“You’re mad at me.” More silence. “You blame me.” She didn’t respond, choosing to cover her ears with her hands instead. “Admit it,” I demanded, feeling helpless and frustrated as my chest heaved. “Whatever you need to say to me, just fucking admit it, Molloy.” “Fine, Joey, fine! You want to know how I’m feeling? I’m hurt!” she screamed, scrambling onto her knees and throwing her pillow at me. “Because I was nearly raped tonight—by a man that looks just like you! And I was put in that position because of you! Because you didn’t care enough to pick up the phone and tell me what was happening.
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