by neko

The door slams shut and the cheap partition between this room and the next shudders from the force of the impact. Blasphemy stalks across the short distance from the doorway to the bed. He sits.

Perhaps he is overreacting, but he feels those warm brown eyes set in that innocent face mock him, a deliberate cruelty. At least Malevolence has the decency not to hide his intentions.

A gift, they had said, just a spur-of-the-moment thing. Blasphemy knows all too well that gifts do not exist. The world is a selfish place and every supposed kindness is done with the expectation of payback, always with strings attached. Even this drop of coloured glass has been given to him for some reason.

Its green-gold shine winks at him, tugging at the long-buried image of familiar eyes glittering with pain and betrayal. He had never apologized even as she left him. He knows that there is no such thing as justice and that friendship is merely a game to pass the time.

He throws the glass stone across the room with such force that it dents the drywall.