'I have done no such thing. I never told you to renounce your God.'
His jaw sets, and Javert's rage sizzles against his skin like a branding iron.
'I offered you my heart, on a silver platter. And you would rather drive a knife through it than admit that for a moment, for one singular, perfect moment, you lost yourself in pleasure. A pleasure so rich, so bone deep, you will spend the rest of your life trying to recapture it.'
'You would rather cloak yourself in righteous rage and misery than for one moment admit that it might be easier to be weak than to be strong.'
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His jaw sets, and Javert's rage sizzles against his skin like a branding iron.
'I offered you my heart, on a silver platter. And you would rather drive a knife through it than admit that for a moment, for one singular, perfect moment, you lost yourself in pleasure. A pleasure so rich, so bone deep, you will spend the rest of your life trying to recapture it.'
'You would rather cloak yourself in righteous rage and misery than for one moment admit that it might be easier to be weak than to be strong.'