...and rip his damned head off. All subsequent thoughts revolved around the nearly debilitating pain from his lacerated ribcage. Ichigo cracked his eyes open against the bright sunshine and looked down as his hands gingerly assessed the damage to his flesh. He was an unusually fast healer, so he knew that the wounds had to be pretty severe to still be hurting this bad...Fuck that, he thought, they didn't hurt this bad when she did it!
He looked at her beautiful body lying next to his in the bed and wondered how such an angelic-looking creature could be hiding such a vicious streak. When he confessed to her last night, he was so hopeful. When she said that he belonged to her...Ichigo thought for sure that she must care for him. Last night certainly disabused him of that ridiculous notion.
The pain in his body actually couldn't compare with the desolation that suddenly swept over him as he replayed last night in his mind. It's not that he was angry at her for what she did; in fact, he was glad she had punished him. The guilt had been eating him alive but he couldn't bring himself to tell her. He thought he deserved everything she gave him and more. The problem was, he had offered her his heart and she ripped it to shreds. She called him a whore...twice. It just hurt to know that he was no more than a fuck toy t...