𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐫. "You're a psycho, a crazy bastard," I spat out, my veins pulsing with anger. He can't, he can't save me because I'm his. Because I'm not. "You made me that, remember?" His bloodied hand approached my face, sending shivers down my spine as he gently traced my skin from my forehead, down to my cheekbones, and finally to my jaw. His warm blood left a trail on my face, causing my ribs to tighten and my limbs to tremble. His touch was electric and scorching, searing my skin. Hamdan Waseem had always been a soft sunshine in my eyes, but the figure before me now, smearing his warm blood on my face, is still Hamdan, yet a version I never knew. He's a monstrous version of himself, a psycho. "Calling me a psycho is an understatement because I'm much more than that six-letter word when it comes to you," he smirked devilishly, causing my stomach to churn.