"I don't need you to parent me." "Clearly you do," I snap, regretting the words as soon as they leave my mouth. The regret intensifies when her shoulders slump instead of fighting back. "This is why I don't open up to people," she mumbles, staring at her small feet. Fuck, do I know how that feels, and I hate that I’m the one responsible for giving her the feeling that I loathe so much. In a hundred years, I don't think I’ve properly talked to anyone about anything remotely personal.
