Yet, here she was. Cool as a cucumber. Standing by his side, unrepentant. Her train of emotions from earlier, inside the cauldron did not match her actions at all. She was the bleeding heart prototype. The romantic little girl driven by her obsession over the big bad evil man. Every glimpse inside her mind confirmed her infatuation, her devotion. This witch had gone to great lengths to see him restored like a God. So, why wasn’t she laying before him with her forehead pressed to the ground? But most importantly, why wasn’t he ripping her heart out of her chest with his mint flawless hands, bleeding her out into submission? 