He touched my face.

"Love," he muttered into my ear, holding me close. I pushed at his chest, an obvious gesture to move him away from me.

"Don't touch me," I growled, seeing as he obviously hadn't gotten the hint.

"Baby, be reasonable," he coerced. Every touch was a blow to my fragile state of mind. The last thing I needed was him trying to win his way back into my life. He couldn't make up his mind about anything, including whether or not he wanted me, and letting myself love him was a mistake. It only caused me pain in the end. As much as his shattered heart longed for love, he was still only made out of stone. A boy caught in the raptures of Medusa, and even if I told him I didn't want him near me, it really wouldn't hurt him.

I was never someone he loved. I was something he loved. I was his favourite baby blanket. That's not love; that's possessive comfort. I am just the teddy bear that could kiss him back. I was the trophy girl. A mindset of, see I can get girls too, other people want her, and so I can take her for granted.

"I loved you once," I said to him, "but I don't anymore."

And I did, there was a time and a place, and it could have been just right, if only he wasn't so self absorbed. If only I wasn't so naïve. You can love anyone, when you've never loved anything. I had him, he said he was mine. And then he said he didn't want anyone. He did want someone though. He wanted Medusa's seductive love, unmovingly enthralled while she killed him slowly.

A gorgon's glance lasts lifetimes. If you are lucky enough to regain the use of your body, your heart is still shrouded in stone. He could try to escape, try to become flesh and blood again, surround himself with warmth and soft and love, but he was ruined to the world. And now, he sleeps in his cave, becoming what he escaped; he trusts no one now, any woman might be Medusa or her sisters in disguise, coming to steal what's left of his fragile humanity. Little does he know, he's well on his way to becoming what he most fears.