My body was covered in layers of clothing—tights under my jeans, a fuzzy sweater under my coat, gloves—but my face was exposed, and the gravel scratched its way across my chin, my cheeks, my nose, as I rolled to the side of the road. My face! My beautiful face! Nathaniel stopped the car and ran over. “What the fuck!” he yelled. “What the fuck!” “I’m okay,” I said, standing up quickly to prove just how okay I was. I was dizzy. “Just take me home.” “The fuck, Catalina, there’s blood all over your face. I should take you to the hospital.”
