The door creaked open but I didn't budge as Ash entered the room, carrying a mug in his hand. He set it down on the bedside table then hesitantly, sat down next to me on the bed. "Natalie..."
"Ash, don't start," I whispered, closing my eyes and trying to avoid the pain that would inevitably follow, not mine but his.
He stiffened by my side and I didn't have to look at him to know that he was suppressing words of anger and frustration, but when I did, I was met by a tight expression on his face, hands balled up into fists by his side.
He met my gaze, his ocean-like depths searching my own green ones for an answer that I wouldn't give. Groaning, he stood up, running his hand through his hair as the other shook by his side.
"Why would you do something like that?" His voice teetered on the verge of a pain that I couldn't describe but wholly felt when he turned to look at me. If not anger, I saw a sadness in his eyes as they glassed up, flickering down to the several cuts on my hands.
Taking a step closer, he shook me firmly, voice increasing in volume, "Why?"
I looked away from him, fixing a blank gaze on the mug of milk on the counter. Then, I braced myself for his complete reaction.