Remorse

I force myself to unlock the door and once it swings open, I spend no time watching the look of bafflement on his face. I brush right past him and sit myself down onto the bed, my eyes are glued to the rain racing down the panes.

He walks over to where I'm sitting, steadily, and stands over me. Studying me. Inspecting the dried patches on my face and the blood on my knuckles from picking at my skin.
I can't bare to watch.

Finally, I glance up at him and our eyes are locked within each other's. His head tilts to the side and the paleness of his eyes continue examining me.

"What are you doing to yourself?"
Are the next words that have no hesitation flying out of his mouth.
It makes me so angry that he assumes I've been the one behind this.

"You did this to me."
I had meant to sound strong and convincing, but it had turned only into a timid whisper.