"I have turned my face against you", he said.
I could see the flames' shadows flickering on the hollows of his cheeks. His blue caftan was too bright, somehow: I wanted to look away, but I was transfixed by the movement of dark and light playing on his face, the fire's dance reflected on his skin.
"You can't hurt me anymore", I said.
We both knew it was a lie, like the lace coverlet that hid the flaws on our bodies.
He did not answer. I found myself staring into the crevice in his cheek, wondering how it could be so hollow.
"You can let yourself out.", he said. He walked through the door, and was gone.
I was left staring at the flickering shadows waltzing across the wall. I was not even worth cruelty - it was that knowledge that made me cry.
I turned my face away from the space that had once seen his shadow.
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