"no."

friedrich would not allow it. his creation, his life, his soul, his sole reason. his family was something that is pure and honest, that is beautiful, that he's proud of is gone. his house is a ruin, a cemetery. thomas' worry has ended but what that've done to his girls?

ripped. murdered. taken. he has nothing. nothing to stay for. nothing. nothing but desire to put an end on your revolting, nauseating, existence alive with the blood of the very thing who had reaped his life and soul running through your rotten veins.

he grabbed your face, forced you to look at him in the eye. "no..." he whispered under his shaky breath. his callous thumbs stroked your cheeks gently, his chest heaved up and down. his entire being coiled and taut with tension as he leaned down, bracing himself against the wall above your head.

his nails dug into your skin intended to leave marks and cupped the back of your skull, his fingers fisting in tight onto your locks. his face mere inches away from yours, his jaw clenched tight. his eyes gleamed. his blood curdled. face flushed pale. "i am not god, i do not forgive. never."