Creative Writing: The Cold War

A few days ago, I would have thought that Cal was the enemy, that he would destroy the revolution I started. Instead, the rightful king is handcuffed, broken, with his hands full of blood. For the first time in two hours, he looks at me, the girl who stole everything from him.
“Cal, can I please explain myself?” I ask being afraid of what his answer would be, I kneel in front of him. After all, I am the one who he blames the most.
He is bailing his fists “I wish I had never met you”, indeed he spits the words as if those were a strong poison going through his throat.
“Cal, please let me explain myself” I try to get a hold of him, but he feels so far away. Probably, because he is not the boy I knew anymore.
He stands up, his hands are still

But your reminiscence of love will not keep me from bringing you down”
“You are lying, you are just seeking for my fear.” I try to say while I see how Cal walks to the door.
Cal slams the door and melts down the doorknob “I am not” he walks towards me, when he is close enough he touches my lips “Why would I lie to the girl who stole my happiness?”
“You still love me” I replied as I see the change of his attitude.
“I don’t” his fingers trails the path from my lips to my neck “See? I am not even attracted to the idea of kissing you, my only desire is hurt you” he grabs my hand and turns it down making me go to my knees. “That is my favourite look of you, begging”
I scream the pain is so hard to handle “Please, stop” I cried out, hence he lets go my hand.
“For better or for worse, we are going to be stuck together until I have fulfilled my desire” he starts burning the place while I try to stand up.
“Welcome to hell, love” his smile is a grin, he carries me to take me out of the room. “This is how our love story starts”
I close my eyes “I have ruined you”
“Indeed, you have” he bragged while we listen how the room exploits behind