My life is fucked up

Molly:

I had just finished a bath and was on my way down to breakfast when I heard muffled groans coming from Farrell’s room. This time, he did not sound like he was jerking off—he was in pain.

My heart pounded faster as the groaning continued. I grabbed the doorknob and turned it with trembling hands. When I opened the door, I saw Farrell kneeling on the floor, covered in blood and tiny glass shards. I saw him pull the glass from his fist and then growl in pain.

“Farrell!” I screamed with tears in my eyes as I rushed up to him.

“Molly, stay away!” He growled, but I didn’t care.

I kept walking towards him as his brow furrowed. This man was crazy. How could he bleed profusely and expect me to stand there with my arms folded?

“I’m warning you, Molly!” He bawled, but I kept going.

I came to a halt in front of him, staring at his bloodied body and knuckle.

“Why do you keep doing this to me?” I asked, my eyes welling up with tears.

I felt bad seeing him hurt himself. It pierced my heart in