, I want to accept it, but I don't deserve to be a second choice.

"Just me,"

He quickly pulls his touch away from me, and only then, can I think straight. I'm upset that I fell for it, again, his stupid love spell.

"Stop! Stop with the bullsh*t about being unloved, you are a part of me. If you don't agree with my motive, I don't care! I never said I was perfect," He shouts at me, throwing a vase off the table, "But I need you,"