We stood there, facing each other. I could count the freckles on her face. Her eyes held a hint of hatred, but her lips were upturned. I was sure my expression was similar, if not exactly the same, and to my great surprise, I didn't mind. I smiled unabashedly at the girl who had ruined my life and I didn't mind. Worse, I wasn't even drunk. I should want to kill her. Torture her. But I didn't. At least not now. Tears glistened in her eyes and, to my own horror, all I wanted to do was hug her. But if I did, I'd lose my position. And my respect. Normally I would care, but the last few months had been far from normal. And so, ignoring the inescapable feeling of embarrassment, I wrapped my bloody arms around her and pulled her close.