"How did it turn out like this?" I said while clinging very tight on the knife I'm holding.
Instead of uttering an explanation, he grinned and open his arms like he is waiting for a hug.
I remember the day we've decided to live in the same place. He was the man I've been dreaming for. He gave me things I never thought I can have and displayed affection I did not asked. He treat me like his princess and cared for me as if I'm the only one that matters to him. But now, why? I can't believe that the man in front of me is the same man I described.
"Common, hug me now." He said while still grinning insanely.
"N-no. Please stop it." I said, begging for him to return to his normal self.
His grin turns into a mocking laugh. His stare is enough to let my whole body shake in fear. I looked at his hand and he is still holding the head of the man who hurt me, who abuse me, who make fun of my weakness.
"Why? I just gave them the punishment they deserve? I protect you!" He shouted back at me.
"But I didn't asked for you to be murderer! A killer. You're scaring me!"
I replied back, with the words I never imagine I would tell him, with the feelings I never wanted to feel for him. My hands that is gripping the knife is slowly losing its hold. The pain of what I've gone through is still hanging on my body, the way their hands explore it, the way they leave a mark and did not hesitate to punch it, it is killing me. My head is spinning and my heart is racing the way it never raced before.
If he did not came to my rescue, maybe now I am still lying in our sofa, as they successfully taken what I want him to take away from me. Maybe I already lose my mind and wishing I could just die. But I am still here, here with him, here with the one who protect me, here with the one who killed those bastards.
Why am I scared? Because he killed them.
Isn't it what they deserved? Yes, but seeing them getting killed by him is just too much.
If I leave him because he protect me, isn't that what's too much? Leaving questions after questions, answers after answers, I let go of the knife I'm holding. I walk to him, slowly with the guilt of what I've inflicted him, and hugged him tightly as I can.
"Sorry. Sorry." I whispered to him, repeatedly. Even if my voice is almost gone.
I'm still asking for an apology when he grab my cheeks, and stares deeply on my eyes. The blood on his hands is already dry and the creepy smile he's making earlier already turn into a crying one.
"I'm the one who should apologize. I scare you. I'm sorry. Don't cry, okay? I won't hurt you. I will always protect you." He said, comforting and wiping the tears from my eyes.
It's already 2 years since that thing happened. Here, on this kitchen place of our home. Me, lying and hugging him very tightly. I barely remember how I fell asleep on his arms that night. But the memories of me waking up while him gone and nowhere to be found is engraved on my mind. The tightness I felt on my heart when the news arrived that he surrendered to the police and the heaviness of it seeing him with that orange t-shirt that didn't suit him.
Long years will pass, we'll age and we'll change. Though distance is a barrier on us now, the closeness of us won't disappear. Waiting him is not a question to be asked, it is my statement. I will wait for him.
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