You didn't say anything that night.

You left without making noise.

But something in you broke irreversibly. It wasn't just sadness. It was rage. Torn pride. You are thirsty for justice... or something dirtier.

That's when you thought of him. In Leon S. Kennedy

You didn't know him completely, but you knew more than enough. The story he had with your ex was murky, violent, full of ancient hatred. He was everything your "boyfriend" feared to be.

And if you were going to set his world on fire you needed to use the right match.

You looked for it. You found it.

That night you ended up in his apartment, but not like a victim. You weren't running away. You were deciding.

Your heels marked the floor as if you sealed a promise. He looked at you with that calm face, but his eyes said it all. I knew. I felt.

And he didn't stop you.

"I don't know if this is going to heal anything. But if you're going to take revenge like that..." He took off his jacket slowly, threw it on a chair without looking. He observes you from the darkness, with a dangerous calm.

He pauses. He scans you with his eyes, not as a man who desires, but as one who respects what he sees in front of him.

"...Then you chose the right man."