What the #?*!

He watched her regard his extended hand for a long moment, but he didn’t move. His eyes flickered from her to his hand and back again. There was a brief second where he wondered why he hand wasn’t shaking. Perhaps, he wasn’t actually looking at his hand. Perhaps, he wasn’t actually himself. He didn’t feel like himself. It was a strange separation between his mind and his body, and he hated the lack of control he was experiencing.       The feeling of her hand sliding into his brought his mind back, but it still wasn’t okay, it wasn’t him. He started questioning if he would be himself again, started questioning if he wanted himself back.       ’Stop being sorry.’ He flickered a forced half-smile to her, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared, accompanied by a nod – a silent lie. He would never stop being sorry, never stop hating himself for not being strong enough to keep her safe, to keep that fucking creature away from her. He had tried, fucking fought, tried, failed. It only took one failure.       Ashetta thanked him, and he felt himself crack. He didn’t want her thanks, didn’t want gratitude for what he believed to be a failure. Yes, he had prevented Master from going to her sooner, but in the long run, did it even matter? He still got his way. He was still able to use her for his twisted appetites. She shouldn’t have been thanking him, she should’ve been scorning him for not doing better by her.       Seeing the way she was standing – or rather, attempting to stand – told him she wasn’t going to remain upright for very long. He didn’t let go of her hand, instead gently pulling it towards him, encouraging her to sit on him, at least for a moment so she didn’t fall over. ”Come on,” he whispered. ”He’s dead.” Master. Master was dead. Ashe had made sure of that. ”We’re going forward, ‘kay? He’s not a threat anymore.”       The words weren’t only for her, however. Seeing that mask, knowing that it was her ex-husband wearing it… Kalt was reminding himself as much as he was reminding her that they were okay. They were safe. Before then, he hadn’t realized just how deep his own scars ran. Kalt I  am flesh and I am bone, i rise up, ting ting, like glitter and gold i've got fire in my soul