Very strong content, but I feel detatched from the characters. Maybe be more poetic?
And remember this- when people tell you what's wrong with you're writing, they are almost always right.
When people tell you exactly how to fix it, they are almost always wrong.
He looked up at her, a stain on his face, chains on his wrists. His eyes said 'I love you' his hands echoed hate. One possessed him, his fist held his heart, and the boy could not fight. No more than he could deny his own blood.
He reached for her, knife in his fist, tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry." He whispered. So wretchedly sorry. If only it were her and not he doing the deed. His own worst enemy. His own defeat.
A scream went up. Skin was cut, and a heart was torn.