She hates him with every fiber of her being. In this moment, this is true. She will gladly grab his throat and make him choke on his last breath. She can do it. She knows she can. And she fights. She would spit at him that he’s a failure. She’d tear at him from the inside out. After all these years, she must have picked up on something.
She hates the look on his face. She hates that she’s no more than a child in his eyes. A brilliant mind to mold. But this is her mind. Not his. She curses him. Screams at the top of her lungs. She’s as defiant as ever and she wants to make him aware of how far he has fallen.
There’s a blackness that follows.
She remembers nothing.
In the pit of her stomach, she’s disgusted, but she goes along willingly and desperately craves his touch.