Jack struggled to open his eyes, and after several attempts, he finally awoke with a pounding headache. As he shifted, he realized he wasn't in his bed. The scent of lavender surrounded him, offering an unexpected comfort.

The events of the previous night came crashing back, overwhelming him. He groaned in frustration. What was he going to do? He felt torn in two. Could it be possible to love someone after everything he'd been through?

A sharp jolt from his back reminded him of the scars there. The memories of bullying, pain, and suffering surged within him, fueling his desire for vengeance.

Jack had resolved: no one would be forgiven easily for what they had done. He was determined to make them all suffer.

With steely resolve and his hangover forgotten, he made his way downstairs. Emily was in the kitchen, making pancakes that smelled tantalizing. He mentally chided himself for being distracted by something so trivial.

He picked up a kitchen knife from the counter and approached her cautiously. This was it. He was ready to act, despite the feelings threatening to hold him back.

Suddenly, Emily turned around, her eyes widening in shock and fear at the sight of the knife in his hand.

Jack was momentarily frozen. She looked breathtakingly beautiful.

"W... what are you doing, Jack?" she stammered.

Normally, he would have reveled in the fear he inspired. But seeing her tremble, hearing the fear in her voice, made him question everything. He couldn't do it. Not anymore. He let the knife slip from his grasp and cried out, "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?"

Tears streamed down his face, raw and uncontrollable. Emily remained silent, her eyes filling with tears that she couldn't seem to hold back.

"I want to cut off those beautiful locks of yours," he said, his voice breaking. "But how can I when they're the only thing I want to touch? I want to burn those delicate hands, but how can I when they're the only ones that make me feel alive? I want to silence your voice, but it's the only thing that keeps me sane. I want to make you cry..."

He gently brushed a tear from her cheek and whispered, "But how can I when that's the only thing that would destroy me inside? When you look at me, Emily, I feel normal. I feel like I don't have to be a monster. When you touch me, it's like I'm on a high, and when you kiss me..."

He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his emotions. "It's like I'm in heaven. I haven't felt this way in years, Emily. You make me feel... I don't even know how to describe it. I don't want it to stop. I like it—no, I love it."

He sank to his knees and wrapped his arms around her, resting his head against her stomach, whispering softly, "What have you done to me?"