She loves the feel of his warm arms around hers. She loves his breath on her skin, and his fingers as they lightly run through her hair. She loves his voice, how he coos to her in words she can't understand. But it's wrong.
He loves the way she trembles when he touches her. He loves it when she speaks softly to him in the middle of the night. He loves how soft she is, how nice she smells right after he gives her a bath. But it's wrong.
She should hate him, because he hurt her. He did awful things to her in the name of science, and then kept her prisoner after he was done. But she doesn't.
He should hate her, the doe eyed victim with the razor edged tongue. He should have killed her long ago. But he can't hate her, and he certainly can't kill her.
It was wrong.
But somehow, despite everything, it felt right.