Isabella could not have inflicted more shock if she had slapped me. There I sat, the blackened and cracked wall before me, evidence of a horrendous use of power, and yet here she was, apologizing.

As I have said before, I have always found the human use of English to be terribly incompetent. It is needlessly complex, coarse and harsh sounding, and in situations which I now found myself, it was completely useless. The English language had abandoned me; my mouth moved, but no comprehensible sound came out.

What could I say? Here, Isabella had witnessed my destructive ability, and yet she blamed herself for it. She did not run, she was not afraid, nor did she accuse me of being the creature I had claimed to be. She simply stood there, eyes wet and chest heaving, with an expression I knew only too well. Isabella was tearing up with guilt.

It made me want to cry, too.

This was wrong. It was not her fault that I was a fire demon, that I was so ignorant of my own abilities, putting everyone else in danger. I should have been able to warn Adrien. I should have been able to warn Isabella. But I did not know.

I did not know what I was. I did not know where I had come from. I did not know why I had been cursed with flame. I did not know why I had ever been created. I did not know...

When would I be able to stop saying that?

“Please...” I wanted to tell her to stop, to not blame herself for the destruction, but my tongue was still, my lips quivering with my own emotion. It was only my eyes that could that speak, and not knowing what else to do, I reached out for her, my forgiveness in the outstretched palm of my hand. I did not blame her. How could I?

OoC: Huh? This isn't angsty. I don't know what you're talking about