Sabrina hasn't planned for this; her Charlie stays so collected, especially in the face of all the horrible things she's presented to him, and this-- this she isn't ready for, not at all.
"Stop," she begs, "STOP, don't do that!"
But it's hurting him and she made it, and she can feel it hurting him and smell it hurting him and she has. She's hurt him anyway, and even if she's only going to keep doing it, she thinks she'd rather risk the end of the world if she can keep him from this, from that way he says her name and pleads.
"Charlie," she chokes out. She doesn't even feel it when she takes the knife up and cuts herself to smear blood through the lines, breaking them. She staggers out and goes to him, weeping, reaching for him. "Charlie, no, I'm sorry, don't, I'm sorry."
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"Stop," she begs, "STOP, don't do that!"
But it's hurting him and she made it, and she can feel it hurting him and smell it hurting him and she has. She's hurt him anyway, and even if she's only going to keep doing it, she thinks she'd rather risk the end of the world if she can keep him from this, from that way he says her name and pleads.
"Charlie," she chokes out. She doesn't even feel it when she takes the knife up and cuts herself to smear blood through the lines, breaking them. She staggers out and goes to him, weeping, reaching for him. "Charlie, no, I'm sorry, don't, I'm sorry."